Ownership, Judgment, and the Mindfuck of Self-Reflection

Sex work is often a mirror. A harsh, unfiltered, hold-this-up-to-your-face-and-really-look kind of mirror. And for many people—especially those who engage in similar behaviors but don’t claim the title—it’s too much to handle.

I’ve noticed something interesting: Non-sex workers often do the same things sex workers do but for free. They participate in the culture, enjoy the same pleasures, and navigate similar dynamics, yet the moment there’s a slight implication that their actions might overlap with the very thing they judge—boom. Instant emotional shutdown. Full-blown existential crisis.

I recently saw this play out in real time. Someone who lives a promiscuous life became deeply upset when a conversation hit a little too close to home. The moment they had to even consider the idea of, “Wait… maybe I’m a hoe,” their entire identity felt threatened. Not because being sexually liberated is bad, but because the label—one they freely apply to others—was now staring back at them. And that’s the real mindfuck.

The Fear of Seeing Yourself

The judgment of sex workers (or anyone who openly embraces their sexuality) often has less to do with morality and more to do with projection. It’s easy to cast stones when you believe you’re standing on different ground. But when the reality of your own actions starts to blur the lines? That’s when the discomfort sets in.

Sex work forces people to confront the things they’d rather not:

• The transactional nature of all relationships (yes, even the “pure” ones).

• The power of choice and autonomy over one’s body.

• The reality that sex and money have always been intertwined.

• The illusion that respectability can shield you from being judged.

For some, acknowledging these truths feels like a loss of control. It shatters the idea that they are somehow different, above, or more “pure” than those they look down on.

The Power of Ownership

Ownership is where freedom begins. When you own your choices—whether you get paid for them or not—no one can use them against you. That’s the difference between sex workers and those who fear the comparison: We own it.

If you live a sexually liberated life, that’s your business. If you engage in transactional relationships (whether emotional, financial, or otherwise), own that too. The problem arises when people deny, deflect, and judge others for doing the same things they do in different ways.

Sex workers don’t ruin self-actualization—denial does. The inability to sit with your own reflection and acknowledge that maybe, just maybe, you’re not so different from the people you judge is what creates the inner turmoil.

So, what happens when we stop running from the truth? What happens when we embrace our choices, whatever they may be, without shame or hypocrisy?

We find power. We find peace. We find freedom.

Ownership isn’t just about sex work. It’s about everything.

The question is: Are you ready to own yours?