Neurodivergence and Sex Work - How I Work Differently

In my opinion, sex workers fall into two distinct categories:

There are the rise-and-grind LLC girlboss retire and-become-a-landlord workers. And then there are those who see ourselves as outlaws and nonconformist.

People who, like me, chose this work because it works for us when so much of the rest of the world doesn’t -- are often neurodivergent. Neurodivergence and sex work go together like peas and carrots. It works for us.

I was never meant to or able to sustain long term civilian work because I’m not “normal.” I’ve never “climbed the ranks” at any job, ever. Despite starting square work at either 14 or 15, and doing it off and on for decades. I’ve never “managed” shit. I do have a bachelor's degree, if that matters. Due to obstacles in my brain, it was extremely difficult to obtain.

All of my life I wondered if there was some sort of guidebook that I was missing, but everyone else had. My brain chemically and electrically doesn’t do the same things a “normal,” or “neurotypical” brain does. As a result, I have always seen the world and its hierarchies as a con, even if I’m just now learning how best to articulate it. None of it made sense. All of it just seems so arbitrary to me.

Social order? Social hierarchy? Why? Because someone said so? Because of some allegedly superior genetics?? Like, no thank you, race scientists, I’m good on all of that eugenicist, white suprematist make-believe. Meritocracy is a sham. The cliché that it’s “not what you know, it’s who you know,” is absolutely true. The idea that any kind of “level playing field” exists is farcical.

Time and time again, for probably a decade, in between doing sex work, I’ve returned to civvie work -- primarily due to societal and familial expectations -- only to be run off by their insistance on hierarchical arrangements. It never works. It’s never been worth it. I hope I never go back.

Most of that work is underpaid and exploitative. The idea of having to ask permission -- as a full grown adult -- from another person in order to “take a break” or have a day off just seems laughable. I don’t want a boss. I don’t need a boss. I’m the boss of me -and sometimes I need mental health days. People swear my work is so degrading, but I spend less time at work, and spend more time with my child and my family than anyone I know -- by an extremely large margin.

I’ve chosen the whore life because, under capitalism, we all must sell our time — and this arrangement allows me to schedule and manage that myself, for myself.

What does “neurodivergent,” even mean? How does it function and what impact does it have?

I’m at the point in my life where I question even the concept of “neurodivergence” itself. Formally considered a known as “mental illness,” rather than a difference in development. These categorizations provide cover to the capitalist and individualist forces that cause them. And as our society and the world at large both slowly and quickly fall apart in front of our eyes, perhaps it is time to question the way we’ve come to think about and categorize the way our brains work. Here are some words from @butchanarchy that really resonated with me on the matter from twitter:

So basically if you don’t function as the robotic cog in the system you’ve been programmed to be your whole life, you’re somehow “divergent.” You’re different. You’re weird. Well if that’s the case, that’s cool with me.

How does neurodivergence come into play at work for me?

I have a habit of counting things in the room while I’m working and the actual physical contact is happening. I’ll find other things to distract myself with. Thinking about pretty much anything but what’s going on. No, antis, it’s not because the work is traumatic. Clocking in and forfeiting 40+ hours a week to turn a major profit for others and a meager one for myself is traumatic. I do these things to speed up the process. We are all watching the clock, waiting for freedom, regardless of job.

For me, dissociation doesn’t come in the form of hovering over my body, seeing the scene from above. I’m there, but I’m not. “The lights are on, but no one’s home,” would be an apt way to put it.

I’m present enough to keep myself safe with a cursory knowledge of my surroundings. Where’s the exit, where’s the phone, what’s in my purse, what’s near me, etc. But beyond that? Baby, this ability to check out serves me perfectly in this line of work. I hate when people conflate sex work and trauma, so let me explain:

The trauma I’ve experienced in life happened outside of sex work. Full stop. I remember noticing this “check out” skill when I was a stripper roughly a decade ago. I was giving a lap dance at one of my favorite clubs, and a customer said something disgusting, but my brain worked like windshield wipers in that moment and suddenly what he’d said was wiped away, gone in the wind. The thing that my psyche developed to help me survive the traumatic moments, I am now wielding in my favor. I won.

Another way my neurodivergence serves me in my work is masking. I learned this term fairly recently, and it named something I hadn’t thought much about. It’s much easier for me to mask for short periods in SW than in, say, an office 40 hours a week. Pretending to be A Person (a civilian) is exhausting. With sex work, I put the mask on for a set number of hours. It’s easier than trying to juggle that 5 days a week at someone else’s beck and call. I have a routine: I put on my makeup, I listen to music and I get into the headspace to work. Once I’m there, I’m able to be whoever I need to be. I am in control completely, therefore I’m affable to men in a way I’d never be able to if it weren’t for the pay. I’ll sell access to my pussy over and over again to avoid that.