As I reflect on my journey as a sex worker, I've come to realize that my work is not just a transactional exchange – it's a sacred space for connection, healing, and embodying the divine. In saying that, my full service sex work journey is one I am still shaping, and it has not been easy. I am on the autism spectrum; which makes doing things ‘by the books’ difficult for me. I want to shape my sex work through my beliefs and values, not by a pre-established script. This has negatively impacted my income in this line of work. Despite working in full service for over two years, my financial reality has not aligned with the luxurious lifestyle often pushed by pop culture. Instead, I have simply gotten by. There is a sense of embarrassment lingering in me as I admit to this. Many people boast they would only engage in sex work to grant them access to this supposed glamorous lifestyle, but that is not always the reality. For many of us, sex work is a means of survival. Despite all of this, I am not deterred.
My experience as a sex worker has been positively shaped by the fact that I live in Aotearoa/New Zealand; where sex work has been decriminalised for its citizens thanks to the 2003 Prostitutes Reform Act. I'm very privileged to operate in a country that has taken a bold step towards recognizing our autonomy and human rights. The decriminalization of the oldest profession in Aotearoa has transformed the landscape of sex work, allowing me to approach my craft without the fear of legal repercussions. Make no mistake, the stigma against sex work still exists in Aotearoa. But the decriminalization of my chosen profession made the leap from stripping to full service sex work less intimidating than I know it would have been if I were in a country where sex work is criminalised.
My work is not just a transactional exchange – it's a sacred space for connection, healing, and embodying the divine.
In saying that, my decision to enter full service was not completely self determined. Following a series of exploitative and downright abusive incidents involving management, I chose to exit the strip club industry in 2021. I had to threaten the club with legal action after they refused to refund my $1000 bond, and this resulted in me getting trespassed (banned) from said club. I started to receive a government benefit, taking a year off to process the abuse I was subjected to and to figure out my next move. I decided to move cities in the hope that I could continue my stripping career at a different club, only for my application to be met with a laughing emoji from the owner. I figured I had been blacklisted from the stripping industry due to being an outspoken activist, and I began to panic. Stripping complimented my disabled lifestyle. If I couldn’t work as a stripper, what was I going to do? Naturally, I decided it was time to transition to full service.
Having sex for money was not new territory for me as I had previously been involved with a sugar daddy. I found sugaring to be the most draining form of sex work. Without a specific venue to operate out of, like a brothel or a strip club, the lines between work and my personal life were easily blurred. I did not want to return to sugaring, I did not feel accepted by strip club management, so instead I applied to work out of an escort agency. As the story typically goes, being the new girl, I was making good money. So much so that I was able to get off the benefit and return to supporting myself entirely from sex work. Having disabilities that impact my ability to hold down a 9-5 job, any time I can support myself through sex work I feel empowered within myself. Yes, capitalism sucks and I would rather not work for a living. But hey, this is the reality. If I’m forced to ‘earn a living’ I would rather it be in an industry where I can choose my own hours, be my own boss, and not have a limit to my earning potential. However, the freedom of my newfound independence did not last long.
Yes, capitalism sucks and I would rather not work for a living. But hey, this is the reality.
A few months in, my bookings started to decrease. It became apparent that my characteristics and style of service didn't align with the agency's clients' expectations, making it challenging to secure bookings. This took a toll on my self image, as I started to wonder what it was about me that made clients hesitant to re-book me. My lack of consistent bookings became so notable that I was pulled aside by the Madam, who suggested that I remove my pubic hair, and that I don’t get any more tattoos. I did not take this well. Being on the spectrum, I struggle with being told what to do, especially when it comes to my physical appearance. My disdain towards following the orders of others made working in civilian jobs difficult, and was one of the many reasons why I pursued a career in the sex work industry. I want to be an independent contractor. I want to have complete control over how I market myself as a sex worker and I refuse to compromise. My stubbornness has perhaps been my greatest downfall as a sex worker, but I argue it is also a strength. Working under a decriminalized system of sex work has greatly impacted my sense of autonomy. Embracing this empowerment, I chose to leave the agency and transition to independent sex work. This decision would have been vastly more challenging, if not impossible, under the shadow of criminalization and the ever looming threat of arrest.
At the time of writing this piece, I am still trying to establish myself as an independent sex worker. I’m selective about the clients I choose to engage with, refusing those whose sexual needs do not align with my boundaries. This is made possible by receiving a benefit, which grants me the financial stability to decline bookings that compromise my values. However, I do want to emphasize that relying on a benefit is not a luxury. The harsh reality of Aotearoa's extreme cost of living crisis has pushed me to the edge of financial survival. There have been many days in recent months where I have struggled to get my basic needs met, especially when it comes to the increasing cost of groceries. Losing my benefit would strip me of the agency to decline bookings that raise red flags for me. Despite all of this, I am not deterred. I still hold on to the hope that one day, I will get off the benefit and return to supporting myself entirely through sex work. I have done it before, and I know I can do it again. I’m not ashamed that my full service sex work journey has not granted me a lavish lifestyle. I’m only two years into my full service career, and most of that has been during a recession. I do not see my struggles as a failure on my part. I am still alive and I have a roof over my head, so I consider myself fortunate.
My disdain towards following the orders of others made working in civilian jobs difficult, and was one of the many reasons why I pursued a career in the sex work industry.
I dream of a world where anyone who is willing to exchange sexual services for money can be afforded a luxurious lifestyle. Sex workers are divine, our services are sacred, and our income should reflect that. But unfortunately, there are varying circumstances imposed by patriarchy and white supremacy that place restrictions on sex workers income. I hope my Whore & Tell can shed some light on the reality of being a sex worker, especially during a recession. If you are simply getting by, that is more than enough. Survival sex work is no less valid than quote-un-quote high end sex work. We are all doing our best to survive. Kia kaha!
Are you a sex worker with a story, opinion, news, or tips to share? We'd love to hear from you!
We started the tryst.link sex worker blog to help amplify those who aren't handed the mic and bring attention to the issues ya'll care about the most. Got a tale to tell? 👇☂️✨
