So You No Longer Own Your Body: A Sex Worker’s Guide to a Life Without Bodily Autonomy
They told you it was a choice. That you signed the contract, took the money, and walked away with your dignity intact. But dignity doesn’t survive when the state decides what your skin can touch, who can pay to be near you, and when you’re allowed to say no. In places where sex work is criminalized-or worse, regulated into invisibility-your body stops being yours. It becomes a site of control, surveillance, and profit for others. You don’t get to decide when you’re tired. You don’t get to choose your clients. You don’t get to walk away without fear. And if you’re lucky, you might find a quiet corner where someone still calls you by your name.
Some people turn to erotic massage in dubai as a way to survive, not because they want to perform pleasure for strangers, but because the alternatives are worse. Rent is due. A child needs medicine. A visa is about to expire. The system doesn’t care why you’re there. It only cares that you’re visible enough to be policed, and invisible enough to be ignored. In cities where demand outpaces legal options, underground networks thrive. And in those spaces, the line between survival and exploitation blurs until it disappears.
What Happens When Your Body Is No Longer Yours?
Imagine waking up and being told you can’t work unless you submit to a medical exam every week. That you can’t meet clients alone. That you must wear a badge that says "registered worker"-a label that makes you a target, not a protector. That’s what regulation looks like in many places. It doesn’t give you safety. It gives you a paper trail that can be used against you. A license doesn’t protect you from violence. It just makes your work official enough for the police to arrest you if you break one of their unspoken rules.
Sex workers in countries with strict laws often report being forced into unsafe situations because they’re afraid to call the police. If you report a rape, you risk being charged with solicitation. If you report a theft, you’re questioned about your "lifestyle." If you try to organize with others, you’re labeled a criminal network. The law doesn’t protect you. It isolates you.
The Illusion of Choice
"It’s a free market," they say. "You’re just selling a service." But what if the only service you can sell is the one you were taught to hide? What if the only clients who will pay are the ones who treat you like a thing to be used and discarded? What if your "choice" was made when you were 14, with no education, no family, and no one to turn to?
Choice isn’t freedom if every option leads to the same cage. Many sex workers didn’t choose this life because they wanted to. They chose it because they had no other way to pay rent, feed their kids, or escape abuse. And once you’re in, leaving isn’t simple. Banks won’t open accounts. Landlords won’t rent. Employers won’t hire. The stigma doesn’t fade when you stop working. It follows you into every room you enter.
How the System Profits From Your Silence
Think about who benefits when sex work stays hidden. Landlords who rent out rooms to brothels without asking questions. App developers who take 30% of your earnings while offering no protection. Security companies that charge you for "safety training" but never show up when you’re in danger. Even the people who call themselves allies often want you to be quiet, not free.
There’s a whole industry built around the idea that sex work should be controlled, not decriminalized. Pornography companies profit from the same images that get you arrested. Dating apps monetize your loneliness. And in places like Dubai, where demand is high and legal options are nonexistent, services like tantra massage become coded language-ways to talk about intimacy without saying the word out loud. These aren’t healing practices. They’re survival tactics dressed up as luxury.
What Safety Actually Looks Like
Real safety doesn’t come from police raids. It doesn’t come from mandatory registration. It doesn’t come from being told to stay out of certain neighborhoods or avoid certain clients. Real safety comes from being able to work without fear. From knowing that if someone hurts you, the police will listen. From having a bank account, a lease, and a doctor who doesn’t judge you when you walk in the door.
Decriminalization isn’t about legalizing prostitution. It’s about removing the laws that make you vulnerable. It’s about treating sex work like any other job-where you have rights, protections, and the power to say no. In New Zealand, where sex work was decriminalized in 2003, workers report fewer violent incidents, better access to healthcare, and more control over their working conditions. No one is asking them to register. No one is checking their IDs. They’re just allowed to work.
The Cost of Being Invisible
When you’re forced underground, you lose more than your autonomy. You lose your voice. You stop telling your story because no one wants to hear it. You stop trusting people because everyone has an agenda. You stop believing you deserve better because the world has made it clear: you’re not worth protecting.
And yet, here you are. Still showing up. Still working. Still trying to keep your head above water. That’s not weakness. That’s resilience. But resilience shouldn’t be the only thing keeping you alive.
How to Start Reclaiming Your Body
Reclaiming your body doesn’t mean quitting. It means demanding the right to be safe while you work. It means finding other workers and building networks. It means documenting every unsafe interaction. It means refusing to be silenced.
Start small. Find a peer group-even if it’s just one other person you trust. Share numbers. Share locations. Share warnings. Use encrypted apps to communicate. Save receipts. Record names. If you’re in a place where reporting is dangerous, keep your own records. They might be the only evidence you have one day.
And if you’re in a city where services like private massage dubai are quietly offered under the radar, know this: you’re not alone. Thousands of people are doing the same thing-trying to survive in systems designed to erase them. Your body is not theirs to regulate. It never was.
What Comes After Survival?
Survival is not the end goal. Freedom is. And freedom means having options-not just the option to work, but the option to stop. To go to school. To start a business. To move cities. To be seen as a person, not a problem.
There are organizations around the world that support sex workers without judgment. They don’t ask you to quit. They don’t preach morality. They just help you get the documents, the healthcare, the legal advice, and the community you deserve. You don’t have to do this alone. But you have to speak up. Even if it’s just to one person. Even if it’s just once.
Your body was never theirs to own. And it never will be.