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.
“The rise of chemsex has meant the number of people willing to have sex for drugs has increased.”
“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.
“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.”
