Sex workers have a role to play in making the world a better place. But it’s not easy.
Two years ago, midway through the COVID pandemic, I started an online business. After experiencing firsthand how easily ignorance of the sex industry could lead to difficult, draining behaviour from clients, I built an online resource that could educate the world about the benefits of seeing sex workers. The result was The Satisfaction Project, a website that’s educated hundreds of thousands of potential sex work customers.
Setting up the site, wrestling with regulatory requirements, and building a scalable business model, were all huge challenges. I drew on every resource I had, consulting with friends who work in sales and marketing, web development, startup funding, legal, and more. I’ve been extraordinarily privileged to have access to some amazing people who were endlessly generous with their time and expertise. However, I also discovered that although the project was enthusiastically supported, it wasn’t always understood.
At one stage, I was invited to engage with a business mentor online - a tech expert, someone who’d worked at the helm of numerous successful start-ups. Our first session was intended to find out whether we were well-suited to each other.
It started out well enough. “Tell me a bit about yourself,” he said.
I stumbled through my backstory, sweaty-palmed and awkward. When I got to the bit about educating my clients, he looked a bit surprised. Surely he already knew what kind of business I was running? As someone who lives by the motto ‘do your research’, I’d already spent some time prepping for this meeting, reading up on my potential mentor’s career. I’d assumed he’d done the same for me.
But as he began to talk faster, I wondered if he’d been caught off guard. It’s something I’ve experienced many times when disclosing I’m a sex worker: that panicked facial expression, and the rapid speech of someone who’s trying to process an uncomfortable experience.
Instead of us having a discussion, I found myself on the receiving end of some very basic marketing advice. Things like, “You need to know your customers,” and, “You need to figure out who is most likely to buy from you.”
As someone with a decade’s experience in communications, I was frustrated to receive an entry-level explanation of marketing from someone who hadn’t checked whether I was already familiar with these concepts. I wanted to scream, “Of course I know my target market! I’ve literally seen them naked!” But the vibe was weird enough; I didn’t want to make it worse. I’m still not entirely sure why he felt I needed a business lecture. Perhaps most founders lack knowledge of these basic business concepts? Or did my mentor assume I was ignorant because I’m a sex worker? I’ll never know for sure, but the suspicion is there.
Historically, sex work and tech have a long relationship. Sex has pushed the limits of technology: we need more bandwidth and faster download speeds to get those porn vids! We want online payment processing so we can sign up for content sites! Sex sells, and it’s made the Internet what it is today. But nowadays, many of these modern conveniences have been sanitised and taken away from very industry that pioneered those services. Sex workers can’t take credit card payments, use popular online payment platforms, or host our sites with the big providers. Increasingly, we’re struggling to exist on the Internet at all, banned from social media platforms, dating sites, and other online spaces. Much of this is due to post-FOSTA-SESTA censorship and excessive hand-wringing about online safety, but many companies also use these issues to support their pre-existing puritan biases. ‘Won’t somebody think of the children?’ Meanwhile, everyone else enjoys the benefits of the online services that we helped establish.
Enter sextech: technology-driven ventures that are designed to enhance and innovate in the field of human sexuality. Sextech is something of a buzzword at the moment. Often, these enterprises are founded by sex educators, sexual wellness experts, and other folks whose expertise was previously undervalued by society. Their projects are gaining media attention and benefiting from increased legitimacy as the world comes to understand the importance of sexual expression and sexual health.
As the ultimate sex experts, sex workers have a role to play in the booming sextech space. Sex workers are best placed to fill the gaps that can’t be covered by outside sex educators, designers, and wellness professionals. Escort advertising platforms, owner-run adult content sites, sex education initiatives - sex workers are uniquely placed to provide these services in sex-positive, inclusive ways that don’t bring all that shamey, whorephobic baggage we often see when outsiders attempt the same. The phrase ‘Nothing about us without us’ applies to tech startups too - without a sex worker at the helm, or even in the room, there’s a slim chance that a sex-industry-focused business idea, no matter how innovative, will work.
But when it comes to sextech, sex workers are often excluded. Tech folks tend to be liberal in their politics and have an enthusiasm for ‘disruptive’ ideas, but when sex workers are involved, they often don’t know enough about the issues to engage with us appropriately. If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me, “Have you tried Facebook Ads?” I’d be rich already. Instead, I’m left scrambling to find solutions that are accessible to me, unable to rely on the advice of more experienced entrepreneurs because they don’t realise how many barriers I face. They simply don’t get it.
I attended a sextech showcase last year that was sponsored by a well-known online payment processor - one that’s notorious for kicking sex workers (or any sex-related businesses, for that matter) off its platform. Another sponsor, a large web hosting company, is known for removing sex-work-related content, thanks in part to the FOSTA-SESTA laws in the USA. It’s ironic that the very businesses clamouring to get involved in sextech are also responsible for discriminating against the people who drive it.
To get the job done, sex workers need support from the tech industry. We need the expertise of people who have been doing this stuff for years, people with coding and data security chops, people who are experienced at bringing new ideas to market. We need people who are genuinely excited about sextech and sex work. We need people who will listen to us and offer insight, while still acknowledging our expertise.
But there’s a lot of work to do if that partnership is to succeed. Before it can truly be of use to us, the tech industry needs to learn more about sex work - censorship, law, decrim, stigma. If you don’t understand what sex workers face in terms of discrimination, surveillance, and censorship, you won’t be able to help.
And, on a personal level, the people in tech that interact with sex workers need to make an effort to undo their own sex-negativity and whorephobia. Devs and tech entrepreneurs have a reputation for being innovative and libertarian. But, as is often the way of libertarians, they sometimes focus on their own liberty at the expense of others. A lack of sex education can be a huge problem, especially in such a male-dominated industry. If the developer that I’m hiring, for example, hasn’t had much experience with sex pros, and was raised to be critical of the sexual behaviour of female-presenting people, he’ll struggle with his own prejudices. Aside from making me feel uncomfortable, it also means we can’t get things done efficiently.
It’s not all bad news. Increasingly, organisations are recognising the expertise that sex workers can bring to the table. Future of Sex - an orgnaisation that explores the intersection of sex, technology, and wellbeing - often includes sex worker academics and entrepreneurs in its enterprises.
And, late last year, I was lucky enough to have an overwhelmingly positive experience with a tech company. An Australian tech consultancy generously offered me its time and expertise to help solve some of the problems faced by my business. I was matched with a team of analysts from diverse backgrounds, who committed themselves to understanding the discrimination that sex workers face. Together, we found solutions to some of the problems I’d been wrestling with - and it kept my business running. It was an opportunity for me to acquire some of the skills required to run a successful startup and for their organisation to explore the unique challenges faced by the sex industry. There’s so much to be learned from each other, if only we take the time to have that two-way discussion!
As online censorship increases, the need for sex-positive products and services is greater than ever. We need to work together to keep the door wedged open for sextech ventures of all kinds. But supporting sextech is about more than just championing sex educators and sex toy designers - we need to recognise the value of sex workers too. Only then can we build businesses that advocate for sex-positivity and the human rights of everyone who engages in consensual sexual activity.
Although sex workers have a lot to offer, our contributions will be lost if we don’t get the support we need. In short, we need allyship. We need collaboration. And we need it now.
