𝗦𝗮𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗱 𝗣𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘁𝘂𝘁𝗲 𝗖𝗵𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗶𝗰𝗹𝗲𝘀 Part 11:
T𝗵𝗲 𝗗𝗮𝗿𝗸 𝗦𝗶𝗱𝗲 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗦 𝗲𝘅 𝗜𝗻𝗱𝘂𝘀𝘁𝗿𝘆. 𝗠𝘆 𝗢𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗶𝗻 𝗦𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆.
𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 11: 𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐝𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐲
While I was living in the massage studio in San Diego, I found ways to distract myself.
Sometimes distraction came in editing for my YouTube channel, dating, dancing, or s ex work shenanigans.
One day I got a call on my “work” phone from another black woman in her mid-30s seeking to do this work.
She saw my ad on Craigslist and wanted to become friends. Mercedes was the only black woman I worked with within our massage spa.
Diamond was a charismatic, ambitious, and very communicative single mother with twin boys. It sounded like she was struggling to pay rent and feed her two boys. I told Mercedes about her situation, and we decided to meet her.
Diamond seemed to fit right in. She mostly fit in with Mercedes.
Both Mercedes and Diamond had a lot in common: mothers, similar beauty rituals, and loved the luxurious life.
Diamond’s intentions were to create her own motivational business for young female entrepreneurs.
As Diamond started flourishing as a “massage therapist,” her ego got bigger by the day.
She became picky with the 5 Star Restaurants she ate at. Sometimes she would complain to waiters and needed her food to taste just right.
Diamond’s survival needs got replaced by champagne and caviar.
Diamond’s name fit the song “Diamonds are a Girl’s Best Friend” by Marilyn Monroe.
Diamond rarely talked about her struggles once she started attracting more of the right kind of clientele. Sometimes her focus was finding the right sugar daddy.
Diamond was good at spotting old money, mainly older white men with money. She believed these older white men loved the curvy black women.
One day, Diamond came by the office to share how she was shopping at Nordstrom’s and her journey of possibly meeting “The One”.
That was Diamond’s code word with the sugar daddy that would pay her house and car bill.
Diamond mentioned how certain men wore specific watches, clothing or went golfing on Sundays.
She knew her clothing label and brands. She said knowing it was important to know. Both Diamond and Mercedes developed a deeper friendship than I did with her.
I started to feel like the other.
My mindset was different than theirs. My focus was becoming a better dancer, developing my gifts, and building a community in the salsa scene.
I was the only Mexican playing Indian-Bollywood s ex worker, in my understanding.
I didn’t know what it was to be a black woman. I felt lost in my s exuality.
I became disconnected from my body, especially after being touched every day and pretending to like it.
𝘉𝘦𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘦𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘻𝘦𝘥 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘹𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤 𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘨𝘭𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘦.
My identity became distorted between Erikaa and Summer (stage name).
A few weeks later, I got a text from Regina. She was the homie.
Regina used to be one of the first women I befriended when I worked with my first pimp, “The Dude.”
She was looking for work since her modeling job was not paying much. Again she also had goals to make enough money to create her own business.
I started noticing a theme in this industry.
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘴𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢𝘮𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩 𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘴𝘨𝘶𝘪𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘴 𝘭𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘢𝘴𝘵 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘦. 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘳𝘦𝘯𝘵.
Regina was the third black woman to be added to our LUXURIOUS MASSAGE empire.
Mercedes later persuaded the landlord to sell us a bigger suite. Mercedes had the biggest room out of the four and decorated it with a purple and velvety theme.
Diamond got the “Diamond” suite with the French Chic room, huge mirrors, French art, and high-end furniture.
Both Diamond and Mercedes invested more in clothes, furniture, and material things.
That’s when I felt the split between us.
The split in values, goals, and attitude.
Regina, who became Ruby, was very similar to me. She changed her stage name so many times, it was hard to keep up.
She studied and focused on an exit strategy. Ruby spoke very fast. I sometimes wondered if it was her anxiety that was talking.
She had the most minimal-looking office.
There were no fancy lights or backgrounds. Ruby’s focus was saving for school and her retirement. I liked that about Regina or Ruby. Let’s call her Regina for now.
My friendship with Mercedes shifted once Regina came back in the picture.
Mercedes did her best to share her kindness before I traveled to Hawaii.
While I was gone, Mercedes gifted me with a redecorated Summer room. It was baby blue and appeared to look like something from a Home and Gardens magazine.
I honestly didn’t care what my room looked like. The only upside of being a rich-poor girl was that the room had a couch, and I saw the couch as my new bed.
I was desensitized to feeling deserving of a luxurious experience.
After the room renovation of our LUXURIOUS MASSAGE SPA, things energetically shifted between Mercedes, Diamond, and I.
One day I was eavesdropping on a conversation between Mercedes and Diamond. They were in a Mercedes suite.
𝓜𝓮𝓻𝓬𝓮𝓭𝓮𝓼: These guys are so dumb and easy.
𝓓𝓲𝓪𝓶𝓸𝓷𝓭:They eat up everything we say. I can’t believe how easy it is to get more money from them.
𝓜𝓮𝓻𝓬𝓮𝓭𝓮𝓼:I’m going to buy my son’s new car after shopping for my Louis Vuitton bag.
Afterward, I remember Mercedes mentioning how she spent $500 on her friend’s baby shower.
She said how she didn’t get much acknowledgment for her baby shower gift since it was clearly the most expensive gift at the baby shower.
She kept going on and on about how her other friends got her some simple baby clothes and toys. It sounded like Mercedes wanted to win over or buy her friend’s friendship.
While I was a poor-rich girl, my next plan was to save enough money to find a home.
Little did I know that my soul was craving a real mentor. Luckily, the internet created a thing called: Google.
Before my relationship with Mercedes came to an end, I felt the tension like a sharp knife. I thought I was in the movie Mean Girls or Show Girls .
I remember walking down the hallway of the office building seeing Mercedes and Diamond walk past me. They would snicker and laugh while whispering in each other’s ears.
When gossiping occurs in any female friendship, it creates a the feminine to become harder. Her face hardens, her breath becomes shallow, and her words are deeper and tense.
There is a type of hardening when you start to create the story that “you have more guy friends than girls.”
That type of female behavior is what creates the wounded feminine.
I felt like I was in High School all over again.
Depression hit me hard as I felt like I would not be accepted by the popular girls in the sex industry. Why do we still play that game.
We were programmed to live in these avatars due to the Patriarchy.
In the sex industry, I found that being liked involved how much money you make and who you are loyal to.
Mercedes and I had a few conversations leading up to my quitting.
Mercedes didn’t like my attitude or how clients complained about me.
She also mentioned I forgot to close the door some nights, and I was an emotional mess. I was not present. My mind was still grieving the past.
At the time, Mercedes was right. I used Mercedes to be my therapist.
I also had a drinking problem and occasionally made out with clients because I was lonely. I cried myself to sleep in the office because I hated the guilt. I hated lying to my family.
Sometimes my mom called me saying how proud she was. That deeply hurt.
𝘈𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘰𝘯𝘦 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘥𝘪𝘥𝘯’𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘦𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘪𝘵. 𝘓𝘺𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘸𝘩𝘰 𝘐 was 𝘤𝘰𝘴𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘧 𝘧𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘥𝘰𝘮.
The type of freedom where there are no fear-based thoughts, you can feel the deepness of your breath. You have a relentless feeling that you are here for a higher vision than you can even imagine.
At the time I felt like an imposter, and for that, I acted submissive and bullied by Mercedes. I was reliving my experience all over again. With the Nuru massage roomate it was verbal and monetary abuse.
With Mercedes it was mostly disrespect, gossip, and competition.
When you live a double life in the sex industry, imposter syndrome is no joke.
One day, I remember listening to Celine Dion’s song, “Love me Back to Life,” and something shifted inside me.
I felt like things would change. I went on Google and finally found the answer.
I met someone on the internet which was a Dakini mentor helping women transition out of the industry.
I had no idea if it was even true. All I knew was I needed help.
Sometimes the best life-changing help does come from asking Google.
The truth is our soul is always magnetized and attracted to a soul calling .It goes beyond fancy websites, funnels, or branding schemes.
The soul chooses certain characters on your path to create a remembrance inside of you.
𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚞𝚗𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚗, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎 𝚠𝚎 𝚛𝚎𝚖𝚎𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚛. 𝚃𝚑𝚊𝚝 𝚒𝚜 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚙𝚛𝚊𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚎 𝚘𝚏 𝚊 𝚜𝚎𝚕𝚏-𝚙𝚕𝚎𝚊𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝚜𝚑𝚊𝚖𝚊𝚗. 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚐𝚘𝚊𝚕 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚕𝚠𝚊𝚢𝚜 𝚝𝚘 𝚕𝚎𝚝 𝚐𝚘 𝚘𝚏 𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛𝚢𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚔𝚗𝚎𝚠.
𝐓𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐞𝐝…Part 12: The Belly of the Beast