After the Consumer Electronics Show, I spent several days in Los Angeles, during which I attended a meeting of COYOTE (Call Off Your Old Tired Ethics), the only national sex worker's rights organization. It was established by Margo St. James in 1972 as a prostitute's advocacy group. COYOTE soon expanded its political scope to represent the interests of all sex workers. As Executive Director Norma Jean Almodovar explained, "We realized we were all in it together."

Pornography and prostitution have a great deal in common: They both involve sex for money and they share the same enemies. It has long been argued that pornography is a form of prostitution. The only difference between the two acts is that a camera is running while the porn act is being performed.

The debate is heating up on whether being paid to perform a legal act (that is, to have sex) should be illegal. At one extreme of the debate, ex-porn queen "Holly Ryder," a.k.a. Lisa Marie Abato, is crusading to collect one million signatures to put an initiative on the 1994 California state ballot to change the state constitution so as to prohibit the production of pornography in California.

At the other extreme, actress Roseanne Arnold openly admitted to Vanity Fair that she had briefly worked as a prostitute. In her own words, "I think prostitution should be legal, because the way any society treats prostitutes reflects directly on how it treats the highest and most powerful woman."[1]

It is no coincidence that this debate is taking place in Los Angeles, where eighty percent of the country's sexually explicit films are made.

Only sex workers or their advocates are invited to COYOTE meetings-and an invitation is necessary to attend. Since I qualified on the latter count, I found myself-at two p.m. on a bright Sunday afternoon-standing outside an upscale condominium, asking to be buzzed in.

Again, I dressed in feminist drag: Reeboks, blue jeans, and a loose sweater. But, this time, it was for an entirely different reason. Instead of wanting to set myself apart, I wanted to blend into the group. It was Sunday; Norma Jean had assured me the meeting was casual; I didn't want to look like an outsider.

Norma Jean's husband met me at the door with a welcoming smile. Norma Jean stood in the kitchen, wearing a pale blue jeans outfit with a design in metal studs across the top. She was presiding over the preparation of a feast consisting of huge trays of chicken wings, egg rolls, pizza snacks, lasagna, meatballs, garlic bread, and potato chips. "The leftovers from a Christmas party," she explained, sticking the nametag "Wendy" on my chest and handing me a plate, with exhortations to "eat!"

With a full plate of lasagna and chicken wings, I scoped out the living room. Over a dozen people-three of them men-were sprawled across the two couches, various chairs, and the floor. I sized up the group. The women all wore jeans or slacks, with T-shirts or some type of sweater. Only one or two seemed to be wearing make-up, and none of them had their hair "fixed" in anything but a ponytail. There was an Asian woman, but no other discernible minorities. Except for a woman in her fifties, the average age was about thirty. One of the three men was dressed in a suit; the other two were casual.

I tried to judge from their faces and attitudes as to who they were-sex worker or sexual rights advocate? Was the thirtyish tired-looking woman-the only one to wear heavy makeup-a prostitute? The older woman, who smiled up pleasantly from the floor, did she work a sex phone line? What about the pumped-up young guy, was he a male stripper? And how did they peg me?

At the right end of a large wooden coffee table, an attractive, angry-looking woman sat cross-legged, while an intense-looking man hovered. He placed two sheets of paper in front of her and gestured toward them as he spoke.

I caught the gist of the exchange. His name was Edward Tabash, a Beverly Hills lawyer whose passion was civil liberties. One of the sheets of paper was a photocopy of an op-ed by him from the Los Angeles Times entitled "Stop Jailing Women for Their Own Good," with the subtitle, "Prostitution: Forbidding sale of sex by consenting adults is paternalistic and condescending." The editorial read, in part:

The other sheet gave the details of a recent court decision on entrapment. No longer would a police officer who slept with a prostitute be able to testify in court against her, since he was now considered to be an accomplice to the crime.

I asked if they minded my joining the conversation. The woman seemed annoyed-what I later discovered was her pervasive attitude toward everything-and Tabash seemed "professional." He went into the same patter with me as with the other woman. I wondered whether he consciously distanced himself from women "in the business" or whether he was just being careful around someone he didn't know.

The conversation ended and another sprang up. The woman who had smiled pleasantly announced that this was her first time at a COYOTE meeting. She didn't know what to expect. The heavily made-up woman piped in with the same information. I relaxed as I realized that COYOTE was probably more intimidating to sex workers than it was to me. After all, I was used to standing up for myself.

Our chat was cut short by an odd coincidence. The distant acquaintance whom I had met at CES walked through the door, jumped a few inches at the sight of me, then gravitated to where I was sitting. It was his first COYOTE meeting as well, and I began to appreciate how the organization was just now rebuilding itself.

D. and I fell into an easy conversation about old times until I noticed that several people-including Tabash-were listening to us. I realized how no one else seemed to be talking to each other as D. and I were-that is, on a personal level. No one was asking the typical "new person" questions like, What do you do for a living? Are you married? How long have you lived in L.A.? Where do you come from originally?

Norma Jean signaled an abrupt end to all conversation by calling the meeting to order. The living room now held about thirty people, one of whom was the guest speaker, attorney Tom Tanana.

A series of papers was passed from person to person and when they got around to me I found they included a COYOTE memo with the meeting's business agenda, Tabash's op-ed piece, and an update on the crusade of "Holly Ryder." The first order of business was the same disclaimer that appeared at the top of the COYOTE memo:

Norma Jean repeated this disclaimer and, so, distanced herself from conducting a meeting to facilitate prostitution, which could have resulted in a pandering charge. She said everyone could use their own names or pseudonyms, as they wished. Tanana's talk would be recorded, but if anyone did not want his or her voice to be on tape the recorder would be stopped and the question repeated on tape by Tanana before he answered it. After Norma Jean finished, Tabash re-emphasized that the First Amendment guaranteed the right to assemble for political purposes. Both of them were covering every base, in case an undercover agent happened to be present.

The business meeting began. Norma Jean gave an overview of current COYOTE activities, which included contacting Roseanne Arnold and inviting her to join the organization. A similar invitation had been made to actor John Larroquette, whose weekly television show features a prostitute who is witty, in control, and very human.

Tabash's op-ed piece was held up, followed by another article from the Los Angeles Times, which discussed a woman who offered free self-help classes to current or former prostitutes. Norma Jean asserted, "I feel proud of what I did when I was a prostitute, but in case you don't . . ." She read the information aloud and left the news clipping on a table by the front door.

Next, the group coordinated a March 2nd trip to San Francisco in order to meet with COYOTE members up there. The main topic for discussion between the two memberships was whether COYOTE should push to legalize prostitution or to decriminalize it. Norma Jean wants decriminalization, since legalization would entail the same hardships that women experience in Nevada. There, prostitutes are treated like civil servants; they clock into government-licensed brothels where working conditions have all the charm of a post office. They have no selection in clients, no control over what they charge or the hours they work. (A major attraction of prostitution, especially to women with children, is the flexible hours and independence.)

Legalized prostitutes have to "register" with the police, and so lose the anonymity that permits them to move easily out of the profession into marriage or other employment. Moreover, the women have to obey a slate of laws that apply only to them. For example, they are not supposed to be on the streets at night, even to walk to the corner store for a quart of milk for their kids' cereal in the morning. They do not enjoy the same freedom as every other woman in Nevada.

Decriminalization, on the other hand, merely defines prostitution as an activity that is not addressed by the law. Being a prostitute would be no more regulated than being a secretary.

A sign-up sheet for the trip to San Francisco was passed around, and I was amazed by how many people signed up including D. After all, they had to pay for their own ticket and take time away from work and family. The group might be fairly new, but a hard core was developing fast.

The featured speaker, who was from San Diego, began by commenting on how police were cracking down on prostitution there and asked what the situation was in L.A. Two women claimed things were even worse in L.A.

Tanana's talk centered around entrapment laws, the laws by which a policeman poses as a trick and lures a prostitute into solicitation. Changes in the law appear to be weighed in favor of the prostitute because the current wording requires her to give a "manifestation of consent" to any offer of money for sex. But, as Norma Jean observed and as the lawyers confirmed, "manifestation" can mean a nod, a smile, a shrug of the shoulders, or even a suggestive silence. Moreover, if the policeman decides to lie, no court or jury would believe a whore over a cop.

Tom advised that entrapment should be a defense of last resort, since the prostitute has to admit guilt and then plead extenuating circumstances. He also painted a bleak picture for the possibility of avoiding entrapment.

"What if I ask the guy if he's a cop?" asked a striking redhead with granny glasses and a steno pad.

"He can deny it and still make the charges stick," Tabash replied.

"What if I'm careful?" the irritated brunette to my right interjected. "What if I just say . . ." her voice sank to a whisper that went with a seductive shifting of her shoulders, "hey, do you want to party? Or, I could carry a recorder in my purse and tape the whole thing."

"The police would throw the tape away," Tanana answered. "If you make trouble and you have children, they could threaten to take them away," added Tabash.

"They would threaten to take them away!" corrected the redhead, and quoted the section of law under which the authorities could do it.

Tanana offered a piece of advice, "Something I've seen work if you think the policeman is taping you, is to say out-of-the-blue, 'Don't touch me there!' It makes the cop look bad and the tape is hard to use against you."

As "what can be done" became the center of discussion, people began to share their stories. The man in the suit, P., sitting directly behind me, spoke up. He had owned a successful escort service until-as he put it-certain "competitors" wanted him out of the business. The police tapped his phone on their own initiative and found out where and when to expect his escorts. Eventually, they were able to arrest him.

"But a phone tap like that wouldn't be admissible as evidence in court," D. insisted.

Tom agreed. Illegal taps were not admissible evidence, but they were nevertheless constantly used to convict people. Example: If the police suspect someone of holding up liquor stores, they can bug his phone and find out when and where the next robbery is planned. Then, a police car can arrange to be across the street from that store at the proper time. The phone tap need never come up in court. The same is true with prostitution. As well, the police can use phone recordings to intimidate the women.

Tanana urged everyone to be careful on the phone and to tape their own conversations so they could prove what had really been said. The Asian woman objected, "If I have nothing to hide, why should I bother to tape myself?" Both lawyers answered in unison, "Self-defense."

In order to illustrate the dangers, Tanana went into his own experiences with police in San Diego, where he walks the city's equivalent of a strip and passes out fliers telling women where to go for legal aid and how to report police abuse. Not long ago, women on the strip began warning him that a particular policeman intended to pick him up and "beat the shit out of him."

He encountered the officer and they had words, during which the policeman refused to give Tanana his badge number. Later in the evening, Tanana tried to cross an empty street at a marked crosswalk. The only car in sight-a police car-drove up and cut him off. Tanana asked the officer to move and was informed that he was "interfering with a police investigation." He was issued a first warning.

Turning around, Tanana realized that in order to cross the street legally and get to his car, he would have to go through other policemen who were standing at the curbs. Every legal route to his car involved encountering policemen. He asked the officer in the patrol car, "How can I get back to my car without interfering with a police investigation a second time?"

The officer responded, "You're an adult. Figure it out." Tanana changed tactics. "Then, can you tell me the scope of the police investigation so that I can be sure to stay out of it?"

The officer responded, "You're an adult. Figure it out." What finally saved Tanana was the video camera with which many police vehicles are now equipped. The video would have shown the "set-up," but-somehow-before Internal Affairs could act on it, the tape was lost and the matter was dropped. According to Tom, he lives in fear of drugs being planted on him. "What can be done?" became the heated question. A strategy was suggested: Whenever a woman was arrested for solicitation, she should insist on her right to an immediate jury trial. This would clog the system to the point of breakdown. Tabash seemed to disagree. For one thing, a lot of courts like those in Santa Monica were not backlogged. For another thing, women who demanded jury trials or caused other difficulties were bound to receive much stiffer sentences and fines than if they just pleaded guilty. An attorney, he argued, has to represent the interests of a specific client. He would have to advise against such a course of action.

Norma Jean suggested a useful way to psychologically approach policemen and courts. She observed that the current laws against prostitution were ostensibly there to protect women in the business. Many feminists and lawmakers actually believed that prostitutes were psychologically damaged and incapable of choosing what they did. She urged the women to refuse to let anyone treat them like mental incompetents. If they insisted on their rights and on their competence to choose, it would give them the psychological advantage.

Meanwhile, people continued to arrive. As they announced their names over the apartment intercom, Norma Jean checked that the newcomers were known and had been invited by someone in the group before buzzing them in. I discreetly caught Norma Jean's attention and told her the name of a friend who would be arriving shortly to drive me to another meeting.

I had hardly passed this news on when my friend showed up. I hurried her into the seclusion of the kitchen. There, I discreetly exchanged information with P., whose case interested me. Always a quick study, my friend stayed to one side, chewing on chicken wings. She scanned the handout that spelled out the business agenda. The section "Future Topics for Speakers" seemed to catch her attention.

1. Plastic Surgery-how to prolong our looks for the biz

2. Sex Surrogacy-how to make the transition

3. Bail Bondsmen-how to find one who will be on call

4. Legit Massage-how to enter, get training, etc.

6. How to Win a Claim Against a Bad-Check Client

Oddly enough, the thing that has haunted me about the COYOTE meeting was not the speaker or the audience. It was a comment my friend made.

When we were settled in her car, she turned and asked with genuine concern, "Are you all right?" The question caught me off guard. I wanted to know why she asked. "Because your face is beet-red and it has been that way for the last ten minutes." A glance in the rearview mirror confirmed this. I suddenly realized how angry I was. How angry I had become over the last few hours while listening to how society treated prostitutes like dirt because it didn't like their sexual choices.

I wondered if feminists who attack prostitutes as psychological incompetents had ever met women in the industry-not the victims who flee, but the majority who stay. I wondered if I could ever again blithely exhort sex workers to "stand up for yourself" when I now knew they could lose their children for following my advice. How many times through history have women had to defend themselves against self-proclaimed "protectors"? By defining myself as an advocate of sex worker's rights-a protector-wasn't I placing myself on a higher level than these "unfortunate" women?

Maybe sex workers are like every other type of women in our society. Maybe they just need a bit of respect. It's a lesson I'm still learning.