Editor’s Note: mentions of harassment and slurs.
I’m a trans masc sex worker whose friends are mostly non-SWs. Although my experiences differ massively from those of other sex workers, especially women, there is some overlap. However, the opinions in this piece are mine and mine only. I do not speak for all sex workers—I speak only for myself.
I’m very open about what I do for a living, and try to set the tone from the beginning by making it clear that I’m comfortable talking about it. When I tell new people about my job, the tendency can be to quickly change the subject, fearful of saying or asking the wrong thing. I sympathise with that, but there are ways to talk about sex work without talking about sex specifically, if that’s something that makes you uncomfortable. My parents ask me how work is going, and I discuss it freely without actually mentioning sex at all—we stick to the business side of things, and I bond with my dad over taxes, pensions, and structuring a limited company. Although there are far more interesting aspects of most people than their jobs, this avoidance can sometimes make the job feel like a taboo, which contrasts with my genuine feelings of pride in my work. Of course, some sex workers prefer not to talk about their work, so it’s worth basing your response on how they introduce themselves and their job—and certainly don’t push if they don’t want to speak. For me, it’s nice to be asked and for the job to be treated the same as any other.
Ignoring that part of my life is one end of the spectrum. At the other end is an inability to see past it. This applies more to acquaintances, or people who saw my porn before they met me in real life, so it’s more understandable. I haven’t had this issue with actual friends, thankfully. It manifests as an assumption that I’m very sexual, all the time, and that the boundaries and lines of consent are looser because I’m a sex worker. This shouldn’t need to be said—although from personal experience, it does—but within sex work, consent is very clear and very much enforced. If anything, my experience is that limits are even clearer than they are in less transactional sex, because there’s so much more conversation beforehand when someone is booking me, and I have a list of ‘do’s and ‘don’t’s on my website. When I meet a client, I’m explicit about these boundaries, and if there’s any hint that they are being disrespected, the session is over immediately. When filming, kinks and limits are discussed in advance.
I’m very open about what I do for a living, and try to set the tone from the beginning by making it clear that I’m comfortable talking about it.
Anecdotally, I know I’m not alone in my experiences of being touched without consent in bars, or oversexualised under the presumption that because I have sex with people at work, I’m free game. Similarly, just because I post my body online, it doesn’t make it acceptable to send me unsolicited nudes. I wonder if there’s a parasocial element to it, where someone has watched my videos and enjoyed them sexually, and struggles with the reality of the situation: that I’m an entire person, outside of my heavily sexualised online image. For me at least, I do like to be approached in public and to chat with new people (obviously, this doesn’t apply to all performers or workers), but this should be initiated with a polite and friendly hello—not with inappropriate touching.
I suppose some of the issues arise from a lack of understanding and lack of information about what the job actually entails. Although I’m vocal about the aspects of sex work I value and enjoy, comments about it being easy are irritating. I’m not about to argue how difficult it is, or to once again list all the various components and tasks that make up this one job. Some days are relaxed and fun; others are challenging and draining—just like any job. I’m conscious here of not trying to over-explain the job, in an attempt to legitimise it or align it with other types of work—it’s just a job. For some sex workers the pendulum swings far more in one direction than the other, so it’s not possible to make blanket statements that apply to everyone.
In some ways, if we’re genuinely treating sex work like any other job, it wouldn’t be necessary to make all these demands of my friends. Can I say specifically what each of my friends does for work? Could I describe their daily routines? No, and it’s understandable, because as I said, there are usually more interesting things to talk about than our jobs. I think the difference with sex work is that most people have preconceived notions about it, whether from reading an article about an OnlyFans creator who bought a house after one year, or from watching films with street workers who end up murdered. It’s understandable that we base our opinions on what we’ve seen and read, but the reality of sex work is much more nuanced than the dominant narratives we tend to see, and the consequence of these misconceptions can have a material impact on our lives in a way that isn’t true of other professions.
The reality of sex work is much more nuanced than the dominant narratives we tend to see...
This lack of awareness sometimes manifests as thoughtless jokes, using words like whore or hooker as an insult, or making offhand comments like, ‘Maybe I’ll need to resort to selling feet pics.’ I understand that these aren’t intended to be cruel or harmful, and in general, from friends, I barely notice them. However, on a larger scale, comments like these do reinforce damaging stereotypes about us: words that describe us are coded negatively and used to be nasty or mean, or implying that sex work is shameful enough that someone would only consider it as a last resort. Of course, some sex workers do view their work in this way—as a last resort, as something they are trying to escape—but in this case we should extend care and exit strategies, not criticism or jokes.
Some of the negativity and judgement towards us overlaps heavily with generally sex-negative attitudes that stigmatise people—usually women—for having a lot of sex. Sex for work is different, anyway, but the rhetoric is similar. As a gay man I don’t encounter this too much, but I see nastiness and slut-shaming directed towards women who have sex, who have agency over their own bodies. This transfers into sex work too, and is unconstructive both for people who are happy at work (they are in control of their own bodies and sexuality, which is a positive thing) and for people who are not (they should be supported, not shamed or criticised). Being an overall sex-positive person is therefore essential for supporting your sex worker friends. This doesn’t mean uncritically assuming that all sex is good, but rather listening to us when we tell you about our experiences, both positive and negative, and not assuming that all sex is bad, either. Avoiding words like ‘slut’ to describe any woman—sex worker or not—is a clear way to create a non-judgemental space for all of your friends.
Above all, what I ask from my friends and acquaintances is that you stand up for our rights as sex workers. Many people are unaware that, although the sale of sex is technically decriminalised in England, aspects of the job are heavily criminalised—usually those that aid our safety. If we escort in pairs, from the same address, we can be prosecuted for brothel-keeping. If I text my friend and ask if they want to work today, this is considered ‘controlling’ prostitution and is a crime. If I help a friend travel to the UK and they do sex work here, I can be convicted of sex trafficking crimes. It’s easy to see how the justice system works against those of us who are already vulnerable, and makes it very difficult to exit sex work even if we want to: a criminal record makes it harder to get another job; receiving a fine means seeing more clients in order to pay it. Aside from overt criminalisation, we often encounter difficulties accessing housing and bank accounts. As friends and allies, it’s important that you educate yourself about the barriers that we face as sex workers, and stand in solidarity against the institutions that create so many problems for us.
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