Media Coverage Of Sex Workers Erases Our Voices
By Lily O’Delia
When I say I’m a sex worker, you probably picture one of the stock photos that accompany mainstream articles about sex work: a scantily clad woman with a tight miniskirt and high heels, leaning seductively into a car at nightfall, her face hidden by darkness or hair, her body open to interpretation.
Like most sex workers, I have a far more complex story. Yet the way it’s presented in the media is flat, one-sided, and lacking in nuance. And that’s not just annoying, or sad — it’s also dangerous.
I started sex work because I had to. I was a product of a poverty-stricken broken home, flawed foster care, and youth rehabilitation systems. I never graduated from high school; instead I got my GED when I was 15 and ran away as early as I could to make it on my own. I slept on park benches and in bus stations, camped in national forests, and squatted in abandoned buildings. A friend helped me get a job as a stripper when I was 17 years old to earn income on my own, and I eventually ended up buying a van with the money I earned from dancing. This van became my home so I could continue my nomadic journey, often working at different strip clubs across the country to make extra money.
I often did heroin to get me through the long nights that followed. It helped ease the initial…
