Our society views sex work through a negative lens, painting it as unworthy of respect, and people who engage in it as desperate and addicted to drugs. According to a study by the Urban Institute, approximately 67% of people believe sex work is inherently exploitative. This perception contributes to harsh judgments that affect not just public recognition but also personal relationships.
Despite the stigma, I am proud of being a sex worker. Just like any other profession, being a successful sex worker requires skills; there is a lot more to being a sex worker than private parts. It’s disheartening that many people fail to recognize the talents involved in this work (I am sure right now you are balking at what I just said, but that is a topic for a different day). When someone asks, "What do you do?" I often hesitate, feeling a wave of anxiety wash over me. It's not shame that grips my heart; it's the fear of backlash and judgment that could follow an honest response.
Every time I choose to obscure my identity, I sense a part of myself slipping away. It’s as if each white lie chips away at my authenticity, leaving behind a façade I hardly recognize. The toll of this contradiction grows heavier with time. This avoidance fosters a deep sense of isolation. Many friends and acquaintances remain unaware of my true self, and these barriers hinder my ability to form genuine connections. The fear of judgment permeates social interactions, making it feel challenging to bond with others.
I crave the kind of friendships that include laughter and shared stories, but I often retreat into a shell, leaving my true self hidden beneath the surface. For instance, during casual brunches with friends, I catch myself smiling while internally battling the feeling that I am a fraud and a big fat liar, which has led me to isolate myself.
Living with my secret incurs a high cost, one that weighs heavily on my mind and soul, leading me into a deep state of depression. The emotional toll is profound, as I often feel trapped in a cycle of silence and secrecy. While no one should be forced to choose between authenticity and social acceptance, that’s the reality I face every day. I grapple with complex emotions, questioning who I am in the eyes of others versus who I truly am. Friends and family, unaware of the turmoil brewing beneath the surface, continue with their lives, while I remain on the sidelines, unable to fully engage or connect.
Despite the turmoil, I truly am proud of myself and my work. My ongoing journey towards embracing my feelings and society’s rejection is a complex and evolving process. Looking ahead, I think of Carol Leigh, a sex worker, who passed away in November of 2022 at the age of 71. She shared her story and is actually responsible for the term "sex worker." I don't feel comfortable sharing my story now, but I do plan on emulating her in the future. I hope by doing this I can shed some light on the complex stigma surrounding sex work.
Getting at the root of why I have been so depressed has not been a fun process but it also brings a sense of hope—something I haven't experienced in quite some time. At the moment, I only feel comfortable educating those close to me about the true nature of sex work. I encourage each of you to do the same, even though your initial reaction might be a resounding "no way in hell!" due to the fear of being linked to having encountered a sex worker or even discovering this blog. Perhaps now you understand, as you've felt a fraction of what I experience daily. Next time you hear the term "hooker," you might be able to correct it by saying, "It's 'sex worker,' get with the program already."
❤️ Charlotte (and indeed, I am a sex worker!)
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