“But then they danced down the streets like dingledodies, and I shambled after as I’ve been doing all my life after people who interest me, because the only people for me are the mad ones, the ones who are mad to live, mad to talk, mad to be saved, desirous of everything at the same time, the ones who never yawn or say a commonplace thing, but burn, burn, burn like fabulous yellow roman candles exploding like spiders across the stars and in the middle you see the blue centerlight pop and everybody goes “Awww”.
—- On the road v Jack Kerouac
What I was actually doing
My job in Mexico consisted of interviewing transgender sex workers (the nicer was of saying prostitute) about the role of religion in their lives and their ties to San Francisco. There is a group of sex workers in Guadalajara who work in a cooperative renting out three houses in a poor part of town. There are transvestites, gay men who dress as women at night when they work as prostitutes. There are men who are in the process of transforming themselves into women by taking hormones or injecting themselves with motor oil to get those curves on their bodies. It’s actually VERY VERY dangerous to inject motor oil into the body, but some do it instead of taking silicone. Hey, I have excess rolls of fat they can have for free if they want to make their bodies rounder J There are others who call themselves transgender or transsexual and they have already had facial surgery, breast implants and other types of plastic surgery to make them look like women. Some of them really do look like women and could easily fool most people.
Before I left, I got a huge box of condoms to give away to the people whom I would interview. Unfortunately, condoms in Mexico are expensive and the AIDS prevention agency in Mexico doesn’t give them away for free like in San Francisco.
There are about 18 of these transgender Mexican sex workers living illegally in San Francisco in the Tenderloin district working in a seedy hell hole of a single residential occupancy hotel. I have interviewed some of the women there about the role of religion in their lives and I am here to see what similarities there are in the two groups. I got in touch with the madam (organizer of the brothels) in Guadalajara and she was really nice about putting me in touch with the girls.
Susan the undercover nun
When I was doing my research about this group back in SF, I found out about the Hermanas Oblatas, a group of nuns, whose order originated in Spain, who specialize in ministry to sex workers. I thought that they would be a great group to research. But, of course they don’t advertise their services on the Internet. I doubt the Vatican would be all that pleased with an order of nuns promoting their work caring for the Mary Magdalenes of the world. (Actually, to be fair to Mary Magdalane, there is no part in the New Testament that says that she was a prostitute. Popular opinion made her into one.) So, I tried contacting other groups in Mexico for the contact information for the Hermanas Oblatas and had a lot of trouble tracking them down because they are very secretive. Kike, one of my coworkers in SF offered to give me his nun outfit that he wore for Halloween so that I could go undercover as a fake nun. In the end, Kike didn’t give me his nun outfit and I went as a lay person. With the Guadalajaran heat, I couldn’t imagine dressing in that long black nun outfit, I would probably have fainted from overheat!!!
When I called the nuns here in Guadalajara the woman who answered the phone hung up on me when I told her about my research project. There goes my chance to become part of their order! When I started working for the University of San Francisco, my dad thought it was a Catholic seminary and kept on teasing me about when I would become the next pope. Hmmm, a Jewish female popeJ Now that would cause some stirs in Vatican City!
I did finally talk to someone at the convent in Guadalajara and she told me that the order in Mexico City does more work with prostitutes and that the Guadalajaran order does some work with female prostitutes. She stressed the female part, so I got the hint that she didn’t really like to talk about my research group. Damn and I wanted to wear a nun costume and go around with them spreading their ministry! One of my friends wrote to me and asked how I was doing as a fake nun. He said that my work sounded like a Steve Martin movie. Sometimes I seriously look at my life and the bizarre circumstances I find myself in and think I am in between an Almodovar and a Fellini screenplay. Except, it ain’t no screenplay on paper, it’s the life I lead.
Why Susan shouldn’t wear a skirt on the steps of a brothel
So it’s 90 plus degrees Farenheit and I can’t dress like a nun, so what else can I dress as? How about the 26 year old woman that I am? Jeans are out of the question and pants are too warm. Dresses and skirts. Short dresses and skirts, the ones above the knees. Yes, the sexy nun. Well, that would be all fine and good if I weren’t doing my research in a whorehouse.
I was supposed to meet the MADAM of the brothel at 2pm one day to take her to lunch. I called her on her mobile phone to tell her I was coming late and she said that I should come even later because she wasn’t there yet but then she said that she would get there as fast as possible. Well, I got there, waited 5-10 minutes and called her again, this time sitting on the step in front of the whorehouse wearing a skirt. You can just imagine the looks I got from the male drivers in the passing cars. One guy passed by in a green pickup truck three times and kept on giving me these looks like “Come on in baby”. The Madam, Patty, told me that she was at the City Hall fixing a legal problem (the police came by and arrested some of the sex workers and closed down one of the three brothels) and could not make it to our lunch. I was upset that she didn’t call me earlier, saving me the trip to her house of pleasures and the embarrassing position of sitting and getting a bunch of looks from the men passing by. I got up and saw that my suitor or want to be client in the green truck was waiting for me at one corner. So, I walked the other way and he drove by and said “Te puedo llevar” (I can take you.) and I waved my hand in a form of a smack and walked away.
I seem to be ok with the nature of my work and the places it takes me, but being mistaken for one of my research subjects is NOT my idea of fun!!!
Almost getting arrested
Having a brothel as my main fieldwork location obviously puts me into a weird position. I bet the taxi drivers around my hotel have spoken to the reception staff and were all wondering why this nice “innocent looking” gringa takes cabs to a shady corner of town and has people with feminine names but male voices calling for her at the hotel.
One Tuesday night, I was waiting for Patty, the Madam and her assistant, Elvira, to come back to the house so that I could talk to them. So, I was sitting in the “living room” (the only normal looking room not used for illegal activity) reading a book by myself. When I got hungry, I moved to the other part of the room, near the garbage can so I could throw away my pistachio nut shells. Now that I was near the garbage can, I could see the sex workers entering and exiting with their clients. It was kind of weird sitting there when the clients could see me. I never had to actually see the sex workers exercising their profession before because I always interviewed them during the day. But in Mexico, I have been at the brothel early in the working night, around 10pm, talking to the prostitutes on the street trying to get them to commit to an interview with me. They are out there trying to get clients and I am there trying to talk to them about religion. How much weirder can it get?
The following night, the police came by and arrested some of the sex workers who were outside. The ones who were inside tried to hide from the police. Good thing that I went to the see the movie Chicago that night with Elvira. I could not imagine what I would have told the police officers if they had tried to arrest me on grounds of prostitution. Kike, where’s my nun outfit when I need it most????
“No officer I am not a prostitute, look at how I am dressed. I am actually from San Francisco interviewing these nice ladies about the role of religion in their lives. See, here is my business card.”
The police would have probably thought that I was strung out on some drug, especially if they looked carefully at my business card “University of San Francisco, Jesuit Education since 1855” and my 666 phone number in San Francisco that makes me look like I am from the devil. Hmm, a Mexican jail is not where I want to be doing my fieldwork. Do you think they would have let me call my boss in the states to ask her to bail me out on grounds of prostitution? I am sure the whole finance department at the Catholic University where I worked would be dying of laughter when they would see the purchase order for “Bailing-bribing Mexican police to let out young research assistant from jail”. Ay, Susan, what mess can you NOT get yourself into?
Don’t do your business in front of my hotel, please!
Two weeks ago, I asked one of my interviewees to come and get me at my hotel downtown and that we would go for a drink nearby. Not a good idea. She came late and when the hotel clerk called me to tell that Gaby arrived, I walked downstairs and he gave me a weird look and motioned with his face where she was sitting. Her exhibitionist style with her very provocative shirt didn’t leave much up to the imagination! We waited on a bench outside of my hotel for someone else who I was going to interview and in the 10-15 minutes that we were waiting outside, two of her former clients came by and asked her about her services. I told her, “Look, Gaby maybe you can get some good business in this part of town. But, please don’t do it while I am living in this hotel, I don’t want to have any problems!” She smiled and agreed that she would come back late in the night after I left Mexico.
Susan’s Blue Dress “Made in Mexican Brothel”
In addition to her superwoman “do-it-all” powers, Elvira (the madam’s assistant) is also a seamstress. We picked out fabrics and styles for 2 pants and a dress. Two nights in a row, I came by the brothel (during their nighttime business hours) to the living room, where Elvira set up her sewing machine to try on the “Patty’s House of Pleasures” fashions. When I thought about getting some clothes made in Mexico for me, I never envisioned that they would be sewn in a brothel! But I also never imagined that I would get entangled into most of the unique circumstances my life is full of!
Both evenings, we stayed up talking about our lives and decisions we were making about our career and personal paths. One night, Elvira was helping me finally understand the meaning of two Silvio Rodriguez (Cuban guitarist and songwriter) songs I had been listening to for years. As we were discussing the greater philosophical messages about love and relationships in the songs, work went on next door and money was exchanged for one’s sexual favor of choice.
To try on the bright blue dress, I had to step onto the couch with my back to the window, so I could see myself in the mirror. I made sure that the voyeur from across the street wasn’t standing in his window getting his kicks from watching the scantily clad prostitutes next door. Instead of the girl looking out the window of a brothel like in the red light district of Amsterdam, there I was with my back to the street trying on my great blue dress!