I started offering cam sessions as well based on popular request and set up an OnlyFans where I shared photos and videos that doubled as erotic material and sex tutorials. As I did this, the whole concept of work took on a new meaning for me: I could make money by letting my body do what it naturally wanted to do — experience pleasure and share that pleasure with others — instead of crunching it into a desk chair and forcing it to stare at a laptop all day.
This is not to say that sex work isn’t work, but for me, it’s the kind of work that nourishes and flows with my body, rather than battling up against it. On days that are booked with cam sessions and sext conversations, I get out of bed knowing I’m about to experience pleasure and connection, rather than pressure to compete and perform. (Sure, there’s an element of that, but my clients are generally so appreciative, they rarely have difficult demands or criticisms.) It doesn’t feel as if my body is being consumed on a superficial level. Rather, in my sessions, it is all of me — my light, my laughter, my sexual knowledge, my friendliness, and yes, the work of art that is my body — being enjoyed and admired.
Read: Why Sex Work Is Not Desperation
Some people would probably say that doing sex work is a waste of my intelligence and talent. But I’m done viewing my intelligence and talent as resources that must be milked for all their worth, or measuring my worth based on them. This is a capitalist value system that keeps people doing what they think will gain approval, rather than what they truly want to do.
I never wanted to spend every moment of every day in my head. Few people do. Many women have been led to believe that empowerment means being seen for their brains and not their physicality. Yet this valuing of the mind over the body (and their separation) is, in fact, patriarchy at work. Ever since the ancient Greeks claimed that women were more corporeal and men were more cerebral, the mind has been equated with maleness, and the body with femaleness, making body-based professions seem less respectable—so much so that OnlyFans itself almost stopped hosting sexual content because banks would not support them.Read: Why I Lived and Loved Sex Work - And Now I'm Ready to Quit
Doing sex work taught me that I don’t have to participate in this system of thought. I don’t have to formulate groundbreaking ideas, be remarkably productive, or build up an “impressive” resume to be loved or live a good life. I just have to enjoy myself, be genuine, and connect.
I love myself more having realized this: I am lovable just as I am. I am worthy of everything good just as I am. I am nice and cute and fun. I am me, and that’s enough.