(Editor’s Note: Rose is headlining our new contributions to the site. We’ve a slew of new voices that will be appearing here, and it’s my hope that their words encourage you to share your own. If you would like to submit to the site, contact Jack on twitter.)
Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault
Growing up, sex and porn were very weird topics for me. I was a curious kid, and I had a lot of questions about the body and babies and all sorts of things that my parents “would answer when I’m older.” Unfortunately for them (and me), I knew how to use Google and delete my internet history at the age of eight. I discovered porn and sex a lot sooner than I really should’ve. I didn’t know how to handle what I’d found, I just knew that what I saw on that black-and-orange themed site made me feel funny and I kinda liked it. So on the many nights I was left home alone after school, while both my parents worked full time, I would sneak onto the computer and find myself back at those sites I knew I wasn’t supposed to be on.
As an adult, I realize now how that discovery lead to where I am in life now. While I have found that I’m much more open about sexuality and able to explore a lot of things without shame, I also deal with deep self-worth issues and nymphomania. Sex, from a far too young age, became an all-encompassing part of my life that to this day I still feel innately attached to. I think a lot of that, accompanied by years of bullying and sexual assault, can be attributed to being infatuated with sex too early on.
Funny enough, I’m finding a lot of solace in sex work. Being able to control the aspects of my sexuality I present to others, and finding beauty in myself through sex feels like a step in the right direction for me. I know that sex will never be something I can give up entirely, but being able to separate my sexual self from the rest of my persona is an incredibly freeing feeling. Being able to find worth in myself both through sex and outside of it is something I’ve not really been able to experience before. When you’ve been seen as a sex object since the age of seven, it becomes difficult to separate your inherent sexual appeal from your actual worth as an intelligent human being. It’s almost as if I’d forgotten that I’m a fairly skillful writer, or that the art I produce is actually decent, or that I’ve written poetry that made my English teacher cry. I forgot that I actually liked writing poetry. I forgot, because I was so wrapped up in my sexual appeal to others. I was worried that I wasn’t tilting my head at quite the right angle, that my arms were too flabby, that this skirt didn’t show quite the right amount of skin.
Now that I’ve started to create a “mask” for sex work, I’ve been able to funnel all of those worries and insecurities into that side of myself, and leave it all behind when I’m not in front of the camera. When I set that mask aside, I find I can focus on myself as a person far more. I’ve gotten back into things that interest me. I feel like I can express myself a lot more freely. I’m far less worried about how I’m perceived and far more worried about doing what makes me genuinely happy. My sex persona, “Rose,” is not Me. I am not defined by sex. I am not defined by my appeal to others’ gaze. In a way, sex work has been incredibly liberating (even though I do still struggle with all of the societal ideas about sex work and the internal judgement I place on myself for choosing to get into this line of work).
Creating Rose as a separate entity of myself has reminded me that first and foremost I am a human being with thoughts that matter, and I’ve been able to find a lot more fire in my belly than I thought was still there. Even as I write this, someone very close to me has just enlightened me to the fact that I apparently “walk with the confidence of a nerd who can’t be shamed,” and that I have “definite power in my movements.” Needless to say, I’m on the verge of joyful tears.
All my life I’ve been taught to treat the world as if it’s a cold, cruel thing and every person on this Earth is innately looking to bring about my ruin. My father hid me from the world, taught me to scream and fight, reminded me countless times that “all boys want is to get your clothes off.” Living with that sort of mindset for fifteen of my most formative years changed so much of my personality. I used to be a happy, bubbly kid- and as I got older I got so quiet, so skeptical, so afraid of everything and everyone. It didn’t help that at the age of seven, I was a victim of sexual assault, and by age nine a victim of constant bullying. I grew up fearful of the world and how it saw me. That fear was reinforced year after year, as my body grew far faster than I did and the bullying far more cruel. I became obsessed with my body and how it looked at all times. As my chest grew and I went from training bras to a D-cup within the span of about two years, I became acutely aware of the sexuality of my body- all by the 5th grade. Let me tell you, not being able to see your toes in the 5th grade is a nightmare.
I didn’t need to be pinned under equipment in the band room closet, out of view and earshot of the rest of the class, by one of my bullies as he leaned in to kiss me at the ripe age of ten. I didn’t need to be asked by a different bully at recess why I was “fucking my friend” at the age of eleven. I didn’t need to be pinned up against a wall by my best friend’s boyfriend between classes because I told him I wasn’t interested at the age of sixteen. I didn’t need the one person I trusted more than anyone to be the reason I have PTSD at the age of seventeen.
Yet, because I got all of those experiences I didn’t need, now at the age of 20 I force myself to walk bigger than I am, to keep a “resting bitch face” when I walk alone, to never walk alone if I can, even in the daytime; and to always keep a weapon on my person. Because at the age of 20, I refuse to let the shape of my body be an excuse for people to see me as less human.
Becoming a sex worker has helped me cope with a lot of the issues that stemmed from that kind of childhood. That divide between sex and myself has helped me realize that I’m so much more than what those people wanted from me. When you’re constantly exposed to those sorts of desires so young, it feels impossible to peel your self worth away from your value as a sex object. I’m only now starting to do so, years and years later. Seeing sex as “a product I sell” has helped me look at things in a much more objective light, and remove myself from sex emotionally. That isn’t to say that I can’t be romantically sexual with a partner, but it makes it easier to not value myself entirely on whether or not I’m fuckable. Which sounds strange, doesn’t it? I’m in a business where “fuckability” determines the monetary value of my content, and yet I find myself feeling liberated and free of that sort of self-imposed judgement. I can’t say I know exactly why, but that’s been my experience thus far.
I feel like there’s more to say but I can’t manage to bring the thoughts forward enough to process them. So instead I’m going to leave you with this; your past isn’t you. What people have done to you, isn’t you. You are not defined by the marks others have left on you. Scars can heal. And sometimes, exactly the medicine you need is in the most unlikely of places.
Cashapp: $PlayRose