Teaching Tolerance

By Isabella Liss
Illustrations by Yaeesh Collins

Sex work is not something we would typically assume our favourite high school teacher engaged in — the contrast is stark. But Cohen* (27) has found an overlap in these two occupations, drawing on his experiences to teach sex education and spread love amongst learners. They speak to us about the challenges they’ve faced in their own life and career, their desire to help the youth, why they do what they do, and raising their own children.

*Name has been changed. Cohen identifies as non-binary, and uses the pronouns they/them/their/he/his.

Cohen is no stranger to invasive questions that wouldn’t be asked to others. “[As if] sex workers can’t do everyday people things, like their job is going to impede them on a moral basis from having a normal lifestyle,” he says of people’s uninhibited curiosity. These double standards include persistent enquiries about their safety, morality, and cleanliness. Cohen acknowledges that their job does have some “irregularities”. They tell of a client that rushed off an international flight for an appointment, drunk and smeared in his own faeces. “They don’t pay extra for you to clean your apartment,” Cohen laments. They’re honest about often having to tolerate strange behaviour. “One client wanted me to drip gin over his balls and lick it off,” Cohen recalls. “Quite peculiar.” Another had a harmless fetish for colourful fluffy socks. As a result of these incidences, he feels that if anything, people’s curiosity needs to be extended to those who solicit sex workers.

Cohen has deep respect for all religion and has tried and tested multiple faiths in the quest to find peace. This includes Christianity, Islam, and even a short-lived stint in Satanism. “I was honestly just trying to be cool,” he admits. “Now I just practise trying to be a good person.” Religion is something that many young people turn to in their struggles. As a result, alienating them can have disastrous effects. Cohen speaks of being a teenage youth leader in their church group, while being “tormented” with stress and mental illness. The Church was not supportive, as if “coloured people don’t go through mental health issues,” he relays. “I turned to Satanism because it was the most queer and accepting place.”

Cohen’s experiences in being ostracised have led them to teaching tolerance amongst children. He is particularly passionate about making a change in the lives of those who are faced with difficulties. Despite coming from a family of teachers and studying a science-based degree, academics was not initially of interest to them. “It wasn’t fulfilling for me until I got into a classroom and was able to work with kids. Especially black and coloured youth. Just to talk with them about the world, talk with them about . . . just how things are not equal opportunity for everyone. How we can learn to love and respect each other because we are who we are,” Cohen says. But it’s not just about imparting knowledge. “I just love learning from my students. No matter how much of life’s [lessons] I’ve taken over my 27 years, it’s still the students that teach me the most.”

Having chosen to teach in predominately black or coloured communities that hold at-risk youth, he makes a point of telling students he himself did not enjoy school. “I hate what school stands for,” Cohen admits frequently. “When we speak to those feelings that all students feel, they just feel better.” He wants to ensure that learners don’t only shine academically, but feel happy in his classes. Cohen speaks of his singing competitions, diverging from the usual curriculum in order to create opportunities for everyone. Their approach has been successful. “I hear from other teachers that my kids’ manners are different. My kids would go from interrupting their peers to ‘I’m sorry to talk over you’, or 'i respect your opinion’, or just voicing a lot of small things that make their peers feel good.” Other staff comment that the children are behaving positively, even telling Cohen “this is coming from your classroom!” It’s testimony to the need for diversity in education. By being honest with learners about the difficulties they have faced in life and teaching accordingly, Cohen is making a positive impact.

Cohen began practicing sex work through working as a masseuse, but now finds himself involved in “sex work” in a very different manner — teaching sex education. “Sex work is becoming desensitised to whatever sexual organ you have, and knowing how to be around that comfortably.” This has been very useful in educating children, as Cohen can address them without restraint. In turn, they also discuss sex freely. “My kids speak very easily about sex, and I’m happy for that,” he says proudly. The high school curriculum addresses sex in a heteronormative manner in as little detail as possible, but Cohen ensures they cover all bases. “I don’t say only men when we are talking about the penis. I don’t give it a gender. I don’t give the vagina a gender. Then that leads to queer sex, and it leads to . . . not just penis-in-vagina kind of sex.”

Naturally, as someone who devotes so much time to children, Cohen is keen to have his own one day. From sex work to Satanism, they’re prepared to talk about all of it. “I think I have a lot to teach, and a lot to grow on with a kid. I don’t think anything in my life has changed [that].” Their concerns are not surrounding their past, but rather the identity of their future child. Cohen’s partner is a white American, meaning their coloured kid may potentially grow up in the United States for part of their childhood. The coloured identity has roots in South Africa, but is non-existent overseas. “America is hard on me cause there’s nobody like me,” says Cohen. “I’m superbly aware of that.” Cohen and his partner have also discussed adopting a black child, and question whether they have enough knowledge to do this. Either way — a “coloured” American or black South African child — they are raising a person of an identity that is not their own.

Although Cohen has a primary partner, the relationship is not monogamous. They also face the challenge of deciding whether to start a family while in a polyamorous relationship. There are limited examples of similar family units from which they may seek guidance, but Cohen is emphatic: “We wouldn’t do it any other way. Full queer steam ahead!” He acknowledges it will be more difficult than a monogamous relationship by having to take multiple parents’ opinions on child-rearing into account, but states in any case, “I know my parents got it wrong so many times. Maybe more parents will be [better].” Cohen believes in disrupting the nuclear family, and a future that holds many more representations of what a “family” is. Their fundamental idea is to be receptive and flexible. “Just listening to the kid, listening to ourselves. I guess there is no right and wrong — but knowing what feels good or bad. Just being true to ourselves and seeing where that takes us.”

Cohen feels that we miss out on the conversations that enable us to humanise each other when we treat sex work as a “spicy” taboo occupation. Everyone must navigate a way to display their sexuality, and everybody has a right to do so differently without judgment. In getting involved in destigmatisation, he suggests starting in one’s own communities in order to make a difference — just as he has done through teaching. “Asking for advice from people that you’re interested in is the first step. And I can learn from you, and you can learn from me. That’s a gorgeous thing. Just learn with people.”