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N o 1061 09 J uly 2015
18
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The Stigma
of Sex Work
Fuelled by ignorance, cliché and intolerance, male
sex work is still drenched in stigma. Chris Godfrey
talks to escorts about the trite stereotypes they face
and the impact stigma has on their mental and
physical health.
Even in liberal
, freethinking London, the
male sex worker is still heavily stigmatised. Ignorance,
prejudice and hackneyed media narratives have left
escorts battling against heavily exaggerated caricatures:
the disease-ridden, mentally unstable victim, in the
middle of a meph-induced comedown, the impoverished
sex-addict on his way to a BDSM gangbang.
Certain aspects of these parodies may be true for
some male sex workers (drug usage, for example,
is becoming more of an issue as chemsex grows in
popularity), but for others the reality is far more ‘vanilla’.
Regardless, all have to live under the lingering stigma
that’s perpetuated by such aggressive stereotyping, one
that has huge consequences for physical health, mental
well-being and future opportunities.
“I think that media over
the years has really painted
a picture of sex work and
how nasty a lot of it can
be,” says Paul Doyle, the
addiction liaison at the
Terrance Higgins Trust’s
SWISH Project, which
supports those working
in the sex industry. After
leaving sex work, Doyle
qualified as a drug and
alcohol therapist and now works with those in the industry
looking for help overcoming their addictions.
“I think we’ve heard so much about trafficking and the
abuse of sex workers over the years, but actually we don’t
really see anything like that within the LGBT community,”
he continues. “And the stigma from the gay male
population towards sex work is still extremely negative. A
lot of that is more down to people not understanding the
type of work that it really is.”
Despite the name, sex work isn’t necessarily sexual:
many escorts are contacted for platonic companionship,
for attending events, dinner dates, sometimes even just
to chat. General ignorance though means many view
escorting almost exclusively through a sexual lens, and
often as something unclean and taboo.
“It’s either vile disgusting sex worker or the victim.
But I had a lot of positive experiences as a sex worker,”
says Oliver*, now retired from escorting. Though he’s
made a successful career working as a film director, the
stigma associated with having once been an escort is so
strong he insists on using a fake name. And while he’s
aware of the damage stigma has on those still in the
industry, even he can’t rid himself
entirely of judgement.
“I went in by choice; it wasn’t
in anyway to feed an addiction or
anything like that,” says Oliver.
“I wanted to save up a deposit
to buy a place, which I achieved,
and that’s why I wanted to do sex
work. No one should be afraid
to be a sex worker or be afraid
to admit they’re a sex worker, but
on the other hand I always think
I’m being hypocritical: if I had a child I would not want to
know that they’re engaged in a life as a sex worker.”
You need only look at the impact stigma still has on
HIV positive people to see how damaging it can be:
prejudice, reinforced social inequality and discrimination
are just few of the issues many still face. But while it’s
now widely recognised that we need to banish the
stigma around HIV, any meaningful work to erase the
stereotypes that pervade male sex work has yet to start.
As it stands, even the client is a victim of stigma, usually
mocked or branded as a dirty old man.
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“People tend to concentrate on sex workers and think
it’s all about sex,” says Oliver. “No. The clients I saw they
either got married in a time where it was illegal to be
gay, or they’re discovering their sexuality, or they’d either
had an operation, been ill, living with the HIV virus and
too scared to go out there because of the stigma that
surrounds HIV. So they felt safe.”
The rise of chemsex has meant the number of people
willing to have sex for drugs has increased. Many of those
engaging in this don’t realise it’s also classified as sex
work - a mark of how easy it is to unconsciously enter
the industry. But though chemsex is becoming a more
common request of escorts, the stigma surrounding drugs
also contributes to people’s egregious assumptions.
“We all have our morals or whatever and they see that
as a moral,” says Steve*, who, like Oliver, has now moved
on from escorting. “There are a lot of people that would
go: ‘ok sure we’ve all done things, we’ve all got skeletons
in the cupboard,’ and move on. But there are a lot of
people that would think, ‘sex workers: they’re gonna stab
me, they’re into drugs.’ It’s all in the subconscious. Oh,
he’s had a lot of sex with men, he’s probably got AIDS or
something wrong with him.”
Portraying the male sex worker as the victim is one
of the more common narratives pedalled by the media.
But while there are those who enter the industry as a
last resort or through coercion, maybe even to fuel an
addiction, for many others it’s a conscious decision and
not something they regret.
“I don’t see myself as a victim, I’ve ended up doing
it because of circumstance, but I’m not doing it for
necessity, I’m choosing to do it,” says Gabriel*, 29,
who’s been escorting for much of his twenties. “I do
really quite well from it: I travel quite well with it, I travel
to a lot of clients, I primarily stay in London but I have a
really nice cache of clients and at the moment I’m doing
it out of choice and not necessity.”
As well as a detrimental impact to an escort’s mental
health, stigma can also have a physical impact. The nature
of the work means regular sexual health screening is
imperative, but a shortage of non-judgemental services,
those which are trained to understand the nature of sex
work, means many shirk getting tested to avoid the probing
questions and sanctimonious attitudes they come with.
I don’t see myself as a victim,
I’ve ended up doing it because of
circumstance, but I’m not doing it
for necessity, I’m choosing to do it.
“If you go to a normal clinic it’s kind of a thing of they
start asking about sexual partners and how many have
you had in the last few months, and it’s like ‘I have no
idea’, it doesn’t tend to be something I try and think about
to be perfectly honest,” says Gabriel.
The stigma of sex work also presents a significant
hurdle to those looking to move out of the industry. There
are those who use sex work to supplement their income,
but for others it’s a fulltime occupation. When the time
comes to explore new opportunities, listing sex work on a
CV will likely negate any chances of a callback. As Oliver
jokingly puts it: “they wouldn’t be keen to know one was
fisting for money.” The alternative – omission – leaves
interviewees struggling to explain lengthy ‘career gaps’ to
prospective employers.
“When I talk to my clients a lot of them will be saying
to me their job is almost like being a social worker or
a counsellor,” says SWISH’s
Paul Doyle. “That’s why
when we look at sex workers
leaving the industry…a lot
of them will look at going
into the care industry, animal
care or counselling, possibly
drug work.”
As rare oasis of
understanding for escorts,
the SWISH project has
helped many escorts move
on from the industry, whether it’s fitness related roles,
like personal fitness instructors and masseurs, or
care-orientated professions. But for many of the more
established escorts the idea of leaving altogether is non-
starter, regardless of the persistency of stigma.
“It is much more difficult than people would
necessarily expect to move on from once you’ve been
doing it for a while,” says Gabriel. “It’s something that
I’ve toyed with and tried to do every now and again but
I’ve found it very difficult to transition out of escorting.
Money, lifestyle, it’s difficult to go back to working
for someone else which is quite a big thing. It’s not
something I’m ready to commit to yet.”
The rise of chemsex has
meant the number of
people willing to have sex
for drugs has increased.
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Survival of the Bravest
Survivors UK is the only male-centric service offering help, counselling and
therapeutic services to survivors of male rape and sexual abuse. Its funding has
recently come under threat. Patrick Cash speaks to those who use the service to find
out how vital the charity’s work is in helping all men deal with abuse.
Michael
My father sexually abused me at around nine
years old.
When I moved down to London I found some
information about Survivors UK and their services.
The fact that it’s an organisation focused only on
male survivors is helpful to men looking for help;
there’s still more social recognition of women and
girls as victims of sexual abuse, and so men can
sometimes think that they need to cope with abuse
on their own.
I got some help with a Survivors UK counsellor -
just the chance to talk to someone who you know is
going to understand and appreciate that boys and
men can be victims of sexual abuse, and the impact
this can have, is very helpful, often after years of
trying to cope on your own.
In one sense recovery never stops, but even a
few months of counselling and support can make
a massive difference to your life. You no longer
feel like you’re the only man it’s happened to, and
the way that abuse has impacted on you is quite
common and shared by other survivors.
There’s still a view that men (or boys) can’t really
be victims - why didn’t they fight it? - and it’s still
difficult for many men to admit ‘weakness’, that they
might be struggling to cope with earlier experiences,
or that they might need help. Hopefully that’s
changing though.
I would say to anybody else in my situation: you
can get help and you can feel better.
Ben
I was 36 when I was raped. I didn’t know my attacker, and I don’t know if they were
straight, gay, or bi.
I was attacked just before Christmas 2007. That Christmas didn’t really happen
for me, I was dealing with the immediate consequences of the rape, and I was on
PEP, which made me quite ill. The following Christmases became really painful. Most
of the time I’d just drink my way through to the New Year. In Christmas 2011, four
years after the attack, it wasn’t getting any better.
One day I just walked out of work and carried on walking. I ended up half
way across London, sat in Bishops Square watching everyone getting ready for
Christmas, going drinking, with people they loved, laughing and enjoying life, and I
sat there, crying. I’d never felt so alone in my life.
I wanted it all to end. I didn’t want to have to face another Christmas re-living
what had happened, facing up to the guilt, shame, and solitude. I couldn’t face work,
I couldn’t face people, and I couldn’t even face drinking it away because I knew it
was just destructive and that made me hate myself even more. I didn’t go back to
work that year, I plastered on the fake smile I carried everywhere with me, and made
some excuse up as to why I needed time away.
I’d found SurvivorsUK’s website, and finally called them.
Immediately I felt that someone was listening to me, but more importantly that
they understood what was going on for me. I knew that they provided both personal
and group therapy. I originally wanted group therapy as I wanted to hear someone
else tell a similar story, I wanted to know that I wasn’t the only person this had
happened to.
I was asked to come in for an assessment, and because of my particular
circumstances they thought I was more suited to personal therapy. I was in luck, as
a therapist had an opening a couple of weeks later, and that’s where the eighteen
months of therapy started. The weekly counselling I received helped me rationalise
what had happened, the guilt I felt, the anger that had been boiling inside me, and
work through it to a point where I felt self sufficient and was able to say I didn’t need
to see my counsellor anymore.
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Michael May, senior manager at Survivors UK
Survivors UK was set up in 1986 by two men who worked on the
Lesbian and Gay Switchboard and received a number of calls from
men who had experienced rape or sexual abuse and had nowhere
to turn. The service started as a telephone helpline run from the
spare bedrooms of their flats. In 1999 they got some funding to
start delivering group support and from that, the direct services of
Survivors UK were born.
Since then the service has grown to include face-to-face
counselling for up to 2 years (with up to 55 clients being seen at
any time) and weekly group therapy. We recently transformed our
telephone helpline to a digital one
using web and text chat to ensure
that the service could be free to
anyone with an internet connection
and to try to reach a younger service
user group.
The new helpline services are
being funded by the Ministry of
Justice and are available for 72
hours per week, more than any
other sexual violence support
nationally. We get around 180
referrals for counselling and group
work per year and take between
70 to 100 men into the service. We are the only male specialists
counselling services for male victims of sexual abuse in London.
We are reluctant to talk about sexual abuse and men as a
society because men hold a certain place in our thinking - we rely
on them to do hard jobs and to anchor our thoughts about the
masculine. Rape and sexual abuse are by definition acts in which
a person is robbed of their power so to see men as powerless is a
threat to our own security and safety.
We are the only
male specialists
counselling
services for male
victims of sexual
abuse in London
You can reach Survivors UK via their website
or by calling 0203 598 3898
And if you would like to help Survivors UK and their valuable work in
any way, then visit: www.survivors.org.uk/get-involved/
The Home Office Crime Reports estimates
there are 2 million adult male survivors of
sexual violation in the UK. Survivors UK
currently assesses more than 150 people
per year for counselling services for
counselling services and receives more
than 2500 calls to their helplines.
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