This strange yet beautiful song depicts the crucial moment when a whore offers her services for a price and a client turns her down by using obfuscation to tell her he does not pay for sex. She (as a tear rolls down her cheek) then responds with, “water me,” which means, “water me like begonias,” and that is not only a reference to sleep but to death and depression. In the U.S. we say, “pushing up daisies.”
While it was a man who turned her down when she offered a price for sex, I connect this jumping off point to how women judge each other, because I still believe that the client (man) uses the way in which many women communicate by cutting one another down, cattily to be at the source. What I find fascinating about this poignant portrayal of the life of a whore is that it elucidates the oppression of all women by showing in an instant that women are made to choose between a chaste life, one involving marriage and kids, or to become the lowest of the low: a slut. I asked my roommate the other day if she liked women, and she said, immediately, “no.” I agreed with her, but it is a sad thing that women, instead of finding solidarity, prop themselves up by using comparisons like, “I have only slept with 3 men,” or, “I would never sell my body,” or, “I have never had an abortion,” and countless other things that create an unnecessary hostility among and between us that prevents us from seeing sex workers as equals, and if women chose the higher road of identifying, simply as women with diverse preferences, we would encourage genuine self esteem through tolerance. What we settle for in vain is a sad exercise that leaves many of us, including me feeling as if all of life is a battle of few words. It reminds me of reading a book with no plot, seeing a film with no clear ending, or creating a dress with no stitches.
It has been said that, “comparisons are odious,” and when all we do is that in a futile attempt to raise our self esteem by claiming that true beauty and success involve only so-called, morally upright behaviors imposed upon us and leaned upon, subsequently by shallow people who rely on ancient and tired traditions without question, when encouraging self actualization would build each of us up in a healthier way based upon newer knowledge, we reduce the female and human experience to an idiotic game of back and forth with nothing except a hollow, superficial, and transitory endless pit to fall into. This is true anti-intellectualism perpetuated by women and supported by impatient people. I see, now why the expression, “vanity, thy name is woman,” was coined, but I, also fault men who take advantage of this simple-mindedness, as well.