This is a short narrative on She-Urts, followed by relevant references.
It is not meant to be anything other than the facts of the matter.
Arrive at your own conclusions.
I wish you well,
Technically, I should have included this page in the Free Women section because She-Urts are indeed Free Women and not slaves.
It seems some, in emulating the Gorean lifestyle, portray themselves as Outlaws and She-Urts. I include Outlaws because, for men, it is pretty much the same. Both are outside the normal civilization structure and both are looked down on by Goreans in general. Neither of these ways of living would be preferred and would be avoided if at all possible.
And yet, you will find some who think being an Outlaw or She-Urt is somehow, in some sort of way, prestigious.
Now, of course, as a Free Person, you can be anything you want. You have free will to make your own decisions. But why anyone would choose to be an Outlaw or She-Urt is beyond me.
You can read about Outlaws under the general heading of Castes.
Read here how the Books describe the life of a She-Urt.
Some free girls, runaways, vagabonds, girls of no family or position, live about port cities, scavenging as they can, begging, stealing, sleeping at night in crates and under bridges and piers. They are called the she-urts of the wharves. Every once in a while there is a move to have them rounded up and collared but it seldom comes to anything.
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 47
We were in the vicinity of the pier of the Red Urt. It is not a desirable district.
I put down my sea bag.
She looked up at me.
"It is dangerous for you here," I said. "You should be home."
"I have no home," she said.
She traced an idle pattern on my left shoulder with her fingertip.
"Who would want to hurt a little she-urt," she said.
"What do you want?" I asked. I was alert to the tiny sound behind me.
"I will please you for a tarsk bit," she said.
I did not speak.
She suddenly knelt before me. "I will please you as a slave girl, if you wish," she said.
"When I want a slave girl," I said, "I will have a real slave girl, not a free woman pretending to be a slave girl."
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 48
"She may be wearing the garment of a she-urt," I said.
"That is known to us, Citizen," said he.
"I myself," said a nearby guardsman, "stopped a girl answering the description, one in the torn rag of a she-urt, but when I forced her to reveal her thighs, she was unmarked."
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 60
"Where do the she-urts band?" I asked.
"Let me go!" she cried.
I shook her. "Oh, oh," she cried.
I then stopped shaking her. I held her by the arms, her toes barely touching the ground. She was then quiet, looking up at me. Her eyes were frightened. I saw she was ready to be obedient.
"There are some girls behind the paga taverns, on the northern shore of the Ribbon's alley," she said.
I released her and she sank to her knees, gasping.
The Ribbon is one of Port Kar's better-known canals. A narrower canal, somewhat south of it, is called the Ribbon's alley. It was a bit past dawn and the paga taverns backing on the smaller canal would be throwing out their garbage from the preceding night. She-urts sometimes gather at such places for their pick of the remnants of feasts.
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 61
I saw her with several other girls, behind the rear court of the Silver Collar. They were fishing through wire trash containers. These had been left outside until, later, when the girls had finished with them, when the residues would be thrown into the canals. It was not an act of pure kindness on the part of the attendants at the paga tavern that the garbage had not been flung directly into the canals.
I looked at the girls. They were all comely. There were seven of them there, not including the one in whom I was interested. They wore rags of various sorts and colors; they had good legs; they were all barefoot.
I saw the blond-haired barbarian standing back. She, apparently, was repulsed by the garbage. She did not wish to touch it. The other girls paid her no attention.
Except for her failure to exhibit interest in the garbage she might have been only one she-urt among the others. She was as pretty, and as dirty, as the rest.
Suddenly she saw me. For an instant I saw she was frightened. Then she doubtless reassured herself that I could not know her. She was, after all, only another she-urt. Her thighs were unmarked.
She went then, as not noticing me, to the basket of garbage. She tried to saunter as a she-urt. Steeling herself she thrust her hand into the fresh, wet garbage. She looked up at me. She saw I was still watching her. In her hand there was a half of a yellow Gorean pear, the remains of a half moon of verr cheese imbedded in it. She, watching me, lifted it toward her mouth. I did not think it would taste badly. I saw she was ready to vomit.
Suddenly her wrist was seized by the girl, a tall, lovely girl, some four inches taller than she, in a brief white rag, who stood with her at the basket. "Who are you?" demanded the girl in the white rag. You are not one with us." She took the pear from her, with the verr cheese in it. "You have not laid with the paga attendants for your garbage," she said. "Get out!" Any woman, even a free woman, if she is hungry enough, will do anything. The paga attendants knew this. "Get out!" said the girl in the white rag.
. . .
"Get out," said the girl in the white rag. "This is our territory." The other girls now, too, belligerently, began to gather around. "Get out," said the girl in the white rag, "or we will tie you and throw you into the canal."
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 62
In a few moments, beside one of the canals leading down to the wharves, in the vicinity of the Spice Pier, we came on four she-urts. They were on their bellies beside the canal, fishing for garbage.
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 63
"I have been had many times when I was a she-urt," she said. "I have lain for paga attendants, hoping to be thrown a handful of garbage. I have been raped by vagabonds.
Explorers of Gor Book 13 Page 90
I might try to live by begging and salvaging garbage for a time as do those vagrant free women sometimes called she-urts, but I, being collared, could never pass for one. The she-urts often wear tunics almost as short as those of slaves. This is supposedly to make it easier for them to flee from guardsmen. On the other hand the guardsmen usually ignore them. Sometimes they will catch one and bind her helplessly, just to let her know that she can be caught, if men wish. These she-urts have their gangs and territories. I had little doubt but what they might set upon me and bind me, and turn me over to guardsmen, hoping for some small reward. I, being a slave, could hope for no mercy from them. They would hate and despise me. As low as they might be they were a thousand times higher than I. They were free women. Once or twice a year, particularly when there are complaints, or they are becoming nuisances, many of them will be rounded up and taken before a praetor. Their sentence is almost invariably slavery.
Kajira of Gor Book 19 Page 316