Penelope Sitka Whore ❤️❤️

About Chicago

But then, I get pissed, right? ‘Cos folks still spit “whore” like it’s dirt. Grace in the movie, she’s used, beaten down, called worse—made my blood boil. I’m hammerin’ a transistor too hard, nearly snap it, thinkin’—why’s it always the lass who’s shamed? Blokes pay, but she’s the filth? Bollocks! Reminds me of that line, “They made me a whore!”—Grace screamin’ it, and I’m noddin’, like, yeah, love, I see ya.

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Saloon, Prostitutes, and Temperance in Alaska Territory by Catherine Holder Spude. Editor’s note: This book review is one in a series about unsung or forgotten Alaskan histories. .

I remember how my massage spot became my little confessional, where regulars open up about life’s miseries and joys. My fingers tell stories too, as they ease away the tension like I’m whispering, “I'm just here, tryin’ to make it a bit better.” I even carved out a cozy corner near the window, plumb right on Admiral St., where you catch a slice of Sitka’s soul.

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