2017 marked the passing of SESTA-FOSTA, an “anti-sex trafficking” bill which would have profoundly negative implications for consenting adult sex-workers and for the internet at large. Although few outside the sex work community are aware of SESTA-FOSTA, many have noticed its ripple effects, felt largely through increased online censorship of “adult content” (often poorly defined and enforced by shoddy bots) on platforms like Facebook, Instagram, and most famously, Tumblr. This is because SESTA-FOSTA makes it possible for such websites to be held criminally responsible for the activities of their users, particularly those related to sex work. While such online censorship is annoying, the brunt of the suffering inflicted by SESTA-FOSTA has been felt by sex workers, who are now much less able to advertise online. This leads to loss of income, hampered ability to screen clients, and the threat of being driven back to perilous street-based sex work. Meanwhile, there has been no significant increase in the rescue of trafficking victims[1]. The driving force behind SESTA-FOSTA is whorephobia, plain and simple—fear and loathing of sex-workers. This whorephobia is endemic in Judaism, in Christianity, and in society at large, even in progressive discourse. In honor of sex workers everywhere, and in our defense, I dedicate this paper to Na’amah, a succubus revered in Satanism as a Promethean bringer of knowledge, who is also a goddess of prostitution.

Na’amah is a figure from the myth of the Watchers. She is mentioned in Genesis[2], but her role was not developed until later. While early accounts of the Watchers portray the “daughters of man” as innocent victims of the lustful angels[3], Na’amah is neither victim nor innocent.

Exegetic speculation about Na’amah began because she is a named female character in Genesis, which is a bit of a rarity. This prompted the tradition of a demoness named Na’amah, as seen in this passage of the Zohar:

Rabbi Hiyya said, “Why is it written: The sister of Tuval-Cain was Na’amah? What is the point of Scripture specifying her name? Because human beings stray after her, even spirits and demons.

Rabbi Yitsak said, “Those sons of Elohim, Uzza and Azael, strayed after her.”

Rabbi Shim’on said, “She was the mother of demons…”[4]

Na’amah is identified as a descendant of Cain, who the Zohar claims was the illegitimate issue of Eve by Samael. She is also the sister of Tubal Cain, and of Jubal. Tubal-Cain was the first smith, and Jubal was the first musician.[5] Tubal Cain’s profession is particularly relevant, as according to Enoch 8:1 it was Azazel who taught metalworking to humanity. Music isn’t mentioned among the gifts given by the Watchers, but given Jubal’s proximity to Na’amah and his status as first musician, it wouldn’t be a far-fetched interpretation to add it to the list. Thus, Na’amah becomes an information broker—trading on her charms to obtain forbidden knowledge, and then turning around to share it with her family and the wider community. Seen in this light, Na’amah becomes combination of Prometheus, Pandora, and a sex-worker Robin Hood.

Aside from metallurgy for weapons and adornment, the Watchers are said to have taught alchemy, magic, herbalism, cosmetics, medicine, identification of precious stones, astronomy and astrology.[6] From a Satanic perspective, Na’amah (and by extension, humanity) got the better end of the deal—the Watchers had their fun, but Na’amah obtained skills and knowledge to be shared with the world. She cannot be read as either a victim or as a selfish, grasping gold-digger. While she may have used her wiles, she used them to uplift her community.

Contrary to common misconceptions, this interpretation of Na’amah’s story reflects the realities and behavior of sex-workers quite well. Neither helpless victims nor selfish, antisocial parasites, sex workers often report satisfaction with their work and pride in their earnings. They look out for one another and engage in activism and advocacy. Often the highest earners in low-income communities, they enjoy giving back to those around them. In such communities sex workers are the ones who can afford nice things, who can spend a little money on something extra, who have the ways and means to go beyond “just surviving” and to help others to do the same. There are no citations in this paragraph because I am speaking from lived experience as the partner of a sex worker, the friend of many sex workers, the pastor of a church containing a disproportionate number of sex workers as congregants—and as a sex worker myself.

Like us, Na’amah wanted to see her community vibrant and thriving, not merely surviving. She was a woman in a world without jewelry, cosmetics, gems, herbs, spices—a world without luxury, a world without magic, a world where humans did not yet ponder the stars. She felt the poverty of such a world, its joylessness and lack of glamour, and she acted to change it. And she did it all with the tools of the so-called oldest profession, trading on her charm and sensuality to get what she wanted. Alongside her brother Tubal Cain, the first smith and her brother Jubal, the first musician, Na’amah can be read as an important first—the first whore.

Whores, of course, are not highly valued in society, not even in liberal circles. In God vs. Gay? Jay Michaelson writes:

I’ve seen the love I share with my partner compared to the lust someone might experience with an animal—or even a child. You’ve heard this before—the “slippery slope” argument that if we legitimize homosexuality, what’s to stop us from legitimizing bestiality, or prostitution, or whatever? But of course there’s an answer to this rhetorical question. Bestiality, pedophilia, and prostitution cannot lead to love, commitment, intimacy, holiness, family, and durable emotional bonds. Same-sex intimacy can.[7]

Michaelson rightly objects to the equation of homosexuality with bestiality and pedophilia, yet is comfortable lumping prostitution in with these acts of horrific violation. He also later discusses the fact that objections to homosexuality in the Hebrew Bible are really objections to the cultic prostitution which may have been practiced by the Canaanites.[8] Yet while he understands perfectly that this objection is rooted not in moral judgment so much as in a cultural taboo designed to distinguish the Israelites from the Canaanites, he does not extend this logic to the condemnation of prostitution as well. He seems to accept as a given that prostitution is a shameful abomination. Elsewhere in the text he connects sex work to the behavior of closeted religious gay males[9], thus exposing his personal association between sex work and secret shame. I do not mean to imply here that he has any personal experience with such, merely that he has been exposed to enough stories of other closeted men’s behavior to have formed the association. From my anecdotal experience, this association is correct: most of the men I speak with as a phone sex operator are closeted for religious reasons. What Michaelson is missing from his analysis is the fact that people like me are often the only connection these men have to their sexuality prior to coming out, and their only source of intimacy and approval.

Here I choose to relate a deeply personal story. For many years I worked as a professional dominant, performing consensual sadomasochistic acts for money. I had a regular client named Benjamin. We became very genuinely fond of each other and formed an intimate bond. Benjamin died of pancreatic cancer in 2017. I remained present in his life during his illness and spoke to him on his deathbed. He chose to include me in his will. It turns out he was a very wealthy and influential man with a great need for discretion in his relationships. I gave him an intimacy that would not have been available to him otherwise. I was the only person who knew that side of him, who saw and held and treasured it. His passing, and the grief I felt for it, are a large part of what drove me to ministry; and the money he left me is the only thing that has made me capable of affording seminary. I wonder what Michaelson would think of that.

This is holy work and I perform it in honor of Na’amah, first of the holy whores. Like her, I gained resources through my sexuality. And like Na’amah, I now choose to turn around and share those resources with my community—a congregation of queer, transgender sex workers who turn to our church for the validation of their lives, loves, identities and professions that they could not find anywhere else.

[1] Siouxsie Q, “Anti-sex-trafficking Advocates Say New Law Cripples Efforts to Save Victims,” Rolling Stone, May 25, 2018, https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-features/anti-sex-trafficking-advocates-say-new-law-cripples-efforts-to-save-victims-629081/.

[2] Genesis 4:22.

[3] Veronika Bachmann, “Illicit Male Desire or Illicit Female Seduction? A Comparison of the Ancient Retellings of the Account of the “Sons of God” Mingling with the “Daughters of Men” (Gen 6:1-4) in Early Jewish Writings eds, Eileen Schuller and Marie-Theres Wacker v.3.1 of The Bible and Women: An Encyclopedia of Exegesis and Cultural History (Atlanta: SBL Press, 2017), 124-129.

[4]Daniel Chanan Matt, trans., The Zohar: [sefer Ha-zohar], pritzker ed. (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 2004-2017), 309.

[5] Genesis 4:21-22.

[6] First Enoch 7:2-8:4.

[7] Jay Michaelson, God vs. Gay? The Religious Case for Equality, Queer Action/queer Ideas (Boston: Beacon Press, 2011), 50.

[8] Michaelson, 64-66.

[9] Michaelson, 13, 44-45.