Shame, stigma continue to surround consensual adult sex work

For some, it’s a form of survival in the method of supplementing their incomes. For others, it can be a liberating exercise in self-expression. And for others still, it just isn’t a very big deal. But for a significant segment of society, sex work is seen as something to hide and be ashamed of, which is what happened to a New York City paramedic last month, sparking discussions that examined patriarchy, capitalism and misogyny.

Lauren Kwei is a paramedic in New York City who began supplementing her income a few months before the pandemic with an account on Onlyfans, a content subscription service popularized by sex workers. Kwei was selling sexual photos and videos to her subscribers, like many content creators on the platform. Someone left an anonymous tip with the New York Post about Kwei’s additional work, and the media outlet subsequently published an article about her account, despite her requests to the paper to not publish the story out of fear of losing her full-time job.

Amber J. Keyser is an author and advocate for young adults, and holds a doctorate from the University of Georgia in population genetics and evolutionary biology. She’s written 15 books for tweens and teens focused on sex-positive and consent-focused sex education, rape culture, and the #Metoo movement, as well as the commodification of the female body in history, fashion and media. She took some time to share her perspective on the stigma that remains around sex work. (This email interview has been edited for length and clarity.)

Q:

The tone of the New York Post story about Kwei seemed to find the existence of her Onlyfans content to be unprofessional and inappropriate, and she was worried about losing her full-time job. What was your initial response to seeing that a media outlet had pursued and published this story, especially as it relates to your own work on sex education and gender?

A:

You know what I think is unprofessional and inappropriate? Paying first responders an insulting and unlivable wage. All of these fusty people criticizing what Kwei does when she’s off duty seem to think that it’s better to be “respectable” and starving, but they also think Kwei better keep saving her patients’ lives while her stomach growls. When I was researching my book, “No More Excuses: Dismantling Rape Culture,” I read a line from a sex worker that really stuck with me. He said, “Sex work is survival work.” Criticizing sex work without interrogating the oppressive economic and social systems that support sex work is a distraction and lazy journalism. Kwei posted nudes. Kim Kardashian posted the nudes that “broke the Internet.” Brett Favre sent unsolicited (genital) pics. You know what’s different? Power. Power is always at play when we are considering sex and sex work.

Q:

Maybe a week after that initial story about Kwei, rapper T.I. made remarks about sex workers on his podcast, saying, in part, “… Keep your daughter off the pole. You spending time going to daddy-daughter dances and taking her on trips where it’s just you and her, those are thot (a mostly derogatory term used to refer to women who have multiple, casual sexual encounters or relationships) prevention hours. You don’t do that, they’re gonna be somewhere in Magic City (a popular Atlanta strip club) tryna figure it out. That is absolutely necessary for any father.” Juxtaposing his statements alongside what happened to Kwei, is it possible for this kind of rhetoric to contribute to what happened to Kwei? Or to the ways that sex work is stigmatized?

A:

There is a lot to unpack here. Sex work and female sexuality (I’m thinking about “WAP,” the song released by rappers Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion last year) are the focus of a lot of shame and blame because our culture divides women into “good” women and “bad” women. T.I. is doing this here by saying that some women are “thots,” but his daughter will be one of the good ones. In this mindset, a woman who is separate from her sexuality, or who expresses her sexuality in ways that fathers find acceptable, are good. Many aspects of modern purity culture call back to the historical ownership of girls and women by their fathers and husbands.

Q:

I realize we don’t have room to explore this next question with the space it deserves, but can you talk a little bit about how systems and concepts like patriarchy and misogyny work to uphold the specific shame of sex work? And what you would like to see happen to help dismantle and eliminate that stigma?

A:

I think attitudes to sex work are related to the predominance of rape culture in America. To a person, Americans say they abhor rape, and yet one in five women and one in 71 men will be raped in their lifetime. Sexual assault is incredibly common. I define rape culture as all the ways, both large and small, that our society excuses and normalizes male sexual aggression and violence. Common myths of rape culture include false constructs like saying men can’t control their sexual urges and therefore it’s up to women to block men and protect themselves.

It’s important to notice that in the discussion around Kwei, everyone seems to have strong opinions about what Kwei should or shouldn’t do. No one is really talking about her paying customers. Why aren’t we talking about men who choose to pay to consume a product (sex) they want, instead of engaging in mutually respectful, mutually satisfying relationships? We are back to talking about power again. In patriarchy, men’s needs and desires are seen as more important than those of women. Add in a dose of misogyny, like when T.I. calls women “thots,” and it becomes easy to justify treating those “bad” women, the ones who aren’t your daughter, as sex delivery systems.