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On Using Dating Sites During a Pandemic

Kate Sloan

At the beginning of this pandemic, I thought, “Guess nobody’s gonna be dating for a while” – but my friends are proving me wrong.

It’s been fascinating to observe. I have friends who’ve logged onto OkCupid just to have flirty, esoteric text chats with strangers, friends who’ve sipped coffee on Zoom dates with cute new beaux also sipping coffee in their apartment across town, and friends who’ve even met up with potential paramours for socially-distanced park picnics or patio hangs. Knowing and trusting that my friends are staying smart and staying safe (to the best of their ability within a harm-reduction framework), I admire their ingenuity in the face of the lockdown loneliness that’s hit many people hard.

I myself have even scrolled through Tinder once in a while during this global crisis (old habits die hard), looking to strike up a volley of banter with someone hot and smart. It’s not that I’m necessarily looking for new partners or dates – in fact, I very much do not have the energy for that these days, and wouldn’t feel safe meeting up with strangers just yet. It’s that I miss the sense of serendipity and possibility that comes with, say, discovering the guy sitting next to you at the cocktail bar loves the same longform improv troupe you do, or blushing when the cute clerk at the bodega tells you she likes your dress. These little hits of romantic “what if?” are so small, and rarely lead to anything more (for me, at least), but some days they are the social fuel that keeps me going. So if asking random Tinder folks offbeat questions just for the sake of conversation is the safest way to access that feeling these days, I commend anyone who chooses to do it in order to hold onto their social sanity and sense of hope.

Here are some crucial commandments to follow – in my opinion, which is not necessarily the wisest and certainly not the most medically informed opinion, mind you! – if you want to use dating services for just such purposes while we wait for a vaccine and a return to quasi-normalcy:

  1. Pick the right site/app for you. This is always the first step I recommend when embarking on online-dating adventures, because these days, the options are so plentiful and so varied that you can actually tailor your choice to your tastes and priorities. Click around the site/app to get a sense for its overall culture and what its users are generally into, whether that be casual hookups, long-term relationships, non-monogamy, or whatever else. If you’re not sure, you can also read reviews (like this Uberhorny review) of the site/app you’re considering using. Pro tip: I would imagine that sites and apps which have actively issued safety warnings to their users about COVID-19 – like Tinder and Grindr – are likelier to have cultures wherein fewer mask-eschewers and “plandemic” believers can fester.
  2. Be upfront about your intentions, ideally right in your bio so no one has to waste time on you if their desires don’t align with yours. If you’re only up for phone dates and Skype dates for the next several months, say so. If you’re hopeful that that’ll include phone sex, sexting, or what-have-you, say so. If you’re looking for someone to actually meet up with IRL during all this, say so – and include information about what safety measures you would expect to implement around that, and what you’d expect from a potential date in that arena. I know this isn’t the most “chill” stuff to put on your profile, but look, we’re not living in “chill” times.
  3. Don’t lower your standards just because times are tough and pickings are slim. Yeah, maybe all you’re seeking is a torrid sexting session with a rando, but you still deserve a rando who’s polite, respectful, and makes you feel good! Try to remember what your dating priorities were before this mess started (I know, it can be difficult to hearken back to The Before) and do your best to seek people who line up with that. It’s true that priorities can change in troubling times, but the basic facts are always still there: you don’t need to put up with people you find rude, entitled, or boring. You still deserve the high-quality connections you want – whatever that means to you – even if circumstances feel pretty different now.
  4. Make digital dates feel like “real” dates in whatever ways work for you. That might be dressing up, lighting some candles, tidying your room, making yourself a nice meal or cocktail to enjoy while you chat with your new cutie, or something else entirely. The ritual of dating has always been one of my favorite things about it, and if that’s true for you too, it’d be a pity to miss out on that comfort and excitement just because you’re stuck at home. You don’t have to have that sexting session while wearing dirty sweatpants and rocking unbrushed teeth – in fact, you’d probably feel much sexier during the convo if you didn’t!
  5. Come prepared with questions or games, because – as you might know – phone dates and Skype dates can be a little awkward at first. True, in-person dates can also be weird as fuck, but most of us have more experience with them and know how to navigate their weirdnesses better. In case of uncomfortable silences, you can usually remark on something in your environment or ask the bartender a question or whatever – not so when you’re holed up in the same bedroom you’ve been stuck in for ages! Plus, most of us have had fewer everyday social interactions these past few months than we did before, so our ability to be smooth and chatty may have eroded slightly. If I was trying to meet new dates online at this time, I would prep a few interesting questions to ask my date, and frame it (if necessary) as a game where we ask each other questions – or just set it up by simply saying, “Can I ask you something weird that I’m curious about?” You could even send your date this list of questions and take turns asking each other things.
  6. Allow for adjustments if and when you end up meeting a new beau in person, whether that’s a few weeks from now or way out in the future when the pandemic has died down significantly. I recently interviewed dating expert Camille Virginia about finding love in the time of coronavirus, and she reminded me that intimacy and rapport can feel very different online than they do offline – so your super-hot phone-sex pal might not immediately turn your crank once you can actually touch them, smell them, and see how they move through the world, but that’s okay. It takes time to adjust to each other’s in-person conversational rhythms and quirky mannerisms. “If you had a great connection over video or phone calls, try to establish a new norm with that in person,” Camille says, “because it’s a different way of being with each other. Give it a little longer.”

Have you been using dating sites/apps during the pandemic? What’s your strategy?

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Book Review: Brothel’s Kitchen

Kate Sloan

Sex work is such a normalized field in my sex-positive, feminist communities that sometimes I sort of forget just how stigmatized it is in the world at large – even among people who claim to be “liberal” and “progressive.”

Narratives persist about how all sex work is nonconsensual and exploitative, despite sex workers screaming on social media for years that they’ve chosen their career path and don’t want or need to be “rescued.” Many people still use phrases like “selling your body” to talk about what is actually just the sale of your time and your body-based services, just like what happens in many other fields like massage, modeling, and professional sports. Far too many well-intentioned people try to argue that sex work is bad because it’s “disempowering,” as if the slog of earning a living is held to the same standard of “empowerment” in any other field. It’s perplexing and enraging – especially since so many of these folks think they’re being helpful by parroting their bullshit opinions that are (you guessed it) actively disempowering to sex workers.

I think a lot of this misinformation has to do with sex work’s representation (or lack thereof) in mainstream media, from the evening news to procedural dramas to blockbuster movies. For decades, if not longer, it’s been framed over and over as something one would only do under the direst of financial circumstances, or to get access to drugs, or to quench a psychological craving based in “daddy issues” or other trauma. While obviously there is poverty, addiction, and trauma in the sex work community (just as those things exist in pretty much every other community too), these narratives usually leave out the ways in which sex work can be incredibly positive and enriching for workers and their clients. And hey, newsflash: a job doesn’t have to be 100% peachy all the time to be a valid job worthy of respect and protections. We live under capitalism! Work sucks! Let people choose work that they like to do and feel able to do, since we all have to work anyway!

All this to say, I think positive portrayals of sex work are invaluable in shifting public perception of this misunderstood field. So I was pleased to be asked to review Phillipa Zosime’s new memoir, Brothel’s Kitchen: Flavours of Women.

The book follows Phillipa’s induction into the sex work industry in Austria. It opens with a series of scenes set at a massive orgy held by one of the brothels she works for, at which she’s expected to fuck and fellate clients for 7 hours (with breaks to shower, hydrate, eat, and rest). After she enjoys herself and gets paid, there’s a classic “You’re probably wondering how I ended up in this situation…” flashback and we turn back time to when she first entered the sex work world. Once an archaeology student and political intern, she decided instead to follow her fascination with sex and start having it professionally.

One very interesting aspect of this book to me is the details about Austria’s legal and regulated sex work industry. Regular STI tests are required, workers are considered self-employed contractors for the brothels they frequent, and meticulous paperwork is kept to make sure everything is legit. Many sex workers I know in Canada and the U.S. advocate for decriminalization rather than legalization/regulation, since (among other reasons) legislative bodies don’t tend to know very much about what sex workers and their clients actually need and want – but nonetheless, it was intriguing to hear about how brothels are apparently run over in Austria. The book goes into detail about how profits are split up between workers, madams, and house owners, as well as how much they pay in taxes and what kind of legal due diligence they’re expected to keep up with on a regular basis. These procedural minutiae ought to captivate anyone who’s curious about sex work law around the world.

Another fascinating detail from Philippa’s story is that she had only had one sexual partner before becoming a sex worker. It hadn’t been the most satisfying relationship, and she ended up having her first-ever orgasm with a client at the brothel (which became a point of pride for him and a running joke between them!). This was the point in the book when I started to get excited: it’s a really uncommonly positive depiction of what a career in sex work can be like. If there were more stories like this out there – stories that showcase the good, the bad, the ugly and the beautiful parts of sex work – I think far fewer people would hold shitty misconceptions about the industry.

Yes, there are scary and sad parts of Phillipa’s story. Her friend dies; clients blow up in anger on occasion; women get into snippy arguments; someone’s money gets stolen from her safety deposit box at the brothel. But all of these details just felt really real to me. Writing a fully rosy sex work memoir would, I imagine, be just as absurd as making any other career sound 100% fun 100% of the time. Life has its ups and downs, and so do our jobs, no matter what field we work in.

In addition to heartwarming sex-work friendships and heart-pounding sex-work problems, this book also contains quite a few funny stories that had me literally LOLing. There’s one in particular about one girl accidentally spitting cum onto another girl’s face that I don’t think I will ever be able to forget…

I gotta say, I liked Brothel’s Kitchen even more than I was expecting to. It’s charming, and cute, and fast-paced, and full of strange and illuminating details. There’s a disclaimer at the beginning that explains that “the events and conversations in this book have been set down to the best of the author’s ability,” and that “the author’s recollection of the past occurrences may deviate from those of others,” but there are so many parts of this book that seem like you couldn’t possibly have made them up. That realness is the heart and soul of Phillipa’s writing, and it makes this one hell of a page-turner.

 

Thanks so much to Phillipa Zosime for providing this book for me to review! This post was sponsored, which means that I was paid to write a fair and honest review of the book I was provided with. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

3 Common Masturbation Problems (& How to Fix Them)

Kate Sloan

Sexual problems, while common, are too often cloaked in shame. Most people would rather visit website after website looking for answers to their burning sex questions than ask their doctor, or a friend, or a partner. I think that’s the main reason there are so many recurrent issues in the sexuality field that “sexperts” address over and over – the culture of shame and silence around sexuality leads people to believe they’re alone in their problems, and they’re a freak for struggling with sex or masturbation. It’s sad!

You are not broken or weird or a lost cause if you have sexual struggles. That’s a huge part of what I’ve sought to communicate on this website for all these years. To that end, here are 3 problems many people have with masturbation, and my suggestions for how to solve them. Good luck!

 

“I can’t orgasm!”

This seems to be a more common problem for folks with vulvas, although it can happen to anyone. Anorgasmia is the “persistent inability to achieve orgasm despite responding to sexual stimulation,” and it can be the result of a medical issue, a medication side effect (common with antidepressants, for example), or – perhaps most commonly – a psychological block of some kind. So my first recommendation would be that you ask your doctor about the problem so they can run some tests and look into it, and also that you research any medications you might be on to see whether this is a side effect you can expect from them. If so, you’ll need to weigh the pros and cons of being on that medication – I couldn’t deal with orgasm-quashing antidepressants, but I didn’t need them so badly that my life would be in danger without them, so YMMV!

Beyond that: especially if you’ve never orgasmed before, I think it’ll just take you some time and practice to figure out how to get there both physically and mentally. Physically, try a vibrator (a good one – it should have rumbly vibrations and a wide variety of speeds/modes to experiment with) or other sex toys that appeal to you. Explore body parts not commonly associated with orgasm, like the nipples, anus, or A-spot, when you’re already at a high level of arousal, because there’s a chance a non-standard form of stimulation may float your boat more than the usual go-to’s.

Mentally, keep reminding yourself that pleasure is about the journey, not the destination. Focus your masturbation sessions on making yourself feel as good as possible for as long as possible – not necessarily on orgasm. Cultivate a fantasy life, whether through watching porn, reading erotica, sexting with someone who turns you on, or just conjuring explicit thoughts from your own brain – some people just need more mental stimulation than others, and that’s okay! Be aware that you quite possibly may have already orgasmed without knowing it at some point. Read about the experiences of other anorgasmic people. Develop language for communicating to partners that a lack of orgasm doesn’t necessarily mean a lack of pleasure. Don’t give up hope, but also don’t put too much pressure on yourself – either you’ll get there one day or you won’t, and either way, your body is magical and beautiful and can experience good sensations.

 

“I can’t feel my genitals!”

I hear about this most often from cis male masturbators dealing with what’s called “death grip syndrome” – a state of desensitization resulting from the habitual friction of overzealous masturbation – but it can also be the product of strong vibrators, or of medical problems or medication issues as discussed above – so see your doctor if you can’t think of a behavior-based reason this might be happening to you. In most (non-medical) cases, your desensitization will go away after a few days of abstinence from whatever activities originally caused it.

If you want to reduce desensitization factors and amp up your sensitivity going forward, here are a bunch of suggestions: Use a good lube (no matter what kind of genitals you have) and reapply as needed. Use a looser grip on your penis, or switch to a stroker, Fleshlight, etc. so the tightness will be automatically lessened compared to your hand. Use a weaker vibrator, or a lower setting on the one you own, or put a layer or two of fabric between you and the toy, or press it less hard against your body. Try a sensitizing cream or oil containing ingredients like peppermint or cinnamon. Try a penis pump or clit pump before masturbation to (gently) encourage blood flow to the area for more engorgement and heightened sensitivity. Shave or trim your pubic hair to reduce friction and make your sensitive skin more accessible to stimulation. Spend longer on “foreplay” before ever touching your genitals.

 

“Sex doesn’t feel as good as masturbation!”

Most commonly, I hear this from folks with vulvas who masturbate clitorally and are then surprised and disappointed when penetrative sex doesn’t feel as good. Maybe you know this already, but here’s a reminder: the majority of vulva-possessing people need clitoral stimulation to reach orgasm, since that organ is as central to our sexual response as the penis is to people who have one (the two parts are analogous, meaning they form from the same embryonic tissue). So if your partnered sex contains little to no clit stimulation, that’s the first thing you should fix. Ask your partner to spend more time on oral sex, fingering, or whatever makes you feel good; show them how you like to masturbate, so they can try to replicate it; add clit stim to any penetrative sex you may be having, with your fingers, your partner’s fingers, or a vibrator.

If that’s not your issue but sex still isn’t as good as when you’re by yourself, consider the factors that you think are causing that, and address them. Does your partner not know how to touch you the way you like? If so, show them, and gently help them practice until they figure it out. Do you feel anxiety or stress around your partner that isn’t there when you’re alone? If so, interrogate that, perhaps with your partner, and figure out how to reduce it. (Weed and a blindfold are helpful for me, for example. Sometimes I ask my partner to wear a blindfold so I don’t have to worry about how I look.) Is your partnered sex missing an element of fantasy/mental titillation that you routinely give yourself when you’re alone? If so, watch your favorite porn or read your favorite erotica with your partner, or talk dirty to them about your favorite fantasy, or tell them what you’d like them to dirty-talk about. Basically, examine the conditions that make your solo sex so great, and plan some ways of bringing those elements into the bedroom with your partner!

 

What solutions have you found for these common masturbation problems?

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

5 Pandemic-Friendly Kinks to Play With While Quarantining

Kate Sloan

I don’t know about you, but watching a dramatic worldwide crescendo of racism and transphobia play out against the backdrop of a global pandemic doesn’t exactly make me horny. I’m sure that’s quadruply true for the people of color and trans people directly affected by the tidal wave of bullshit enveloping the world right now.

And yet… particularly for those of us who are highly sexual people and/or sex nerds, pursuing pleasure through sex can be one of our major methods of escapism, right alongside Netflix marathons and Animal Crossing sessions. I’ve been lucky enough to have my partner quarantined with me for the past 3 months, but they can’t and won’t stay forever, so I’m mentally preparing myself for the need to take my sexuality into my own hands once again. In stressful times such as these, getting creative can be an important component of that.

The good news is that even solo sexual creativity is easier than ever in the internet age. Online, we can theoretically order sex toys and sex furniture to satisfy our every kinky whim – and we can also learn about proclivities we may never have otherwise heard about, and start incorporating them into our fantasy lives. Here are some suggestions that work surprisingly well in a COVID-wracked world…

Mask Up

As a recent NYC Health brief on safer sex in the time of coronavirus helpfully noted, wearing a face covering or mask during sex is one way to practice harm reduction when hooking up these days. However, even if you’re rollin’ solo, a mask could be an interesting addition to your kinky imaginings. As you’ve probably already noticed while walking around with a mask on, these useful pieces of fabric make it slightly difficult to breathe… kinda like a lover’s hand clamped over your mouth and nose in a breath-play scene. This effect could make a mask a hot addition to your next masturbation session – just be safe, okay? Take the mask off if you start to experience any genuine discomfort or difficulty breathing. And wash that thing before you wear it out into the world again, incase you got any, uh, droplets on it.

Undercover Ballgag

Speaking of masks, it occurs to me that these days you could potentially wear a ballgag outdoors completely unnoticed under your mask, particularly with the creative usage of a hat or somesuch to cover any telltale straps. Only do this if you know you won’t need to interact with anyone at any point – maybe on a meandering walk on side-streets while listening to a kinky podcast. I’d suggest the type of ballgag that has holes in it for easier breathing, since – as we’ve discussed – masks already make that difficult. Don’t overdo this one, because you don’t want to injure your jaw, but if you’re craving some public humiliation/submission, this could be a cool way to make that happen without necessarily involving any non-consenting third parties.

Creepin’ and Cammin’

We’ve already talked about exhibitionism vis-à-vis quarantine, but my friend Bex had such a great idea about this on a recent episode of our podcast that I wanted to share it here too. With the proliferation of Zoom calls and FaceTime chats these days, it’s easy to imagine a roleplay scenario with a partner in which you “accidentally” forget to disconnect at the end of a call, and the person on the other end is able to creepily watch while you get undressed, or jerk off, or fellate a sex toy, or… whatever else you like to do to decompress after a draining video call. This is a cool way to play with the idea of a “peeping tom” without either of you having to leave your homes.

Hygiene Humiliation

In just the few months since COVID popped off, I’ve noticed it’s shifted the way I view media. I’ll be watching a party scene from a 1960s sex comedy, or a friend-hang at a crowded bar in a ’90s sitcom, and I’ll feel myself momentarily overcome with medical anxiety – “Aaahh, get away from each other, you’re not standing 6 feet apart, you fools!!” It occurs to me, though, that this same impulse could be harnessed for all sorts of humiliation-based fantasies. Maybe your domme orders you to give yourself a harsh spanking for only washing your hands for one Happy Birthday, not two… or you have to scour every doorknob and cabinet handle with Lysol and an old toothbrush… or you get your mouth rinsed out with soap for breaking one too many public health guidelines. (Listen to the recent episode of the Off the Cuffs podcast entitled “Rub A Dub Dub” for tips on mouth-soaping!) Whatever you do, make sure all your “violations” occur only in your own home, or even just within your fantasies – humiliation is hot but it’s not worth spreading disease for, obvi.

Ghostly ‘Gasms

Have you ever heard of spectrophilia? It’s a fetishistic interest in spirits or ghosts (or the idea of them, anyway). Some folks in this community claim to have actually hooked up with a ghost, or perhaps several; I’ll let the Mythbusters handle that one, but even if you don’t believe in the paranormal, it could be fun to do a spectrophilic scene with your socially-distanced sweetie. If you put them on speakerphone and position your phone such that your lover’s voice seems to be emanating from the walls or from the depths of your closet, you can create the illusion that there’s a pervy, voyeuristic ghost creeping on you while you masturbate. Fear play isn’t everyone’s jam, but it could be a nice make-believe counteragent to the very real fears pervading the globe right now!

 

What COVID-appropriate kinks have you been playing with lately, if any? (“None” is a completely valid answer… Reading the news these days isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac, to say the least.)

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

5 Ways to Unlearn the Anti-Black Whorearchy

Kate Sloan
Remarkable photo by Scarlet Harlot

Racism and sex worker rights are two issues at the forefront of my mind these days, as my social media feeds overflow with white supremacist police violence, loss of income for many due to COVID-19, and the continuing fallout of the whorephobic SESTA/FOSTA laws that make life more difficult for people whose lives were already pretty damn hard.

Recently I listened to a lecture Tina Horn posted to her Why Are People Into That? podcast feed on the topic of the whorearchy – which I knew existed, but hadn’t thought about in much detail before. For those who don’t know, the whorearchy is the abhorrent sociocultural system of biases by which sex workers can be ranked into a hierarchy and then judged based on their place in it. “Trashier,” “sluttier,” more dangerous and/or more stigmatized forms of sex workers tend to end up near the bottom – strippers and street-based escorts come to mind – while those seen as “classier” or less directly/physically involved with their clients tend to be ranked near the top – think webcam performers, sugar babies, and phone sex operators.

While obviously this paradigm is classist, slut-shaming, and whorephobic, it can often be overlooked that it’s also racist, and specifically anti-Black. Clients and fellow sex workers alike can have both overt and covert racist views that affect how Black sex workers are perceived and treated, and what price they can command. As a white person who only dabbles in sex work here and there, I’m going to pull from writing I’ve read from Black women and sex workers, including Daniella Barreto, Jasmine Sankofa, Terri-Jean Bedford, and more, to recommend some ways you can work to unlearn and oppose the anti-Black whorearchy you’ve likely internalized.

Learn about the labor involved in different kinds of sex work.

There seems to be a common sentiment among those who harbor unexamined whorephobia that certain types of sex work are “easy.” This is why, for example, sometimes privileged women will joke that they’ll “just get a sugar daddy” or make an OnlyFans account when they have a few extra bills to pay, as if these roles are easy ones to slip into and start making money from.

In reality, just about every sex worker out there – from a camgirl in her Toronto basement to a stripper in a sticky-floored New York club to the finest luxury escort London has to offer – puts in waaay more work than you probably think. Marketing, grooming, skill-building, fitness maintenance, client relations… These things take a hell of a lot of effort and time. Researching what’s actually involved in the different kinds of sex work – especially the kinds you view, consciously or less so, as “trashy” or “low-class” – will avail you of those misconceptions pretty quick. (Make sure you’re reading accounts written by actual sex workers!)

Shift your language.

I’ve stopped using the word “whore” the way I used to – as synonymous with “slut” – because I’ve learned from sex worker activists that it’s a term used historically to slander and stigmatize sex workers, and thus only they can choose to reclaim it for themselves. Similarly, “ho”/”hoe” is a derivative form of this word which comes from African-American Vernacular English (AAVE) and thus isn’t for white people’s use. (This is just my understanding; those in the know can feel free to correct me on this if I’m wrong.)

There are lots of unsavory slang terms for various types of sex workers, and many of them have a racist tinge (to say the least). If you’re not sure of the best terminology for a particular type of work or worker, look to the writings of the people doing that work and see which terms they prefer and why. Then, commit to shifting the language you use when you talk about these issues.

Write to your political leaders about SESTA/FOSTA.

The laws known as SESTA/FOSTA were ostensibly created to prevent sexual trafficking – but in practice, they’ve mostly just deepened the existing issue of sex workers being unable to safely advertise and conduct their work, online or off. As with pretty much any issue involving legal repercussions or financial disempowerment, this has hit Black sex workers particularly hard, since (as the news lately has loudly echoed for us) the law enforcement system is hugely racist, and Black folks are likelier than white folks to struggle with economic lack and uncertainty.

For this reason, as Amnesty International USA has argued, sex work decriminalization is a racial justice issue, among other things. Write to your political leaders to demand they work to repeal SESTA/FOSTA – or whatever other anti-sex work laws exist where you live. Many people’s lives and livelihoods depend on it.

Call out whorephobic comments when you hear them.

When I was a kid, there was a strip club in my neighborhood, so we drove by it fairly often. My parents were fortunately chill about it, but I often saw people laughing, pointing, and staring at the signage when they walked by, as if the very idea of a stripper was something to be mocked and belittled. People make whorephobic comments all the time, in a wide variety of ways – many of which are subtly or not-so-subtly racist – and a small thing you can do to fight against sex work stigma is to push back when you hear those comments being made.

While some prefer a more direct or aggressive approach, I usually like to respond to these comments calmly, with facts. When someone pityingly or disgustedly describes sex work as “selling [one’s] body,” for example, I like to point out that tons of other workers – including athletes, massage therapists, dancers, and actors – also make money from the ways they use their bodies. Sometimes the simplest rebuttals and reframes can help someone look at sex work in a new light.

Follow more Black sex workers on social media.

The fastest way to comprehend a group of people you don’t know enough about, in my experience, is to surround yourself with those people and listen to them. Even if you don’t think the anti-Black whorearchy informs your perspective, it probably does – and you can shift its insidious influence over time by just spending more time reading the thoughts, opinions, and work of Black sex workers.

I need to do better at this, myself – most of the sex workers I follow are white, so I know I’m only getting a limited view of the industry and the problems within it. The @BlackSexWorkers account is no longer active, but its Following and Followers lists look like a good place to start. Feel free to recommend folks to follow in the comments if there are any Black sex workers you find delightful/enriching to follow!

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own. I donated $50.00 USD/$70.00 CAD of my sponsorship fee for this post to the Black Sex Worker Collective; feel free to match me if you have the means!