Trauma as a Catalyst for Sex Work
A big part of why I went into sex work was because I felt like I was a damaged human being who had nothing to lose and everything to gain. I had been in an abusive relationship with my first serious boyfriend, which ended up leaving me feeling worthless and ashamed.
I coped with my PTSD through drugs and alcohol, which ultimately led to an arrest and stint in rehab. My facade of “having it together” and “being good” – whatever the hell that even meant – was officially shattered and there I was, free to explore my shadow in a way the shackles of suburbia and academia had never allowed.
“It’s not like I’m having good sex with any of these fuck boys my own age anyways, so I might as well start getting paid to do it,” I remember thinking. Looking back, I don’t see my sex work journey as either good or bad. Some aspects were traumatizing, others were empowering. One thing is for sure though – I’m a hell of a lot more interesting and empathetic than I would have been had I never ventured into the world of sugaring.
Letting Go of Self-Limiting Beliefs
I’m not going to lie though. Letting go of the “I am damaged” limiting self-belief has not been easy. Spirituality has really helped me do so, as has surrounding myself with a nonjudgemental support system that values me for the fully formed human I am today. As a practitioner of tantra, I’ve come to believe that each human is a spark of the divine put here on this earth to express as their true authentic selves.
Societal conditioning aka ego is the only thing standing in the way of our divinity/perfection/expression of dharma aka true self-hood. In other words, it is not my past that makes me damaged or imperfect, but rather the bullshit conditioning I allow myself to be indoctrinated by – the shame lens I view myself and my experiences through.
Once I gained this awareness, I was able to let go of much of my self-loathing and start seeing my past as a wealth of lessons that were all part of a greater plan – a destiny involving a spiritual awakening and a career in holistic healing. While coming to terms with my shit was difficult enough on its own, I still had to face the misogynists dead set on tearing me down and using my sex work past against me.
When a Lover Becomes a Hater
My ex-boyfriend, for instance, pretended to be totally okay with my sugaring past – to the point where I opened up about basically everything. Then, when shit started hitting the fan for unrelated reasons, he would throw things I had told him in confidence back in my face to highlight how emotionally stunted and fucked up I was.
Despite having come to terms with my trauma and letting go of the victim narrative I had let my therapists push on me in years prior, it was hard not to take the person I felt closest to telling me, “you’re damaged,” to heart. “Is he telling me an uncomfortable truth or simply trying to manipulate and hurt me by going for the jugular?” I pondered.
A year removed from the situation and while I’ll never be able to know for sure whether he actually meant the cruel words he spewed at me, it really doesn’t matter one way or another. This man was a toxic piece of shit who gaslit me and did everything in his power to tear me down. His reasoning for doing what he did is a moot point. From here on out, I aim to be more conscious about the people I let into my life.
But what about when it’s a friend who is wrapped up in a similar cycle? A sugar baby friend recently confided to me that her partner had expressed a similar “damaged goods” sentiment. While he is actually quite a nice fellow and nowhere near as problematic as my ex, I couldn’t help but get riled up. This dude wasn’t just going around saying this for the satisfaction of tearing someone down. Rather, he was struggling to get to the bottom of why he and his girlfriend were having relationship issues.
By his logic, since he’s never been involved in such a tumultuous love affair, the only reasonable explanation is that his ex-sugar baby girlfriend is fucked up and hasn’t worked through her trauma. This, he claims, is the root cause of their constant bickering. Never mind the fact that he’s a domineering (albeit charismatic and loving) partner who doesn’t hold space for her to express as the free-spirited creative she was born to be.
Swapping “Damaged” for “Layered”
I’m not saying my friend and I don’t have issues that would be worth seeking professional help for. I’m not saying that sex work doesn’t take its toll nor present its fair share of challenges in normal, romantic relationships. And I’m definitely not saying that a partner – male or otherwise – doesn’t have the right to voice his opinion, especially when it’s coming from a place of (tough) love.
What I am saying is that society has made it all too easy for a man to pin all the blame onto his woman. Sex work, shame, and morality are all so closely intertwined that even the wokest of men seem to struggle with letting go of the idea that a woman could not only be just fine after a life of sex work but full-on thrive.
The insight into human psychology and sociology I’ve gained, the upward mobility I’ve experienced, and the opportunity to connect with humans from all different walks of life I’ve been blessed with are benefits that have been overlooked by my seemingly well-intentioned male counterparts. I’m tired of having to constantly defend my actions. I’m tired of having to pretend that I regret every second of my time as a sex worker in order to appease the ego of whatever man I’m sharing a bed with during my post-sex work era.
Was it always roses and sunshine? Definitely not. But I for one am done accepting the “fuck up” label society at large is so eager to throw at me and others like me. Sex workers are not damaged, nor are survivors of abuse. We are layered gods and goddesses with a deep understanding of power, desire, and sexuality, and anyone set on telling us otherwise can fuck off.
Jules
Based in Brooklyn, Jules has dedicated her twenties towards harnessing her pussy power, exploring the muse, whore, and wild woman archetypes along the way. When not blogging, you can find her sweating the toxins out in a hot yoga class or sipping a matcha latte at a pretentious coffee shop, whilst she scribbles away in her journal.
