Sex Work and the Herky-Jerk of Supply and Demand

By Dr Dick

Providers and consumers are two sides of the same coin; the operative word being coin. Few things are more troublesome to the social hierarchy than the notion of sex for money. And yet, as the saying goes, there’d be no supply if there weren’t a demand.

Ordering Out, Ordering In

I travel a lot for work and often get really lonely on long trips. I don’t go to bars, because I don’t drink. The idea of looking for sex in a bathhouse or sex club puts me off. Lately I’ve been thinking I should just hire an escort, but I wouldn’t even know where to begin. It must be a pretty common phenomenon though, because I see tons of ads for escorts online in every city I go to. Any suggestions on how I might proceed?
— Gabe

I presume you’ve ordered out for food while traveling for business, right? Finding a satisfying “order-out” sexual adventure is not all that different. In the case of an escort, the commodities are charming company, erotic massage, and possibly a little sex, instead of potstickers, mu shu pork and Kung Pao Chicken. Now if someone would devise a marketing plan to combine the two—erotic massage and mu-shu pork? We’d all die from an overabundance of bliss!Not all order-out is created equal. Just as there is bad food, there are also unsavory escorts. Do your homework. You already know there are scads of escort or rent-a-boy sites on the net. There are also plenty of review sites, where customers of the provider leave their comments regarding levels of satisfaction and the like. Most escorts, particularly the really good ones, immediately call your attention to the reviews they’ve received. It’s like having the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval stamped on your ass.

Supply and Demand

Start by interviewing a few working boys. This can initially be done via email. Ask for further information about services and rates. Many escorts have photos of themselves available to send to prospective clients, so you might respectfully request those. If at all possible, include a photo of yourself—or at the very least, an accurate description.

When communicating with a service provider, never suggest that you are offering money for sex; in most jurisdictions, that’s against the law. While most clients hope to get a little sex in the encounter, the money exchanged is not for the sex. It is for the provider’s time and expertise. This may sound like splitting hairs, but if sex happens it is by mutual agreement by consenting adults during the time you’ve arranged to be together.

Finding the right escort for you is your task. Know what you want and know how to ask for it. Don’t waste your time or that of the provider by beating around the bush. If you are new at this, say so. The rent-a-boy, if he’s any good at all, will be familiar with this territory and help you though the initial conversation. There are different levels of pros out there; each will have his own fee structure for services provided. If you’re looking for something kinky, be ready to pay more. Never bargain with the provider. If he’s out of your price range, move along. Or come right out with it and say, “Listen, I have X amount of money to spend. Are you available?” This gives the provider the option to see you at the discounted rate. You’d be a fool not to insist on safe sex, but there’s a shitload of fools out there.

When arranging an outcall to your hotel, there may be an additional surcharge for traveling cost. This should be agreed upon before the deal is struck.

Not all prostitutes are prostitutes because they want to be. But most guys turn pro because they’re good at what they do. And most enjoy the accompanying lifestyle. The truly successful provider will have a string of regulars, men they have a somewhat more intimate connection with. Kinda like finding a great Chinese restaurant and becoming a regular there. The proprietor might just offer you something not on the menu as a way of acknowledging your preferred customer status. Get it?

Some johns use the service of an agency, which can be a reliable way to go at first. However, I believe the hard-working independent entrepreneur is often one’s best bet.

You’ll also find among the independents a unique phenomenon—Gay for Pay. These are ostensibly “straight” (and I use that word in quotes with great intent) guys who will have gay sex with gay men for money. In the old days, we used to refer to them as trade. And like we in the business say, “today’s trade is tomorrow’s competition.”

Remember, a wise and informed consumer is happy and satisfied consumer.

I’m just out of college and have a ton of bills and no real job prospects at the moment. A friend suggested I do some escorting to make ends meet. Guys tell me that I’m hot and I like sex, but I don’t know if I could pull it off. Suggestions?
— Kevin

Being hot and liking sex are great assets if you decide to turn pro, but you’ll need a whole lot more than that. Being a sex worker is not like having sex for love, or even recreational sex. You will be exchanging sex for money, and that makes it a business proposition. You’d be wise to approach this with as much forethought as you would any other profession. It is, after all, the world’s oldest.

You’ll need the physical fortitude to be sexual with a wide range of people; some who may not be attractive to you. And when there’s an exchange of money, the john becomes your customer. And all pro sex is client-directed; it’s not about you, even when it looks like it’s all about you.

You’ll also need the emotional distance and psychological resilience to cope with the intimacy issues this line of work creates. This is precisely the point where most fledgling sex workers flounder. They either give too much, or not enough. Some actually resent their clients for sustaining them. Go figure! A lack of clarity on this issue will cause troubling boundary issues for both you and your john.

A cheap street hustler turning tricks to support a drug habit and an expensive rent-boy who is attending the rich and famous face many of the same pitfalls. A lot of sex workers are self-destructive, or have huge unresolved sex issues that they are trying to compensate for by making people pay them for what they usually give away.

If you still think this is a line of work for you, know that your mind and body are your greatest business assets. Take care of them. Keep them clean, fit and toned. Hygiene, both physical and mental, is a must. Improve your mind. Make yourself interesting. Stay abreast on current affairs. Develop other skills like massage and bodywork. Self-awareness, not the narcissistic type, and safe-sex practices are your front line defense against STIs.

Stay clean and sober while on the job. More sex workers get busted for drugs than hustling. Know how to handle a drugged-out client. You’ll probably see a lot of those. Know that they can take forever to get off, and can sometimes be paranoid and dangerous.

Be fiscally responsibility. Plan for the lean times…and there will always lean times. You’ll probably be a hot property at first; it’s the new meat phenomenon. Don’t let this go to your head. There will be cuter, younger, hotter competition getting off the bus tomorrow. Try to cultivate a number of regular clients. Have a thought to how and where you will market yourself. And I encourage you not to do this full-time. If you find it difficult to pay the rent, you’ll be tempted to do more and more risky things just to make ends meet.

Sex work is often more about being psychologically present than a sexual performance. Your clients will often be more lonely and isolated then they are horny. Always treat them with respect.

You should have at least one trusted friend who knows your whereabouts at all times, or who has access to your appointment book. Never make a date with anyone who won’t share his/her phone number with you. And always make a call back before you head out. Keep an appointment book, in code if you must.

Have a travel bag prepared with all the basics you will need: condoms, lube, massage oils, handy-wipes, an extra shirt, toys, mace (or other protective equipment). Have that bag ready to pick up and leave if there’s trouble.

Finally, I suggest that you connect with other sex workers in your area. There is strength in numbers. Other rent-boys will provide you with essential information about troublesome clients and help you get the lay of the land, so to speak.

Good Luck!

Don’t Call Me by My Real Name

— As a sex worker, I had to set boundaries with clients that I sometimes couldn’t abide by myself.

By Chris Belcher

Clients love to ask sex workers, “What’s your real name?” It’s a power move. “I know you contain multitudes” is what they mean, “and I have the right to see.” They paid, after all.

The clients who asked this question of me were usually the type who had tricked themselves into believing that we had a personal relationship — a romantic one, or a sexual one they wouldn’t have to pay for had we met under different circumstances.

When clients pried, I liked turning the question back on them.

“John is my real name!” he might say, laughing at the idea that he, unlike me, would have anything to hide.

“John is my real name too,” I might say with a wink.

For the better part of a decade, I was Mistress Natalie, a professional dominatrix. A teasing sense of humor was an asset on the job.

I didn’t always act coy in that situation. Occasionally a client would ask for my real name, and I would answer honestly, telling them that my friends call me Chris. It was a powerless move. “I contain multitudes” is what I meant, “and don’t want you to think this is all I am.”

I told myself that these clients were different — young, like me, or graduate students, like me, or queer women, like me. I needed to believe they could see the me beneath the corsets, fake eyelashes and thigh-high boots.

This was always a bad reason to tell a client my real name. There was rarely a good reason. A fake name is a boundary, and some clients have no problem pushing a sex worker’s boundaries.

I still receive emails from a female client who began pursuing me obsessively after she learned my first name.

“Dear Chris: I’m going to build a house someday, and I hope you’ll live in it with me.”

“Dear Chris: You’re the love of my life.”

“Dear Mistress Natalie: When I first came to you, I was nervous and you made me feel comfortable. As I’ve had time to reflect, I realize that I overstepped my boundaries with you.”

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I try to ignore these messages, but it’s hard. I’m afraid of her. My girlfriend was afraid of her, too. The client sent gifts from my Amazon Wish List, which piled up on our doorstep while I was away.

“Don’t worry, baby,” I said to my girlfriend. “She doesn’t know my last name. She doesn’t know how to find us.” But I didn’t know for sure.

After that girlfriend and I broke up, I was alone in my fear, which came as a relief.

Nearly a decade ago, in a hotel room in a southern city, I met a client who was another graduate student. His name really was John, and John’s Ph.D. would be in computer science. Mine would be in the humanities. This explains why he had money to hire a dominatrix and I had so little that I needed to play one on the side.

When John walked into my room, I thought he was cute. When he told me all he wanted to do was kiss my leather boots, I thought, “Easy money.” When he told me he had a girlfriend, I wondered why he couldn’t kiss her boots for free. (Our culture really does a number on men who are interested in sexual submission.)

“What’s your real name?” John asked after the session.

I didn’t give him the name my friends call me, Chris, but the name my parents gave me, Christina. I told him I was a Ph.D. student like him, studying English. I contain multitudes!

With a little research, he was then able to find my last name.

When I was back home, he texted: “So, Doctor, what happens if I start developing feelings for you and want to see you on a different level?”

I ignored him.

A week later, using my full name, he made it known that he had read my academic articles, something I couldn’t even convince my then girlfriend to do.

My cheeks burned as I read the text, knowing it was my own ego that had lured me into dangerous territory. I told John to call me “Mistress Natalie” but didn’t block his number.

That Christmas, he texted to say that he was in Orange County visiting his parents. When I saw his number flash on my phone, I remembered that he knew my real name and didn’t answer. He left angry voice mails, ranting about how I had stoked his obsession and left him hanging.

“Christina,” he pleaded, “don’t ruin my Christmas.”

I had been working for a few years by the time I met the woman who still sends me the inappropriate emails, but I could have counted the number of female clients I had seen on one hand. I was fine with that. Female clients were more complicated. I had a harder time separating professional from personal. I had a harder time saying “no” when they asked for my real name.

In B.D.S.M. practice, “after care” is important, so I offered hugs to every client at the end of a session. It seemed like the least I could do. With that woman, I let the hugs linger. She could count on four, five cycles of breath before I would pull away. She would take more if I let her.

After our sessions, she would text me to say that the hug was her favorite part.

The last time I saw her, she had shown up to meet me in a hotel lobby — shoeless and strung out, with no money for the session she had booked — in a city where the police were rumored to be doing prostitution stings in high-end hotels.

Professional B.D.S.M. exists in a gray area of the law: It’s not prostitution, the acceptance of money for sex, but only because sex is hard to define. I didn’t think cops running a sting operation were likely to delve into the ambiguities, and I didn’t need an erratic client getting me arrested. I had just defended my dissertation and was about to enter the academic job market. So I gave her cash to get her car out of the hotel parking lot where she had slept and vowed to never see her again.

At the time, I belonged to a sex worker self-defense collective. We spent hours each week drilling strategies to deflect touch. We practiced maneuvers meant to forcibly remove hands from the small of our backs, to break grips on our wrists. We talked about boundaries and how to set them.

It took the collective an hour to persuade me to stop engaging with this woman. After that morning in the hotel lobby, she had threatened to hurt herself if I didn’t see her again, but I had sworn that I wouldn’t.

“I can no longer have contact with you,” I wrote as my support system looked on. “I wish you the best, but you have persisted in contacting me against my wishes.”

I made a friend press “send.” I turned off my phone for 12 hours, afraid of her response. All I could think was: She knows my real name.

Either way, I still hold my breath when I open my old work inbox, bracing myself for love declarations or worse — that she could find out where I live, show up at my door and ask for another chance at a love she never had.

Fear is a weapon wielded by those who want to keep others silent, and the stigma against sex work makes it easy to scare or blackmail us. So finally, a few years ago, I came out as a sex worker. My name is no longer a secret to anyone. I didn’t come out because I am fearless. I came out because I am sometimes still afraid, and I know I’m not alone.

In general, though, I was rarely afraid of my clients, the fumbling fathers who showed me iPhone photographs of their children and dogs, the sweet-if-clueless guys who asked for my advice on their dating profiles. Even John — the Ph.D. student who used my real name — called a year later when he was again home for the holidays to apologize. “I’m a fool when it comes to feelings,” he wrote. “That’s why I acted the way I did.”

He said he was in therapy, and I agreed to see him again. He sounded sorry, I needed the money, and it was Christmas, after all.

Complete Article HERE!

What Is Ethical Porn?

— How to Jerk Off Responsibly

Watching ethically-produced porn is one of the best ways of supporting sex workers. Here’s what you should know before your next wank. 

By Laura Holliday

At first listen, the term “ethical porn” might conjure up the same kind of images as “porn for women” – overly artsy drivel that’ll have you drying up quicker than a bad Hinge voice prompt. And when you like things as wet as I do, that’s a pretty depressing thought.

“The term ethical porn, unfortunately, brings up the same connotations as corporate social responsibility,” says Cindy Gallop, founder of MakeLoveNotPorn, a user-generated adult video platform that runs on a paid subscription model. (She prefers to use the term “social sex” to describe her platform.)

But while the name might sound pretty drab, ethical porn in reality is far more exciting – and all-encompassing – than it sounds, covering everything from BDSM to blockchain-enabled porn. Here’s what you should know before diving in.

Most of us were probably first exposed to what we typically see as unethical porn back in the 2000s, when tube sites like Pornhub became the default way to consume adult content. In the same way you’d download a sketchy Limewire song that might infect your parents’ computer, you could also access porn at the click of a button without knowing how it was made or who uploaded it.

Thankfully, the continued march of the streaming era and the criminalisation of revenge porn has led to most tube sites cracking down on illegal and pirated content. It’s also meant that conversations around ethics in porn are more commonplace.

Though there are a myriad of definitions out there, ethical porn is fundamentally porn that centers on the proper treatment of sex workers. “Simply put, [it is] porn that sticks to workers’ rights,” sex educator Evie Plumb explains. “The performer’s pay, safety and treatment is put first and is fair. Consent, sexual health and credit are paramount.”

What makes ‘ethical porn’ ethical?

Deciding what makes ethical porn ethical hinges on knowing what is unethical. “There’s revenge porn or image-based sexual abuse, which is not porn, and we should be really clear that that is nonconsensual and it needs to be taken down. Let’s get it the fuck out of here,” says Lilly Sparks, founder of ethical porn site afterglow, referring to the sharing of sexual content of someone without their consent.

“Then there’s what I like to call douchebag porn, which is like the mainstream tube sites,” she adds. “They’re just run the same way as any other industry. They don’t want to do anything illegal, but they’re in it for the money. Then I think there’s ethical porn, which at its simplest level, is just people who care about the impact of the porn that they’re making.”

Ethical porn can be divided, broadly, into three main areas. It’s content produced in an environment that is safe, where everyone is of age, consenting, and happy to participate. It also fairly compensates its creators for their time and work, like any other business. The final – perhaps the most hotly debated – aspect of ethical porn is the content itself.

For many feminists, ethical porn isn’t performative – it’s inclusive and centres a diverse set of bodies by rejecting the male gaze. Plenty of ethical porn sites are founded on this principle, and many also hope to eradicate unrealistic expectations of sex by dispelling any myths or stereotypes that people might be vicariously exposed to when watching mainstream porn.

Sparks stresses that it’s important not to kinkshame, though, and to recognise that what might seem performative for one person may feel pleasurable or empowering for another. “You shouldn’t yuck someone else’s yum,” she says. “If that performer wanted to get paid 200 bucks to show that guy her feet or whatever, like, who is this other person to say that’s not ethical?”

How do you know if the porn you’re watching is ethically made?

Unfortunately, there’s no singular FDA-style regulator distributing a stamp of approval to individual companies or studios, though trade associations like the Free Speech Coalition exist to protect workers’ rights to a safe working environment. Regulation is also made more complex when some sites are simply collections of homemade content, rather than material shot on location.

Still, there are broader signs to look out that will signpost whether the porn you’re watching has been ethically produced and curated. A transparent breakdown of the verification process is key to knowing that a company ensures its performers are of age and consenting, and many will be vocal about this on their websites and social media accounts. This verification extends to those on camera and those behind it. “We require two forms of government issued ID, one of which must be visual ID,” Gallop says about videos submitted on MakeLoveNotPorn.

Directors should also highlight that they are aware of each performer’s personal experience and limits, and that actors enjoy the content they film. “I send performers a long checklist in advance, with a list of sexual acts from kissing to triple anal, where they can tell me how much experience they have with it and how much they would like to do it,” explains director and intimacy coordinator Paulita Pappel, who founded the Lustery and HardWerk studios. “On this base, I can create scenarios and concepts catering to their wishes.”

Healthy filming conditions, like regularly scheduled breaks and on-set refreshments, are also strong indicators that a production cares about the wellbeing of its workers. While these might not always be openly listed, some studios, like Pink & White Productions, operate regular paid (obviously) livestreams, where viewers are able to see how the studio operates – allowing them insight into the production process.

When it comes to user-submitted porn sites, the presence of a strong curation or moderation team is a good sign. “Our human curators watch every frame of every video submitted from beginning to end, before we approve or reject and we publish it,” Gallop says. Sites that also use highly discriminatory language in their descriptions and advertisements are also seen by many, including Plumb, as being unethical and should be avoided.

Not all of this information is instantly accessible. Sometimes, it might even require a bit of digging. But the more that you talk about ethical porn, the more companies will see the need to release clear information about their filming practices. This, in turn, might allow performers to feel more able to report any unethical or harmful practices happening in the workplace.

How to pay for ethical porn

Every single person VICE spoke to stressed that paying for porn was paramount in becoming a more ethical consumer. While consuming free “douchebag porn” isn’t as unethical as it was pre-tube crackdown, you can’t always know whether performers have been fairly paid. Paying for porn cuts out a huge amount of ambiguity. It also greatly reduces the chances of accidentally consuming pirated content, which hurts individual performers and the industry as a whole.

“In the same way you pay for going to the cinema, for your streaming platform or music, porn needs to be paid for,” Pappel says. “Consuming pirated porn is not only a copyright infringement but a means to hurt the sexual autonomy of performers. It is disrespectful and harmful.”

There are a huge variety of subscription-based ethical porn sites to choose from depending on your own tastes and kinks – we’ve listed more at the bottom of this article, and many offer free trials so you can try before you buy. If you’re interested in cutting out the middleman completely or have particular performers you’d like to see more of, you can pay for their content directly.

“Creators are likely to post and promote work that they feel proud and good about making,” says Jet Setting Jasmine, a performer, psychotherapist and founder of Royal Fetish Films. “Find a porn star you like and buy directly from them or the scenes they advertise.” Supporting individual creators isn’t just limited to buying their porn, either – you can also get their merch, buy something off their wishlist or purchase something off their affiliate links.

Is OnlyFans considered ethical porn?

It’s impossible to write about porn without mentioning OnlyFans, which has revolutionised the way we consume explicit content online. While some in the industry dislike OnlyFans due to its self-identification as a fan platform – including, of course, its failed 2021 attempt to pull out of the world of adult content – other creators, like Anne, are happy enough with their experience of the site.

Anne, who is speaking anonymously under a psudeonym to protect her privacy, has been doing online sex work since September 2022. She says that the most exploitative thing you can do is illegally rip content from someone’s OnlyFans channel or consume it through third-party sources.

“No means no,” she explains. “In all honesty, once the law catches up with the digital space, anyone who contributes to performer exploitation should be considered a sex offender.”

She’s had to send takedown requests (or DMCAs) to sites that upload their images and videos without their consent and has grappled with the negative effects of this on her mental health.

Although piracy monitoring services like Cam Model Protection tracks copyright infringement, you can make their job easier by avoiding pirated content and reporting any that you see. Never visit a site that appears to source content from creators without their direct consent, or doesn’t clearly verify or credit creators. On OnlyFans, verified creators will have a blue checkmark – they will have obtained this by submitting photos of their government issued ID and passing an age verification check.

How to broaden the type of adult content you’re consuming

Most performers and directors that VICE spoke to agreed that ethical porn usually swerves stereotyping of people of color, LGBTQIA people and people with disabilities. Ensuring that everyone feels fairly represented is critical not just for performers, but also for consumers who might pick up behavior learnt from porn through osmosis.

“When we consume porn that doesn’t have context, and doesn’t humanize the folks that are in it, we can risk normalizing this and we can see these behaviors come out in real life situations where people can be harmed,” Jasmine explains. “Unfortunately, many people learn about sex and sexual relationships through NSFW content. [We] therefore have a responsibility to increase people’s porn literacy and also increase access to content that is safe to learn from.”

If you want to broaden your porn horizons or just fancy a change, you could try another format like audio-based porn – female-founded Dipsea is an ethical, audio-focused, subscription-based app featuring erotic stories and scenarios. Voice actors for Dipsea are paid fairly for their work, with top actors reportedly earning up to $200-$400 an hour. Animated porn is another way to bypass the concern of unethical filming conditions or – but again, make sure you’re supporting artists directly, and just don’t jerk off to AI-generated porn, which is often trained on images of sexual abuse.

Support sex workers

Despite what shitty school sex education might have taught you, abstinence is never the answer. Anti-porn and sex-critical movements would like you to believe that porn should be avoided completely, but considering that porn addiction might not even be real, this is probably bullshit, and a view that further stigmatises sex workers. That stigma has real-life consequences for sex workers, too.

“We have no access to basic business necessities like bank accounts, payment processors or email marketing – private companies like Mailchimp, Paypal and others do not provide their services, which has no legal ground, and it’s therefore blatant discrimination,” Pappel explains. “If we want ‘ethical porn’, we must start as a society – and it starts with the media – to stop discriminating against the industry.”

Jasmine agrees: “Normalization of people consuming porn and participating in the porn industry will hopefully yield access to better working conditions, reduced stigma and shame, cast and crew compensation and an overall better product.”

You might still occasionally boot up a questionable streaming site to avoid getting caught on your ex’s Netflix account, but most people implicitly understand that illegal downloads hurt the creators making stuff that entertains us. The same goes for porn – we have to want ethically-made porn for more to be produced and things to radically shift. In a way, I guess you could say that getting yourself off ethically is an act of activism.

Some more of our favorite ethical porn sites: 

CHEEX is a subscription service focusing on realistic sex and erotica, well as audio content and live pleasure workshops. It features a variety of award-winning porn performers, is ad-free, and doesn’t share data with third parties. All performers are of legal age, paid fairly, and tested regularly.

Aortafilms is an award-winning porn studio focusing on queer cinema. They feature performers across a wide range of bodies and identities who are tested and checked in with regularly. Performers are also welcome to suggest edits so they are represented in a way that they agree with.

Dreams of Spanking is the go to site for anyone with this particular kink. They are a sex-positive and inclusive studio who pay their performers fairly and prioritise performer welfare and informed consent.

Complete Article HERE!

How I Get Strangers to Talk About Their Sex Lives

— I stop people on the bus, ask my cashier at CVS, or even beg my next-door neighbors.

By

My boyfriend held a cigarette in one hand and a Diet Coke in the other and said, “Are you fucking serious, Lys?” A few moments earlier, while lounging around a wicker table in his flowery backyard, I had flipped open my laptop and instructed him to tell me about all the women he’d slept with that week — or hooked up with, flirted with, even jerked off to. I told him to talk fast. My Sex Diaries column was due by EOD.

We were in an open relationship, insofar that I was pregnant via an anonymous sperm donor and he was a sexpot who could not be tamed. It was the only open relationship I’ve ever been in, and for that period of my life, it worked for me.

We banged out his diary together. I filed it. My editor had very few notes. The readers actually liked him, and all was good. It may sound strange, but I was happier producing such a vivid — and frankly, hot — diary than I was unsettled hearing about the multitudes of beautiful women my guy was going down on when I wasn’t around.

All this is to say that for the last eight years, Sex Diaries has come first. I mean, my children come first. My partner, Sam, whom I’ve been with ever since that guy, comes first. My parents and sister come first. But beyond all that, the weekly column always takes priority.

Normally, I don’t need to recruit friends or lovers for the column, but sometimes I do. The copy is due every Wednesday night — which sometimes means Thursday morning — so if I haven’t found a diarist by early in the week, I have to hustle.

Most of the time, I’m already engaging with a handful of potential diarists who’ve emailed me at sexdiaries@nymag.com with some info about themselves, hoping I’ll invite them to actually write one (which I almost always do). After that, I have to hope that they won’t flake or wind up being fraudulent or scary and that they’ll deliver something interesting, or at least coherent, for me to shape into a column. The diaries don’t pay, so there’s only so much pushing and probing I can do in good conscience. After all, no one owes me anything. In the end, about two in every five emails leads to an actual, publishable diary.

On the weeks when no one has emailed in or a diarist gets cold feet at the last minute, I stop strangers on the bus, at a local bar, or on the street — if they seem like passionate, horny, or simply authentic human beings — and ask them to sit with me for a half hour and entrust me with their stories.

“Hi. Sorry to bother you. I know this sounds ridiculous, but I write this column for New York Magazine called Sex Diaries — it’s pretty popular, honestly — where I profile someone’s love and sex life, or lack thereof, for a week. You can write it yourself, and I’ll clean it up for you. Or you can tell me everything here or later on the phone, and I’ll do the rest. We can disguise whatever you want in order for you to feel comfortable. But you have to remember that once it’s out there, I can’t take it offline, so you need to be okay with that … are you in?”

Occasionally, it works. Most people say that they have nothing remotely interesting going on — which, I’d argue, is still interesting! Other people are just too busy or private. Recently, a salesperson at CVS whom I approached thought I was hitting on him, and being a religious man and married, he was so offended and freaked out that he demanded I leave the store immediately. As I rushed out of there, pushing my son in his stroller, I actually started to cry.

Sometimes, I have to beg my neighbors, mom friends, or old high-school pals from my Facebook page to anonymously dish with me about their marriages, divorces, or affairs. And almost every week, I post something somewhere on social media, searching for random humans who will document their love and sex lives for me — for no good reason at all other than, perhaps, creative catharsis.

However it plays out, I try to make the experience as easy as possible for the diarists and to handle them with care. I make sure to protect their trust, and above all else, I never judge anything they tell me. When you tell me you’re having an affair, I will assure you that you’re not evil. When you tell me you’re hurting, I will share that I’ve been there too. When you tell me you’re weird, I will tell you that you’re cool as hell. And I will mean it all. Our relationships last only a few days and are driven by very direct questions and blind faith that we won’t lie to each other, then they’re over.

To understand my devotion to this column is to understand how it came to be mine and the freedom it has afforded me over the last eight years. In 2015, I decided to have a baby on my own for a lifetime of reasons you’ll have to buy my book to understand. I had always managed to make a decent living as a freelance writer, but at this point, there was no dependable work coming in, as I’d spent years trying to “break into Hollywood,” which wasn’t happening and slowly crushed me one disappointment after another. But I was pregnant, a marvelous thing, and I had faith that work would take care of itself somehow.

Out of the blue, an editor at The Cut asked me if I wanted to revive the column, which I had never heard of, explaining that it would be a weekly assignment with a steady paycheck. The work didn’t sound easy, but it didn’t sound hard either. Mostly, I saw the column as a gift. From New York, the media crowd, karma, or whatever. And I never stopped looking at it through that prism. Sex Diaries sustained me as I began life as a single mom. It solidified my role at The Cut, where I loved the people. And it gave me some writerly empowerment when I was feeling otherwise unwanted.

Sure, the column stresses me out sometimes. It’s a grind finding diarists every single week. I’ve only skipped two deadlines in all these years, and both were because I had preeclampsia with my pregnancies and was too out of it from the magnesium drip to resume work right away.

In the fall of 2019, we learned that HBO wanted to turn the Sex Diaries column into a docuseries, in which we’d document a week or two in someone’s sex life on film in the same spirit as we do in the column. This was fabulous news. I’d been chasing the TV scene for years, and it felt like this opportunity was another cosmic gift that I would never take for granted. But I knew that in the entertainment business, you had to fight every single day for a seat at the table. I had no reason to believe I’d be pushed out of the project, but I knew that I had to emphasize my value to the docuseries. To anybody who would listen, I said, “Let me handle the casting. You will never be able to cast this without me. No one knows how to find a Sex Diarist like I do.” Did I come across as too aggressive? Who cares! It was true.

So at 44 years old, my work life became unbelievably exciting and excruciatingly hard. My second child was still a baby, still breastfeeding, when we started casting and filming. A month later, COVID hit. Around this time, I got a book deal with a tight deadline and absolutely nowhere to write or think in peace. Politically, the world was burning down. My amazing kids, never amazing sleepers, kept us awake every single night. One of my best friends, the woman who taught me to advocate for myself, died of cancer — I cried for her all night, every night for many months. The weekly column was always due. The Zoom calls for the docuseries took up hours of my day despite the fact that no one even knew when we’d come out of this pandemic let alone feel romantic, sexual, or adventurous again.

Like all working moms, I was tired. But I had to cast this series, as promised. I revisited thousands of diarists I’d worked with throughout the years and asked if they’d be open to doing a diary without any anonymity and with cameras following them. Of course, the response was often “um, yeah, no.” I frantically called friends of friends who had cousins with roommates who were polyamorous, slut-positive, or simply lovestruck. I roamed the city, double-masked and desperate, sleuthing around for anybody who might be interested in talking about the sex they weren’t having with the lovers they weren’t seeing and the lives they weren’t living. I must have slipped into a thousand random DM’s per day, hunting for anybody who would indulge me. Instagram kept blocking my account, which would last only a few hours, thank God. I tracked down New Yorkers who belonged to sex clubs, posted provocative hashtags, or showed any sign that they were creative souls or open books. Our dream was for the cast to mirror an NYC subway car in terms of diversity. Eventually, with the help of the show’s amazing director and producers, we found our stars. Eight New Yorkers agreed to let us film their sex lives. None of them needed any convincing. They were all born for this moment. I did nothing, and they did everything.

Every week for what feels like forever, I’ve buckled down to “do a Sex Diary.” And because of that continuity — the ritual of it all — the column has unintentionally grounded me through the good and the bad. My tears are in those diaries. My hormones are in those diaries. A miscarriage is in those diaries. My childbirths are in those diaries. When I met Sam, my love, I was on deadline. When Biden won or our kids had COVID or we closed on our first house, I always had a diary to tend to.

My diarists have ranged from artists to engineers, sex workers, CEOs, and soccer moms, but they’ve all shared part of their lives with me, and through them, I’ve been afforded a healthy and effervescent work life that defies the drudgery of almost every other job I can imagine. To my mistresses, fuckboys, cougars, pillow princesses, and everyone in between, thank you. And to anyone curious about the column, email me, please.

Complete Article HERE!

Student Sex Workers Exist.

Denying That Won’t Make Them Go Away

By Cerys Turner

“If you don’t like the idea of students having to sell sex, we have a suggestion for you! Fight for cheaper rents, the return of grants, and higher minimum wage. But to attack services aimed at student sex workers is profoundly dangerous.”

These are the thoughts, voiced on Twitter, of SWARM (a grassroots, sex worker-led collective fighting the criminalisation of sex work and supporting sex workers) following the controversy surrounding Durham University students’ union’s safety training for students involved in the sex industry. The training provides support, advice and event collaborations for pupils already employed in sex work. The Times reported that Michelle Donelan, the minister for higher and further education, said Durham was “legitimising a dangerous industry”. On the political left, the Labour MP for Hackney, Diane Abbott, also voiced her concern, describing the safety training as “horrific”.

“Services and support for student sex workers do not ‘encourage’ students into sex work,” continued SWARM on the Twitter thread. “Students sell sex and sexual services because of the high cost of living (in particular, high rents), low wages in other forms of work (eg hospitality), and a lack of grants & other forms of financial assistance.”

As Refinery29 reported earlier this year, students are turning to sex work due to financial pressure. The high cost of living in the UK has always been a major factor in sex work but with average student rents across the country having increased by almost 20% since 2020, student sex workers have been hit particularly hard. In 2016 the National Union of Students (NUS) ran a survey with student sex workers and discovered that less than 15% of respondents believed their institution or students’ union was providing sufficient support for their line of work. Meanwhile 53% of respondents wanted more information on sexual health and 51% on financial help.

Sex work has long been a point of contention in British society. It’s taken decades of hard work by those employed in the industry and their allies for prostitution even to be considered a legitimate job. Whenever the subject comes up, there is considerable moral panic. However, as recently as 2019, high profile institutions such as the Royal College of Nursing (RCN) have called for sex work to be decriminalised. The RCN’s appeal was based on the notion that the current law puts sex workers’ health in danger by deterring them from seeking medical help from the NHS due to the risk of prosecution.

Student sex workers are a fact of modern life. To deny them support in higher education is a grave mistake with real world implications for the students I represent.

Jonah Graham, Durham Students’ union

Ultimately, the tension underpinning conversations about student sex work lies between those who reinforce the stigma surrounding sex work and those who want to support sex workers. What gets lost in that debate are the very real economic conditions which push some people into sex work. If we could focus on supporting sex workers and, at the same time, address those conditions then we might actually get somewhere.

Soliciting sex – offering money for sexual services – in public may be illegal but legal forms of sex work have evolved since the most recent Sexual Offences Act was passed in 2003. For instance, the internet subscription service OnlyFans has become the latest platform for sex workers to profit from producing adult content.

What exactly constitutes sex work in 2021? According to Open Society Foundations, sex workers are adults who receive money or goods in exchange for consensual sexual services or erotic performances. These can come in many forms, including but not limited to stripping, webcamming, dancing and pornography.

However you slice it and whether you like it or not, sex work happens. And the face of sex work in the UK – and the people behind it – isn’t uniform. It is not always a negative experience or a choice made out of desperation, as the TikTok videos about becoming a sugar baby, which receive millions of views, attest. It is also true that for some sex workers, it is a financial means to an end.

You might not like the fact that something exists but that won’t make it disappear. In any case, regardless of a person’s reasons for undertaking sex work, do we not have a duty, as a society, to protect them?

Durham SU has been making headlines for providing exactly that sort of support, educating student sex workers on their rights, their safety and the potential risks of the industry. Jonah Graham, Durham SU’s welfare and liberation officer, highlighted the importance of raising awareness of students employed in sex work. “We agree that ‘it is right that vital support to women is offered’, which is why the training was created. The training’s target audience is those who support students, so they understand the legal, safety, and wellbeing concerns of students and how to respond to disclosures sensitively.

“Student sex workers are a fact of modern life,” he continued in a statement in response to the backlash from Donelan. “To deny them support in higher education is a grave mistake with real world implications for the students I represent.”

Denying the needs of student sex workers does not eliminate their existence. While Donelan highlighted the £85 million universities received last year to support financially struggling students, economic issues run far deeper than a one-off payment can resolve. In a 2020 survey by Save The Student, 56.9% of student sex workers reported that funding their education was one of the main reasons they went into sex work, while almost half (45.1%) also said it was to avoid getting into debt.

Even though the government provides hardship funds for those struggling financially, many students aren’t aware of the cash. Tom Allingham from Save The Student tells Refinery29: “Forty-three percent of students feel as though they haven’t received enough information about the funding that could be available to them.”

56.9% of student sex workers report that funding their education was one of the main reasons they went into sex work. 

However, the biggest issue, Allingham notes, is the “ever-increasing gap between the money students receive from the government and how much they actually need to spend on essentials like rent, food and bills”. Save The Student’s latest survey revealed that the average maintenance loan is £340 less than students’ living costs each month.

This is happening against the backdrop of a 7% increase over 2021 in the UK Student Living Index – an index run by NatWest which calculates the most expensive university towns and cities across the UK – meaning the average cost of living is far higher than the previous year.

“The government urgently needs to increase the funding available to students to ensure that nobody feels pressured into making money in ways that they’re not comfortable with,” Allingham continues.

Rosie Hodsdon, an executive assistant at National Ugly Mugs (NUM), an organisation that provides resources and protection for sex workers, also recognises the need to target the economic factors that lead students into sex work.

“Student loans are awful. Students are expected to find employment that fits around other commitments, do university work, as well as caring responsibilities people might have, while also paying enough for them to live on and poor working conditions as well,” she tells Refinery29.

“The vast majority of student sex work takes place in response to those conditions, and we must understand that those conditions exist,” she continues. “If you have this idea that sex work should be stopped and eradicated, you need to deal with the conditions that encourage students into sex work. You cannot take away support for those who are doing it simply because you don’t believe that it should exist.

As Hodson sees it, universities should support students engaged in sex work on a duty-of-care basis. “If you want to stop someone doing sex work, don’t take away their studentship – that’s just going to make them do more sex work,” she continued.

Hodson also emphasised how universities and students’ unions should be pushing for student landlords to remove morality clauses from their contracts. These are lines in agreements which stipulate that a student can be expelled or evicted if found to be engaged in sex work. “Those can lead to student sex workers losing accommodation and becoming homeless, which will encourage more people into sex work,” she added.

The most important thing, however, is simply encouraging an understanding of the realities of student sex work and actively engaging with those employed in the industry. As ever, this is about listening to sex workers instead of talking about them.

“There are resources out there that are written by student sex workers, for universities, that have been designed in collaboration with student sex workers, about what they need, what resources are out there,” Hodson concluded. “How can you treat them better? By actively engaging with them and respecting their voices, their experiences and actively being on their side. That’s going to massively change the culture of hopefully universities as a whole with regards to student sex work.”

Durham isn’t the first university to advocate for better support for student sex workers. Leicester University provides a toolkit for student sex workers while the University of Sussex freshers’ fair hosted stalls by the Sex Workers’ Outreach Project Sussex. Normalising this line of work needn’t be radical. Just as schemes such as The Loop have opened up a more accepting dialogue around drug use, acknowledging sex work – and, more importantly, tackling the stigma that it is a problem at all – has gone far further in supporting students employed in sex work than avoiding their existence altogether.

The Department of Education told Refinery29: “Universities should provide an inclusive environment for all students. This is a matter for providers and we expect them to support any student who may be involved in potentially harmful situations.”

“However, the government is concerned that sex work training could enable, normalise and encourage sex work and the exploitation of mainly female students. We consider more effective action could be taken to support students in such situations. Students in hardship should be helped by their provider, and more generally providers should be supporting the wellbeing and mental health of students who are vulnerable.”

“If a student is experiencing hardship, their provider should make all efforts to identify how they can support the student and prevent the student from being involved in potentially harmful situations as a consequence.”

Complete Article HERE!

Sex Workers’ Voices

— 10 Books About Sex Work by Sex Workers

By

Sex work is a controversial topic even in the most liberal circles. The conversation can vary from ethics, to feminism, to the law, and more. Issues of stigma and criminalization are the realities of sex workers all around the world. Furthermore, sex workers are often queer people and people of colour and thus face overlapping oppression.

Having discussions about the realities of sex work is extremely important in order to destigmatize it. If you are interested in feminism and sexuality, or you participate in the world of the sex industry, I can recommend any of these books. The best way to begin the conversation around sex work is to listen to the workers speak.

Coming Out Like A Porn Star: Essays On Pornography, Protection, and Privacy Edited by Jiz Lee

The concept of “coming out” is not unfamiliar to anybody who identifies as LGBTQ+, but what about other types of coming out? What else can you come out as? In this unique anthology, genderqueer performer Jiz Lee introduces us to a collection of 50+ essays written by porn stars. These essays detail their coming out stories, from hilarious to heartbreaking. This anthology includes famous porn stars and new porn stars, as well as people across the gender and sexuality spectrum, and many voices of people of colour. Coming out is never easy, and it seems nearly everyone has a story to tell.

hustling verse: an anthology of sex worker poetry cover

Hustling Verse Edited by Amber Dawn and Justin Ducharme

Amber Dawn and Justin Ducharme bring us a different sex worker anthology, this time it is all poetry! Hustling Verse explores various styles of poetry and storytelling. The featured poetry covers topics including sexuality, relationships, and trauma. Contributions come from sex workers from all walks of life and across North America, Asia, and Europe. Additionally, the cover art is by Exotic Cancer, an Aussie sex worker and illustrator.

revolting prostitutes cover

Revolting Prostitutes by Juno Mac and Molly Smith

In this book, Juno Mac and Molly Smith guide the reader through the sex worker rights movement. Revolting Prostitutes explores how the law harms sex workers and what they want instead. The questions of the law and how to support sex worker rights are situated in a discussion of white supremacy, migration, and feminism. In essence, this book advocates for the complete decriminalization of sex work all over the world.

Whip Smart: The True Story of a Secret Life by Melissa Febos

Melissa Febos’s book covers her transformation from a college student into being a professional dominatrix. Whip Smart explores a deeply personal story; when Febos breaks the boundaries she set for herself, she finds herself in a precarious situation. Febos delves into issues of power, sexuality, and dangerous truths in this intimate memoir.

how poetry saved my life cover

How Poetry Saved My Life: A Hustler’s Memoir by Amber Dawn

Written in 2013 by one of the editors of Hustling Verse, this memoir is about how writing became the author’s lifeline. Through prose and poetry, Amber Dawn reveals the story of her life hustling the streets of Vancouver. In addition to Dawn’s experience as a sex worker, How Poetry Saved My Life navigates the personal terrain of sexuality, queer identity, and survivor pride. Above all, this memoir is about a love of poetry and literature and the transformative power of these arts.

thriving in sex work cover

Thriving in Sex Work by Lola Davina

Coming at sex work from a place of self-preservation and self care, Lola Davina brings us Thriving In Sex Work. Davina challenges the perception that sex work is “easy money” and addresses the pitfalls. This book navigates how sex work relates to friendships, money and life. In addition to the day-to-day, Davina delves into broader topics as well. Thriving in Sex Work explores sex work myths, how to survive emotional burnout, and how to cultivate a healthy body and mind. However, that’s barely scraping the surface.

Davina has two other companion books for this wonderful guide: The Thriving in Sex Work Workbook and Thriving in Sex Work: Sex Work and Money.

Playing the Whore by Melissa Gira Grant

Grounding her book in her ten years of experience as an activist, organizer and sex worker, Melissa Gira Grant takes on major issues in the sex industry. In a short 150 pages, Grant critiques the policing of sex workers, the conditions of the industry, and the ongoing discussions surrounding how we see the sex industry as well as the sex workers themselves. Grant hits the major points of these huge topics and takes a powerful stance on the rights of sex workers.

Insatiable: Porn – A Love Story by Asa Akira

In this memoir, Asa Akira recounts her life as a stripper, dominatrix, and one of the most hardworking and extreme porn stars in the business. In addition to her over 300+ films, she has won many awards for her work. This memoir was named after her best-selling series, Asa Akira is Insatiable. Doubling as a personal memoir and a commentary on the industry, Akira shares her perspective on sex as a part of our lives and culture. In short, Akira’s memoir is shameless, passionate, funny and endearing.

striptastic a celebration of dope-ass cunts who like to make money

Striptastic by Jacqueline France

This coffee table book is educational, funny, and tongue-in-cheek. A celebration of femininity and shamelessness, Striptastic! contains illustrations and interviews collected from 300 sex workers around the world. This book is an unapologetic and entertaining journey through the day and night lives of strippers.

to live freely in this world sex worker activism in africa book cover

To Live Freely in this World by Chi Adanna Mgbako

Chi Adanna Mgbako is the first to fully tell the story of the people at the heart of the sex worker activism movement in Africa. Activists from Kenya to Nigeria to South Africa are challenging anti-prostitution movements as well as taking on issues that affect the trans, queer, and HIV-positive members of their community. Mgbako gathered stories and testimonies from hundreds of sex workers participating in the movement. Her work has helped to fill in the blanks in studies of sex work and African feminism.

The discussions around sex work are ongoing. It is a complicated and taboo subject. As with any difficult topic, educating yourself and listening is one of the best ways to engage in controversial subject matter.

Complete Article HERE!

Meet the Couple Fighting Porn’s Race Problem

By

Whether we’re talking about its reliance on fetishization, the overt pay discrepancies or the fact that it’s always been a predominantly white space, it’s no secret that porn has a race problem. But after 20 years of shared experience as performers, educators and master fetish trainers, Jet-Setting Jasmine and King Noire are trying to instigate change with their award-winning adult production company, Royal Fetish Films — and it’s a masterclass in leading by example.

Since its inception, Royal Fetish has challenged industry norms by demonstrating what a more inclusive, ethical and safe space for BIPOC performers actually looks like. And it all began about 10 years ago, after the real-life couple — who you may also recognize from their @sexpositiveparenting Instagram — started hosting their Fantasy Flight fetish parties. Primarily attended by Black women, it didn’t take long for Jasmine and King to start hearing about how their attendees didn’t “feel good watching” the Black porn that was currently available. So as a result, the pair began making work that was more about being “able to show people of color in a way that most porn does not.”

“[In other porn productions], they’re making us work… They’re not showing a romantic scene where it’s not only about the hardest fucking you’ve ever seen,” King said, before Jasmine went on to say that Royal Fetish tries to give people a more holistic, realistic view of BIPOC sex.

Royal Fetish’s productions tend to focus more on passion and foreplay, all while showcasing sex that isn’t hinged on harmful stereotypes or pigeonholing. And sometimes achieving this is as simple as just letting people be themselves — whether that means allowing models to speak normally or encouraging Black performers to incorporate things that “highlight our culture, like waist beads or headwraps or ankhs.”

“We would never tell [a performer] like, ‘Hey, the jewelry you’re wearing is too cultural. Please leave that out,'” King added. “We also don’t ask people to speak in a way that they wouldn’t naturally speak. For example, we were talking to a performer that’s Asian and they were telling her to not speak clear English. We’re not here to try and sell a caricature. We’re here to actually show people having the sex that they enjoy, but showing how beautiful it is at the same time.”

After all, these kinds of issues were things that King had to experience firsthand as a former performer. And so, by the time the couple had started the Fantasy Flight series, he had already left the industry because his “overall experience from porn wasn’t great,” especially as someone with a background in activism.

“Fetishized porn has made the porn industry be able to fix itself after losing all the money they lost.”

“Since I had been in the porn industry, people were asking me all the time, ‘What was that experience like?,’ especially since I know the history of our people,” King said. “And I was like, ‘Yeah, that’s why I couldn’t really fuck with it.’ There was so much racism going on.”

These racialized fetishes have roots in colonization and are predicated upon “the oppressor always romanticizing and fetishizing the oppressed” — something that’s evident through the continued hypersexualization of Black women or the “big Black cock” fetish in porn. Because as King explained, these particular ideas have roots in the slave auction when white people “would try and choose men with the largest penis, because they felt they would breed the best, or Black women with their hips.” However, the only difference now is that “white people can’t just say that anymore out in the open.”

“They can’t be like, ‘I think Black people are more sexual because of X, Y and Z. So instead, they find it in their porn,” King said. “Or, they think it would be hot to have sex with a woman in a burqa, because they’re told, ‘These people are bad and wrong, and they don’t have sex.’ So as an American conqueror, I want to have sex with a woman in a burqa.”

He continued, “A lot of these really extreme racialized fetishes are a white person conquering these other people sexually. They’re never like, ‘I love Black people because of their ability to overcome obstacles.’ It’s always like, ‘No, I want to fuck Black people, because they have this body part. Or, I want to fuck Asian people, because I think they’re subservient to white people. It’s always that conquering involved in it.”

But in terms of porn’s continued perpetuation of these fetishes, King went on to say that a lot of it can be chalked up to the industry itself cashing in on this content as a way to recoup the losses they incurred from the shift to online.

“You look at porn over the last 10 years, what has been the biggest shit? Interracial, BBC. Right? Latino, Asian,” he said. “Fetishized porn has made the porn industry be able to fix itself after losing all the money they lost from still trying to have craft services and make VHS tapes. But how did porn catch up? Through the fetishization of people of color and Black bodies.”

“You do need to take the time and talk and ask and reassure and check in. Because we have been an abused people, and continue to be.”

Granted, the duo said that the issue likely won’t go away until there is a wider cultural shift toward addressing sex workers and porn. After all, as Jasmine went on to explain, despite porn and sex workers being “everybody’s guilty pleasure,” the puritanical mores that prevent us from admitting to these dirty little secrets mean that we are never forced to face the idea that we may have “this nasty fetish or this dehumanizing idea in this little pocket of my life.”

“No one wants to talk, fix or improve the guilty pleasure. It’s a guilty pleasure for a reason, right? And in order for me to fit in and improve, it would mean that I have to fix and improve the issue that I have within myself,” she said. “But that’s exactly where it stops. With like, ‘Oh, god, this is horrible. But who do I tell about it, because if I tell someone about it, then they know I watch it.’ Or, they’re talking about fetishization, and ‘I wouldn’t like that and I don’t want them to take that away from me. So I’m just gonna silence that. I’m not gonna talk about that.'”

In the meantime though, they said that diversifying porn companies and urging them to have deeper conversations about racial issues are essential steps toward fixing this problem — especially amidst the long-overdue conversations spurred by the Black Lives Matter movement. As King said, “Do you know how much racist shit would be avoided if you had a Black person that worked in your office that could tell you, ‘Nah dude, that’s a bad fucking idea?'”

“A lot of these companies are like, ‘Oh, shit, we’re not racist. We posted Black Lives Matter and now we’re good.’ Meanwhile, the name of their company is Blacked and it’s saying that fucking Black people makes you somehow ‘tainted.’ Or you’re Dog Fart and you’ve been making the most racist shit ever for the last 10 years. Or you’re BangBros who owns Black Patrol,” he added.

“You’re not understanding the ramifications of what you’re putting out there,” he said. “You’re trying to capitalize on it, so a lot of these companies are not trying to get any better. They’re hoping that this will blow over. Or they’ll just want to pick up the group of people that are still racist, that are still looking to buy racist ass porn. And they know that because of the lack of opportunity for Black people in our industry, there’s always going to be somebody who needs to pay the rent or needs to eat, so they’re willing to take a fucked up scene.”

Like other forms of media, Jasmine — who also has a background in psychotherapy with an emphasis on intimacy and post-intimacy trauma — said that ensuring there’s also representation behind the camera will go a long way in terms of creating a safe space with a level of cultural sensitivity toward BIPOC talent, particularly Black performers.

“I do think that there is some value in understanding generational trauma when it comes to people of color, and sex and sexuality. I think sometimes a lot is not understood about the nuances of our sex with pacing, for example,” she said, adding that while some other porn production companies may have good intentions, “understanding the needs of the population that they want to shoot with” is equally as important.

“There is a high turnover rate for people in industry, especially for Black and brown performers because of that pigeon hole that we get placed in.”

“[Especially when productions are rushed], things are not taken into consideration. Like, the type of care our people need. Or why something may take a little longer for somebody who comes from a history of being objectified. That they might need to get into a safe space,” Jasmine continued.

“And I’m not saying you have to take a long history lesson, or do a long Black history lesson to shoot Black people, but you do need to take the time and talk and ask and reassure and check in. Because we have been an abused people, and continue to be. That level of cultural sensitivity I think is missing,” she said.

At the end of the day though, these are all things that Royal Fetish are trying to address — and they’re doing so by leading through example. And the next step? A documentary porn film about a recent all-women production helmed by Jasmine, which will give insight into how exactly they construct a scene with the tenets of consent, passion and kink in mind. And in line with this ethos of visibility, Jasmine and King are also in the process of making an animated video called “Poly Sutra,” in which you’re able to see “Black and Brown bodies enjoying kink in its fullest expression.”

According to Jasmine, they’re also currently developing a new mentorship program dedicated to helping “create longevity in the porn industry for Black and brown performers,” in an effort to help keep BIPOC creatives within adult.

“There is a high turnover rate for people in industry, especially for Black and brown performers because of that pigeon hole that we get placed in. And you can only deal with that for so long, especially at the expense of your body and emotional labor. The expense of the sacrifice you make from your friends, your family and all of the things that come with this stigmatization [of sex work],” she explained, as she detailed the wide set of skills many people don’t necessarily know that they have.

After all, while performers do everything from marketing to accounting themselves, it’s also about knowing that your career in porn “doesn’t have to stop when you are ready to stop shooting.”

“But because it’s a highly stigmatized industry, you really can’t take that information and cross transfer it,” Jasmine said. “So our work will be really helping [BIPOC] people explore other other ways of creating a sustainable career in porn.”

Complete Article HERE!

What It’s Like to Break Up With a Sex Work Client You Fell For

“I was happy to pursue a flirty friendship with someone who I thought could be much more to me than just someone who paid for nudes.”

by Sofia Barrett-Ibarria

Like any other job, sex work can be exciting, dynamic, and stimulating—and deeply frustrating, disheartening, and painfully boring. It differs, though, in that it’s often based on intimately personal interactions. Work closely with enough people, and there’s a high probability of hitting it off, on some level, with a few clients.

These intimate bonds are one of the joys of sex work, but they can also be tricky. Sex workers often enforce strict boundaries for their own safety, and while finding a personal connection with a trusted client can feel refreshing, this can still be professionally and emotionally risky. Getting too close can blur the line between paid companion and personal friend, and, in rare cases, a transactional relationship can start to feel like something more. But work is work, and navigating this ambiguous emotional territory with a client can become too complicated, or too painful, to continue. When things get too personal, it may be time to say goodbye—which can come with complex feelings.

I was streaming a live cam show when I first met Jamie, whose name has been changed to protect his privacy. After throwing me some generous tips in my public chat, he requested a private cam-to-cam show. The slightly upward angle of his webcam wasn’t the most flattering, but, even hunched over his computer and stroking his penis, he was undeniably hot.

Jamie sent me a message immediately after the session concluded to thank me, then bought a custom video and several nude photos. He asked to see me again soon for a longer video session. I was thrilled: I’d not only locked down an exceptionally sweet, respectful new regular who tipped well, but one I felt instant chemistry with. We sexted nonstop for the next few days—and also talked about our favorite horror movies and podcasts, even sharing our experiences as survivors of sexual assault. Interacting with my regulars was part of the job, and it always felt like a job, but talking to Jamie was different. I was completely infatuated.

According to Jamie’s Twitter profile, he lived in another state, and I knew he had a young kid and a serious girlfriend, so the chances of ever meeting my new crush in person were slim. Still, I was happy to pursue a flirty friendship with someone who, under different circumstances, I thought could be much more to me than just someone who paid for nudes.

After a few weeks, my conversations with Jamie became sporadic. He’d occasionally resurface to tell me he missed me, pop into my chatroom and call me his favorite girl, or ask for a phone call just to hear my voice. After a few weeks when I sent him several unanswered messages, I stopped pursuing him. Our “breakup” was more of a slow, painful fade-out, but I was still hurt and embarrassed that I’d let myself develop a crush on a guy from my chatroom when I was supposed to be doing my job. I wanted to get paid, and I also really wanted him to like me.

I miss our conversations and the filthy sexts that made me blush, though now that Jamie no longer visits my chatroom, I miss his money more.

Hara Lim, a sex worker in Long Beach, California who recently ended an eight-year relationship with her sugar daddy, said some sex workers she knows refuse to offer “girlfriend experience” or similar services that might offer clients the opportunity to get too close. “Sex work can be a lot of intimacy, and you spend so much time with these johns,” Lim said. She believes anyone who performs this kind of intimate work could potentially develop genuine feelings for their client, regardless of their experience level.

“Relationships sex workers form with clients can be genuine, but the money is always the bottom line, said Luna Luz, an artist and sex worker based in Pittsburgh. Luz said that when she or clients start to feel confused about that, it’s time to say goodbye, but admitted, “It’s a little bit trickier when you build a genuine fondness and a real bond with them.” She was new to phone sex when she became close with one of her first callers. “Being able to just have pleasant conversations with someone while getting paid was amazing,” Luz said. “Between conversations about his particular fetish, we would just recount our everyday lives to each other,” Luz said.

After about a month, Luz’s client worried about how much he spent on their calls. “He offered to call only about his fetish, and that any other conversation could be through Twitter,” she said. As much as Luz enjoyed talking to him, she wasn’t sure if she could afford to keep chatting outside of her paid line. “I made it very clear that, even if the emotional labor is pleasant, it’s still labor that must be paid for,” Luz said. “I could sense his sadness about it, but he understood.” The next day, his profile was gone. “Because it was my first time experiencing this with a client that I built a genuine fondness for, it did sting sort of like a breakup, or the end of a friendship. I had to get used to not having that interaction with him every day,” said Luz. “[But] the longer I’ve been in sex work, the easier it gets to accept that these sorts of relationships eventually come to an end.”

Beyond mutual camaraderie, genuinely romantic feelings can blur professional lines for both sex workers and their clients. Twenty-nine-year-old cam model and professional dominatrix Julia Ryan was 19 and fairly new to sex work when a madame friend introduced her to a client who was attractive, successful, and generous. “He lived in Texas, so he would come out to see me in Tennessee four to five times a month,” Ryan said. “He always took me to the most amazing restaurants and bought me gifts.” Ryan fell hard. “The sex was out of this world—I was gaga over him. He made me feel so special, and even talked about marriage.”

Ryan believed he loved her, but she couldn’t shake the suspicion that he was too good to be true. During one of their last dates, the client stopped to make a quick run into a store, leaving Ryan alone in his car. She dug into the glove compartment, where she found insurance paperwork with another woman’s name on it. “I Googled her later and found all her social media and her business stuff,” said Ryan. “He led me to think he was single and just worked a lot, and hid the fact that he had a full-blown family.” Ryan was furious and hurt. “I confronted him and slapped him across the face. I was so mad, I ripped up the envelope of money he gave me that final night.” The client didn’t argue with her or try to defend his behavior, and after he walked away, they never spoke again. “I blocked him on everything—total ghost mode,” said Ryan. Despite how hurt she felt, she still remembers their relationship somewhat fondly: “He was the first guy to ever make me squirt across the room,” she said.

As in my case, losing a favorite client can be more bittersweet than explosive. Lorence Vennes, a sex worker in Vancouver, was both happy and heartbroken when one client decided it was time to move on. “When we first met, he was shy and reserved. It made me weak in the knees,” she said. “I related to that shyness.” Over time, Vennes’s client started feeling more comfortable around her, and their conversations became personal. “I really began to enjoy being by his side. I remember us cheering each other on in our goals,” Vennes said. “He was an amazing cook. He often gave me extra homemade jams and jellies he made, while telling me about these free online university courses he listened to while preparing them.”

After a few years, Vennes was surprised when her client said they needed to have a serious, strictly platonic talk. “My palms immediately got sweaty,” she said. The client said he could no longer see Vennes, because, thanks to her, he’d met someone. “He explained that during the talks he and I shared over the years, he had gained the confidence to date and ask for what he wanted in a relationship. He had met a partner to share that journey with. It was beautiful to see him take that leap of faith.” Vennes and her client no longer keep in touch, but she cherishes the time they spent together. “I still think of him and smile, and I wish him the best,” Vennes said. “A heartbreak can sometimes be unexpectedly sweet.”

Complete Article HERE!

‘A human need’

Disability groups say people on NDIS should have access to sex workers

By Judith Ireland

Disabled Australians should be able to access sex toys, dating support and sex workers under the National Disability Insurance Scheme if they require them to live a normal life, a coalition of disability advocates says.

Four of Australia’s major disability groups argue the NDIS needs a “sexuality policy” to cover a broad range of needs such as adaptive sex toys, services from sex workers and sex therapists – as well as education about sexuality and relationships.

But the National Disability Insurance Agency, which administers the NDIS, says the scheme does not cover sexual services or therapies as part of its assistance to disabled Australians.

The agency recently launched an appeal against a tribunal decision that granted a severely disabled women access to a sex therapist under her NDIS plan.

People with Disability Australia spokesperson Matthew Bowden said it was a “human need” for people to be able to express their sexuality and have fulfilling sexual experiences, urging the government to show a “compassionate approach to a private and sensitive issue”.

In a new position statement, Disabled People’s Organisations Australia says disabled people date, have casual partners, marry and enjoy loving relationships like others in the community.

“Historically, people with disability have been subjected to societal beliefs that we are either asexual or hypersexual, while constantly being denied full autonomy over our own bodies,” says the alliance, which include organisations that represent women, Indigenous and multicultural Australians.

“While accessing services of a sex worker may not be for everyone, this option should not be denied or dismissed on the basis of disability, or the moral beliefs of third parties.”

Disability advocates stress that access to sexuality supports – particularly sex workers – would be considered on a case-by-case basis, and involve significant disability. For example, this might include someone with severe cerebral palsy who could not reach their own genitals.

Saul Ibister, president of Touching Base, an organisation that has been helping disabled people access sex workers for 20 years, said sexual expression was part of an ordinary life.

“The community does not expect people with disability to live the life of a nun,” he said.

In July, the Administrative Appeals Tribunal found the provision of a sex therapist was a “reasonable and necessary” support under the NDIS for a woman with multiple sclerosis.

The woman is in her 40s and was diagnosed with MS about 16 years ago. She finds it difficult to walk but has no loss of intellectual capacity.

The NDIA originally refused the woman’s request for “sexual release” but the AAT found in her favour. The government almost immediately announced it would challenge that decision, and an appeal has been lodged with the Federal Court.

Sex therapists do not touch clients but focus on issues such as how to adapt sexual activity to a disability.

An NDIA spokesperson said: “The NDIS does not cover sexual services, sexual therapy or sex workers in a participant’s NDIS plan.

“The NDIS can fund supports to enable [people] to participate in the activities they choose; however, the NDIS does not fund the private activity itself and does not generally fund the cost of private activities.”

Complete Article HERE!

When Sex Workers Do the Labor of Therapists

BY Carrie Weisman

Sky is a professional escort. She’s been working at Sheri’s Ranch, a legal brothel located in Pahrump, Nevada, for a little under a year. A few months back, a man came in asking for a group session with Sky, who prefers to be identified by her professional name, and one of her colleagues. He had come around a few times before. He made it a point to keep in touch through Twitter. This time, however, the session took a dark turn. He came in to tell them he was planning on killing himself.

“We see a lot of clients who have mental health issues,” she tells In These Times. Though, this experience was markedly more dramatic than her usual run in with clients who going through a depressive episode. She and her colleague were eventually able to talk the guy down. They sent him home with a list full of resources that specialize in matters of depression. They asked that he continue to check in with them through social media. 

Research suggests that upwards of 6 million men are affected by depression every year. Suicide remains the seventh leading cause of death among men in America. While it’s impossible to gauge exactly what percentage of that demographic frequents sex workers, the experiences of those in the field can offer some insight. During Sky’s last tour at the Ranch, she scheduled about seven appointments. Out of those bookings, only one involved sex. “We do a lot of companionship and intimacy parties,” she says. “The clients who sign up for those bookings are the ones struggling with loneliness.” 

And people with depression aren’t the only neurodivergent individuals sex workers encounter on the job. Those suffering from anxiety, a common accompaniment to depression, show up frequently. They also see a lot of people who fall on the autistic spectrum. In fact, Sky says she sees men who fall into the latter demographic relatively often. 

Sky first got her start in the industry working as a professional dominatrix. While she has since pivoted her position in the industry, she’s found ways to incorporate that expertise into life at the brothel. Sure, she offers standard escort services, but she also books sessions dedicated to BDSM, an acronym that can be broken down into three sub categories: Bondage/Discipline, Dominance/Submission and Sadism/Masochism. Each dynamic refers to a specific form impact play that participants can find deeply pleasurable. That kind of tactile experience, she suspects, might offer a certain special appeal to men with autistic spectrum disorder (ASD). And she might be right.

Among the many symptoms of those diagnosed with ASD is a resistance to physical contact. According to the CDC, early signs of the disorder may present in the form of an aversion to touch. At the same time, touch is an important sensation to experience. A lack thereof can lead to loneliness, depression and even a more secondary immune system. Researchers have determined that therapies designed to nurture regular sensory integration can help in this regard. 

Goddess Aviva, who also prefers to be referred to by her professional name, is a lifestyle and professional dominatrix based in New York City. Like Sky, she sees a good amount of clients with autism spectrum disorder (ASD), and also men dealing with depression and anxiety. She takes certain measures to screen clients. After all, violence against sex workers is an ongoing issue in the United States, and the wavering legality of the trade doesn’t exactly help combat the issue. In the wake of new federal legislation that has largely kicked sex workers offline, and with them, the ability to vet clients from afar, sex workers must be more vigilant than ever about whom they decide to take on. The clients who are neurodivergent or live with mental health conditions don’t seem to be the ones sex workers are worried about.

“You don’t have to be diagnosed with a mental illness to be a shitty person, and some of my clients who do deal with mental illness are wonderful, kind people with good intentions,” says Aviva. “I’ve never felt unsafe with a client that makes it all the way to a session. What matters most to me is that someone is respecting my boundaries, time and protocol.”

Sky, too, has encountered a number of undesirable clients throughout her career in the industry. But, similar to Aviva, these experiences don’t seem to be driven by those suffering from mental health or neurodivergent conditions. “My most uncomfortable moments in the industry have always come from men who would be told by a professional that they were completely sane,” she explains.

Fortunately, for Sky, it’s much easier to weed out problematic clients in places where prostitution is legal. According to her, the brothel has a security team monitoring the property. She also says there’s a sophisticated screening mechanism in place. Before booking a session, all clients have to provide ID and agree to an intimate screening to rule out immediate potential health risks. These aren’t typically privileges those operating independently have access to.

Throughout her career, Sky has encountered clients who have been pointed to the brothel by concerned friends, or family. She even knows of a few who have come by at the suggestion of a therapist. Though, not all mental health professionals would advise that kind of thing.

“Certainly, there are individuals that struggle with social anxiety, which prevents them from finding a real-life partner, and in those cases engaging with a sex worker can be both therapeutic and pleasurable,” says Dr. Michael Aaron, a sex therapist, writer and speaker based in New York City. “But the best option for a therapist that is looking to provide a patient with real-life experience is to seek out surrogates, who are trained and certified by the International Professional Surrogates Association.” The organization he’s referring too, also known as IPSA, operates around a triangular model of therapy involving a patient, a surrogate and a trained therapist. Together, the three work to improve the patient’s capacity for emotional physical intimacy through a series of structured, sexual experiences. The legal status of the practice is largely undefined in most of the United States. 

And maybe it’s not just in the interest of clients to see someone trained to provide the level emotional support they may be after. “It can be heavy,” says Sky. “I’ve had days where I have to take a minute for myself and get myself back together.”

Still, it seems as though few in the field shy away from providing the emotional labor that clients demand. “There’s this huge misconception that at the brothel we just have sex all day,” Sky explains. “But there are a lot of people who come in to work out some serious emotional issues. It’s really a good chunk of what we do.”

“I love my job,” she adds. “But there are certain parties that make us feel like we’re actually making a difference in the world – that we’re actually doing good things and not just providing a good time. And that can be super fulfilling.”

Complete Article HERE!

Yes, we can.

And we can also change the way we talk about disability and sex

By  

There are major barriers for disabled people who want to pursue sex and relationships. They are real and deeply felt. Yet the stigmatising tone of public conversation makes me wary, writes Henrietta Bollinger

“Um … advice? From me? Yes, we can,” was my cautious, then tongue-in-cheek answer. “As Obama would say!”

The others laughed. It was a joke. But I’d just been asked what advice I might have for young people like me who were exploring sex and sexuality. It was also a pithy summary of what 16-year-old me had needed to know.

As a disabled woman this was not something I’d been sure of: could sex be part of my life? When I later conducted research on the experience of young disabled people in sexuality education the question repeated itself. Being unsure if sex and relationships would feature in their lives meant they were unsure if any of the information about safe sex or healthy relationships applied either. They largely disregarded what they had learnt as irrelevant , increasing the risk of abuse. So, I know how important it is to clearly say: “Yes. As a disabled person sex is for you, too.”

This sentiment in the piece headlined “The reality of having sex when you live with a disability” I had to agree with. I also agree that there are major barriers for disabled people who want to pursue sex and relationships. These range from a lack of affirmative education, to the inaccessibility of places where people usually meet potential partners, disabled people’s social isolation and stigma towards disabled people, including assumptions that may come from their own families or the people who support them. There are related issues too, like people’s rights to marriage, fertility or to have children. In this country, it is still legal under the Adoption Act for children to be removed from their parents’ care on the grounds of parental disability. Disabled people are also still far too frequently subjected to sterilization.

The barriers are real and deeply felt. They absolutely need addressing as part of realising equitable and full lives for disabled people. I would absolutely advocate for the removal of all barriers that inhibit us from exploring sexuality or entering sexual relationships as equals to non-disabled people. Yet the tone of public conversation makes me wary. On the rare occasions we do talk about disability and sex it is either to highlight the barriers or to equivocate about sex work. Advocacy which claims the act of sex as something we are entitled to often misses the fact that good sex should be a negotiation, a social interaction. Nobody – including those who work in the sex industry – owes it to anyone.

Sex work as a way for disabled people to access sex has been brought to popular attention by films like The Sessions or Touching Base. The Sessions was a dramatization of Mark O’Brien’s life; a man with polio who decided he wanted to have sex before he died. Touching Base is a documentary about an Australian sex worker who visits disabled clients. Stories like these have a lot of value in terms of amplifying the “Yes we can” message. For many disabled people working with sex workers provides intimacy they may not have and the opportunity to explore their own bodies, take “safe-risks”. But these stories are told into a context where sex workers continue to be stigmatised and so do disabled people.

When this is made the dominant narrative, it allows the rest of “able” society off the hook in terms of examining its own prejudices. Instead of asking hard questions about attitudinal, social, educational and physical barriers that exist to all people being full sexual citizens – we outsource. We tell sex workers that there are morally more and less acceptable ways of doing their jobs, instead of constantly supporting them in their choice of work.

Disabled people, we say to ourselves, are entitled to sex as a service, the uncomplicated meeting of a need. But as partners, lovers in their own right?

There is another story, too, a story that we tell less often – maybe because it is more mundane.

This is the idea that disabled people can and do have sex – without the help of any support or sex workers. We are straight, queer, alone, together. We are partners, lovers, parents and all the rest. It is the kind of conversation that is happening privately, or being just lived. It is the mundane story we need to make sure people know is out there too.

Because after we understand that “Yes we can” we ask: how? And we have to know there is not one reality of sex and disability but many. The more varied the stories we tell, the more will seem possible to the disabled kid in their sex ed class, as well as to their potential partners.

Complete Article HERE!

Sex workers offer intimacy and connection for disabled clients in the age of the dating app

Oliver Morton-Evans visits sex workers as he says potential partners cannot see past his wheelchair.

By Sarah Matthews

Oliver Morton-Evans has sought the services of sex workers over the years, because dating can be especially tough for anyone with a disability.

Despite having tried “every dating app out there”, Oliver, 39, has never been in a long-term relationship.

The Sydneysider, now a successful tech entrepreneur, said despite looking for a partner ever since finishing high school, he has had no luck.

In the modern dating world, in which apps such as Tinder rely on appearance and snap judgements, Mr Morton-Evans said most people could not see past his wheelchair.

“It’s been really hard because I’m kind of always in a quandary of, ‘do I disclose my disability straight up or do I not?’,” he said.

“I kind of don’t want to, because although it’s a part of me it’s not all of who I am.

“The moment they see a wheelchair, people tend to create a story in their head of what that might mean.”

But he said visiting sex workers was not just about the physical pleasure.

“I have no shame or anything like that, but that’s just not what I most deeply desire,” he said.

“There’s so much more to sex than just the physical activity.”

Mr Morton-Evans said everybody needed the feel of human touch to feel connected.

Mr Morton-Evans said seeing sex workers provided him with the intimacy he craved in his everyday life, and motivated him to keep looking for a partner.

“I think for an able-bodied person they forget about how much, particularly touch for example … humans need touch to feel connected with others,” he said.

“So when I would see a sex worker, it tends to make me feel a lot more able to then go out and find the kind of relationship I want.”

People with disabilities seek intimacy from sex workers

Although often viewed as taboo, many people with disabilities seek the services of sex workers as an outlet for their sexual and intimate desires.

Brisbane escort Lisa said she regularly saw clients with disabilities and was proud to provide a service for people struggling to find intimacy in their everyday lives.

“I see this job as just an extension of the caring person that I am,” she said.

Brisbane escort Lisa says clients with disabilities may want affection or a chat, not always sex.

“Not everyone wants to have sex. They just want a bit of affection, or to chat to someone, all that sort of thing.

“It’s just me giving to the person what they need, and I feel that I’m doing a worthwhile job by helping other people.”

She said access to sexual services, especially for marginalised people, was vital for their health and wellbeing.

“It’s a genuine health issue,” she said.

“Like a baby needs affection, needs cuddles, needs touch, needs food, needs all these things [so too] an adult does.

“It doesn’t matter what age you are … it’s so basic of a human need.”

Noriel works as an escort and is the Cairns representative for Respect Inc, the Queensland sex worker support group.

She said she believed access to sex workers for people with disabilities should be covered under the NDIS.

Cairns escort Noriel believes access to sex workers for people with disabilities should be covered under the NDIS.

“Whether you are a wage-earner or you’re on any type of benefit from the government, you have a right to spend your money however you want,” she said.

“And if you would like to spend your money hiring the services of a sex worker, I think you should be able to do that.”

Social attitudes have harmful impacts

Counsellor and registered NDIS provider Casey Payne said it was a common misconception that people with disabilities were non-sexual.

“Just because you live with something that’s different to everybody else doesn’t mean that your life can’t still be the same in every aspect, especially in sexual health.

“Everybody deserves the right to have a pleasurable, sexual, healthy life.”

Deakin University Associate Professor in disability and inclusion Dr Patsie Frawley said research had found people with disabilities were disproportionately affected by breast and cervical cancer — but also by sexually transmitted infection (STI).

“If you’re not seen as sexual and as a sexual person, the range of sexual health screenings, sexual health prevention and response services won’t be offered to you,” she said.

“It’s been identified in research that men with an intellectual disability have eight times greater rates of STIs than their non-disabled peers.”

Sex worker with a disability challenges perceptions

Raivynn DarqueAngel has met the stereotypes of both sex workers and people with disabilities head on.

Raivynn has cerebral palsy and has worked in Melbourne’s sex industry for more than 20 years.

Raivyn, who has cerebral palsy and uses an electric wheelchair, has worked in Melbourne’s sex industry for more than 20 years, mostly as a dominant escort.

“I chose to be a dominant to … change perceptions,” she said.”

The submissive people that I see make me feel strong and in charge and I like that. I’ve taken it back home and I’m much more confident saying what I need with my support workers.

“It’s given me the confidence to trust that I’m worth my needs.”

Despite his disappointing dating experiences, Mr Morton-Evans insisted he had not given up on finding love.

He had one thing to say to potential partners: “Don’t judge a book by its cover.”

Complete Article HERE!

Want to figure out the rules of sexual consent? Ask sex workers.

by Jessie Patella-Rey

[T]he #MeToo movement has pushed issues of consent to the foreground of our cultural zeitgeist. Confoundingly, though, some of the movement’s most vocal champions seem to be the worst at respecting the very conventions they are espousing. Shortly after now-former New York attorney general Eric Schneiderman filed a lawsuit against Hollywood producer Harvey Weinstein, for example, Schneiderman resigned in the face of four sexual-abuse allegations. In a public statement, he claimed that he had simply been engaged in “role-playing and other consensual sexual activities.”

If Schneiderman really believes that to be true, his understanding of what consent actually involves seems to be fundamentally confused. Consent demands thoughtful communication, careful reflection and sometimes takes practice. Few know this better than people who deal with consent every day as part of their jobs: sex workers, for whom negotiating consent and setting boundaries is central to the work of sex work. It’s our ability to tackle these issues that makes us good at what we do. As the conversation around consent moves ahead, it’s time others start learning from our own hard-won experience.

If turning to sex workers for conceptual clarity and moral guidance rings odd to you, it may be because we sex workers have been systematically excluded from these discussions. Many refuse to acknowledge that sex workers are even capable of exercising consent. This is the rhetoric of what anthropologist Laura Agustín calls the “rescue industry”— a term used to describe people and institutions who conceptualize all sex workers as victims in need of saving. Catherine MacKinnon has argued, for example, that “in prostitution, women have sex with men they would never otherwise have sex with. The money thus acts as a form of force, not as a measure of consent. It acts like physical force does in rape.” More recently, Julie Bindel has proposed, “In almost every case it’s actually slavery. The women who work as prostitutes are in hock and in trouble. They’re in need of rescue just as much as any of the more fashionable victims of modern slavery.”

This thinking casts sex workers as victims, entirely without agency of our own, while ironically speaking authoritatively about us without asking for our input. It’s a stance that parallels the hypocrisy behind Schneiderman purporting to champion consent for women while allegedly ignoring it in practice.

This is a mistake. As Lola Davina, former sex worker and author of several books, including “Thriving in Sex Work: Heartfelt Advice for Staying Sane in the Sex Industry,” put it to me in an email, she views “sex workers as soldiers on the front lines of the consent wars.” That squares with my own experience, which suggests that the lessons we teach may be broadly applicable. In my own work as a phone-sex operator, which I also write and podcast about under the name Jessie Sage, I’ve had numerous clients who have called me to rehearse future conversations or negotiations with their wives or partners. And my experiences merely scratch the surface of what’s possible.

With this premise in mind, I recently reached out to community organizer and writer Chanelle Gallant to ask what she thinks sex workers can offer. “Something unique about sex work is that consent is seen as a collective responsibility,” she said. “Sex workers organize to build their power and the ability to prevent abuse.” In some cases, that might involve exchanging information about bad customers, workplaces or managers. In others, it might be about collaborating to improve workplace conditions.

This collective organizing also translates to the interactions of individual sex workers with their clients. Stripper and journalist Reese Piper told me that she has had to learn how to avoid situations with people who will violate her. “Sex workers know how to walk away from people or situations that are dangerous or not worth our time,” she said. “It’s part of our job to detect dangerous customers. And it’s also our job to invest in customers that will value our labor.”

Alex Bishop, a sex worker and activist, talks about gaining these insights and skills as a gift that sex work has given her. She told me, “Before I did sex work, I didn’t think as deeply about sexuality and consent. I was still young and naive and slept with men because they bought me dinner or were nice.” It was her job that helped her change her way of thinking, so much so that she suggested she would like to see everyone try out sex work “for a few weeks,” if only to help open their eyes. To her way of thinking, “sex work instills a lot of confidence in those that do the work. It becomes easy to say no because you find yourself saying it all day long to clients.”

Piper agrees, telling me, “Stripping taught me how to value my time, my emotional energy and my body. It taught me how to stand up for myself. I never used to tell men who accosted me on the street to go away. Now it’s easy. I don’t feel bad about valuing my space and soul.”

Mistress Eva, who specializes in domme work, describes her interactions with clients as safer and defined than those outside of sex work. At the airport on the way home from DomCon, she took a few minutes to write to me: “I never have to hesitate about entering an interaction as a sex worker, because our interaction is always preceded by negotiation and an understanding of our combined desires and limits.”

Circling back to Davina, I asked for specific examples of how sex work has taught her how to negotiate consent. She explains, “Here’s what sex work taught me: I can say ‘yes’ to a lap dance then say ‘no’ to kissing. I can say ‘yes’ to kissing, then say ‘no’ to a blowjob. I can say ‘yes’ to a blowjob, then say ‘no’ to intercourse. … Saying ‘yes’ to one sexual act is saying ‘yes’ to that particular sexual act, and nothing more. Sex workers navigate these waters all day, every day.”

Recognizing that they can add a lot to our conversations around consent, many sex workers have taken it upon themselves to teach consent in their sex work practices. Ginger Banks, who has been a sex worker for eight years, told me, “After learning more about consent [as a sex worker] I see so many different ways that we violate it, possibly [unintentionally]. I think it is important to discuss this topic of consent with our fan bases.” Reflecting on her experience as a porn performer, she explained, “This is why I try and integrate the consent into my films, compared to just having it done just off camera. This way I can teach people about consent while they watch my films.”

It should be clear, then, that despite what the rescues industry assumes, we sex workers spend a great deal of our time both exercising and practicing consent. Significantly, we do so in the context of our relationships with clients. These sort of low stakes transactional interactions are fertile ground for productive consent work. Sex workers can, and often do, walk away from interactions with clients who fail to value consent. Accordingly, clients must practice negotiating consent in order for a transaction to continue. And, as my own experiences suggest, those are skills that they can transfer to their other relationships.

Given all of this, I’d argue that we need to empower sex workers to continue to do the sort of valuable, consent-focused work that we are already doing. In relationship to consent, we need to stop thinking about sex work as the problem, and start thinking about sex workers as part of the solution.

Complete Article HERE!

Medically assisted sex? How ‘intimacy coaches’ offer sexual therapy for people with disabilities

‘For me, the sex is obviously why I’m seeking this out, but I’m also seeking services like this out because … I feel the need to be touched, to be kissed,’ says Spencer Williams.

[F]or years, Spencer Williams felt he was missing something in his love life.

The 26-year-old Vancouver university student and freelance writer has cerebral palsy. He says he meets lots of potential sex partners but had trouble finding what he was looking for.

“I always refer to my wheelchair as it comes to dating … as a gigantic cock block,” he says. “It doesn’t always get me to the places I want, especially when it comes to being intimate.”

“I thought, if something didn’t happen now, I was going to die a virgin.”

So he Googled “sexual services for people with disabilities.”

That’s how Williams found Joslyn Nerdahl, a clinical sexologist and intimacy coach.

‘Intimacy coach’ Joslyn Nerdahl says sex can be healing.

“I answer a lot of anatomy questions. I answer a lot of questions about intercourse, about different ways that we might be able to help a client access their body,” says Nerdahl, who moved from traditional sex work to working as an intimacy coach with Vancouver-based Sensual Solutions.

“I believe [sex] can be very healing for people and so this was a really easy transition for me, to make helping people with physical disabilities feel more whole.”

Sensual Solutions is geared toward people with disabilities who want or need assistance when it comes to sex or sexuality. It can involve relationship coaching, sex education or more intimate services. They call the service “medically assisted sex.” It costs $225 for a one-hour session.

Nerdahl notes that some people with disabilities are touched often by care aids or loved ones who are assisting with everyday activities such as getting dressed or eating.  But her clients tell her that despite that frequent physical contact, the lack of “erotic touch” or “intimate touch” can leave them feeling isolated, depressed or even “less human.”

‘Help a client access their body’

Nerdahl says each session with a client is different, depending on the person’s level of comfort and experience, as well as his or her particular desires and physical capabilities.

Williams says his sessions might start with breathing exercises or physio and move on to touching, kissing and other activities.

An intimacy coach may help a client put on a condom or get into a certain position.

A session might also involve “body mapping,” Nerdahl says, describing it as “a process of going through different areas of the body, in different forms of touching, to figure out what you like and what you don’t like.”

Social stigma

Sex and sexual pleasure remains a taboo topic when it comes to people with disabilities.

For Williams, accessing this service is about more than sexual pleasure. But it’s about that, too.

“[T]he sex is obviously why I’m seeking this out, but I’m also seeking services like this out because I feel the need to be close. I feel the need to connect. I feel the need to be touched, to be kissed.”

“Sometimes people … offer to sleep with me as a pity, and I often don’t appreciate that. I want things to be organic and natural,” says Williams.

He much prefers his sessions with Nerdahl, in which he is able to explore physical and emotional intimacy in a non-judgmental and supportive setting, even though it’s something he pays money for.

“I think it freaks people out when we talk about sex and disability because most of the time they haven’t thought about that person in a wheelchair getting laid,” Nerdahl says. “They just assume they don’t have a sex life because they’re in a chair, and that’s just not the case.”

Legal grey area

The stigma is further complicated because Canada’s prostitution laws have no provisions for services that blur the line between rehabilitation and sex work.

Kyle Kirkup is critical of Canada’s current prostitution laws that criminalize the sex trade regardless of context or intent.

Currently, it’s legal to sell sex and sex-related services, but illegal to purchase them. (Sex workers can be charged for advertising services or soliciting services but only if in the vicinity of school grounds or daycare centres.)

Kyle Kirkup, an assistant professor at the University of Ottawa’s Faculty of Law, calls the current laws a “one-size-fits-all approach” that criminalizes the sex trade regardless of context or intent.

The current law doesn’t include provisions for people with disabilities, or which deal specifically with services like Sensual Solutions whose intimacy coaches may come from clinical or rehabilitation backgrounds.

“A person with a disability who purchases sexual services would be treated exactly the same as any other person who purchased sex,” he says.

“So it’s a very kind of blunt instrument that doesn’t actually do a very good job of contextualizing the reasons why people might pay for sex.”

There are other countries, however, such as the Netherlands that view medically assisted sex in another way entirely; sex assistants’ services may be covered by benefits, just like physiotherapy or massage.

Complete Article HERE!

Looking for a Pro(vider)

Name: Gabe
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Location: Salt Lake City
I travel a lot for work and often get really lonely on long trips. I’m not much for going to bars, because I don’t drink. And the idea of looking for sex in a bathhouse or sex club, or worse in the bushes, really puts me off. Lately I’ve been thinking I should just hire an escort, but I wouldn’t even know how to begin. This must be a pretty common phenomenon though because I see tons of ads for escorts on line in every city I go to. Any suggestions on how someone new at this might proceed?

[S]ure darlin’, I have lots of suggestions. I presume you’ve ordered out for food on occasion while you were traveling for business, right? Finding a satisfying “order out” sexual adventure is not fundamentally different than that. In the case of an escort, the commodities are charming company, erotic massage, and a little sex play, instead of Potstickers, Moo shu pork, or Kung Pao Chicken.

As you know, not all order out is created equal. There is bad food and unsavory escorts. So you’re gonna need to do some homework. You already know there are loads of escort or rent-boy sites on the net. There are also several review sites, where customers of the provider leave their comments regarding their levels of satisfaction and the like. Most escorts out there, particularly the really good ones, immediately call your attention to the review they receive. This is a good policy for both provider and consumer alike. It’s like having the Good Housekeeping Seal of Approval stamped on your ass.

I have a sense that some of my readers are turning up their nose at this discussion. I often hear from folks that they don’t have to PAY for sex. Oh yeah? Here’s the thing, sex fans; no sex is free. You may not be directly commerce-ing in hard cold cash, but there’s a commercial aspect to all sex…even, or maybe I should say, especially in marriage. So if we could skip the moral high-horse thing, right about now, I’d appreciate it.

Ok, so now that we have that out of the way, we can get back to your question, Gabe. Once you’ve decided to proceed, start by interviewing a few working boys. This can initially be done vie email. Ask for further information about his services and rates. Many escorts have plenty more photos of themselves available to be sent to prospective clients, so you might respectfully request those. If at all possible, include a photo of yourself, or at the very least an accurate description of yourself.

In all communication with the service provider, NEVER suggest that you are offering money for sex, in most jurisdictions that’s against the law. While we all know that the client hopes to get some sex action in the encounter, the money exchanged is not for the sex, but for the provider’s time, company and expertise. This may sound like splitting hairs. But in this arrangement, if sex actually happens, consenting adults are mutually agreeing to it during the time they’ve arranged to be together. Curiously enough, many of the sex professionals I know, and I know a lot of ‘em, tell me that a sizable portion of their clientele only want their company and companionship. Outright sex never enters the equation.

Finding the right escort for you, on any given occasion, is your task. Know what you want and know how to ask for it. Don’t waste your time or that of the provider by beating around the bush. If you are new at this, say so. The rentboy, if he’s any good at all, will be familiar with this territory and help you though the initial conversation. There are different levels of pros out there; each will have his own fee structure for services provided. If you’re looking for something kinky, be ready to pay lots more. Never try to bargain with the provider. If he’s out of your price range, move along. Or you could simply come right out with it and say, Listen, I have X amount of money to spend and I’m looking for some delightful company. Are you available? This way you let the provider decide if he has the time to spare at the discounted rate. You’d be a fool not to insist on safe-sex, but there’s a shit-load of fools out there.

Not all prostitutes are prostitutes because they want to. Some are supporting a drug habit, some are working their way though college. For some it’s survival sex. For others it’s acting out behavior. But most guys turn pro because they’re good at what they do. And most enjoy the accompanying lifestyle. The truly successful provider will have a string of regulars, men they have a somewhat more intimate connection with. Kinda like finding a great Chinese restaurant and becoming a regular there. The proprietor might just offer you something not on the menu as a way of acknowledging your preferred customer status. Get it?

Some Johns, use the service of an agency. Sometimes that can be a more reliable way to go at first. However, I am of the mind that the hard-working independent entrepreneur is best.

When arranging an outcall to your hotel, there may be an additional surcharge for traveling time and cost — think gas prices. This should be agreed upon before the deal is struck.

Most independent escorts offer both in calls and outcalls. They usually work out of their home or apartment and many of these escorts have day jobs. Some independent escorts also work in the porn industry. If this suits your tastes, you will definitely pay a premium for a date with a star.

You’ll also find among the independent providers that unique phenomenon — Gay For Pay. These guys are ostensibly “straight”…and I put that word in quotes and use it very lightly. GFP guys will have gay sex with gay men for money. In the old days, we used to refer to them as trade. And like we in the business say, “today’s trade is tomorrow’s competition;” if you catch my drift.

At any rate, like I said at the beginning, a wise and informed consumer is happy and satisfied consumer.

Good Luck