Advocates for a liberal approach to prostitution laws often emphasize the difference between “voluntary” and forced prostitution/trafficking. But can prostitution truly be voluntary? In this text, I draw parallels to my own experience in prostitution, recounting how curiosity and rebellion quickly turned into desperation and coercion, trapping me in a vicious cycle of prostitution and substance abuse.
“There is nothing wrong with prostitution, as long as it’s voluntary” is a phrase I’ve heard far too often. The distinction between so-called “voluntary” prostitution and forced prostitution/trafficking is frequently used by proponents of liberalizing sex purchases. They seek to portray a certain type of prostitution as morally defensible, speaking of women’s agency, presenting prostitution as a choice, or even as a form of sexual liberation. The problem is that “voluntary” prostitution is very rarely truly voluntary. There is almost always some form of coercion involved, even if it’s not exerted by a pimp or human trafficker.
Journalist and author Rachel Moran explains this in her autobiography Paid For: My Journey Through Prostitution. Moran grew up in a dysfunctional family, became homeless at age 14, and soon found herself in prostitution. She writes, “Sometimes it is life that does the coercing.” According to Moran, for something to be considered a choice, there must be other viable options. Most end up in prostitution due to poverty, homelessness, childhood sexual abuse, dysfunctional family situations, intimate partner violence, and so on. Therefore, it’s unspeakable to view prostitution as a choice, as it is almost always a consequence of life circumstances or a last resort in a precarious situation.
I began selling sex myself at age 18. My teenage years were chaotic, and after clashing with my mother, I ran away from home at 15, staying in various places until I got my own apartment a year later. Suddenly, I had no adult to set boundaries and could do whatever I wanted. I partied, used cannabis, and experimented with psychedelics. When one of my closest friends told me he was selling sex, I got curious and decided to try it myself. There were surely circumstances that increased my risk of ending up in prostitution, but I can’t claim that I felt forced when I posted my first ad or met my first john. I had no destructive relationship with sex, my finances were stable, school was going well, and I was close to graduating. I felt curious and rebellious. But does that mean I genuinely consented to prostitution? That I chose it? Moran writes:
“It is not possible to consent to a lifestyle you don’t comprehend. It is only possible to consent to a lifestyle as you imagine it to be, and it is not possible to grasp an accurate comprehension of prostitution until you are already immersed in it.”
After high school, both my drug use and prostitution escalated rapidly as these two destructive forces fed into each other. Drugs became necessary to endure selling sex, and selling sex became necessary to afford drugs. The rebellious feeling I’d had at the start quickly faded, replaced by a desperation for drugs and money. Did I consent to this when I, at 18, met my first exploiter? Could I possibly have understood what a life in prostitution would entail or how it would affect me? How difficult it would be to escape? Of course not.
Proponents of prostitution often talk about it as an agreement between consenting adults, a myth Moran dispels. Most people enter prostitution as children, often in their early teens, making genuine consent impossible. In my case, I was technically an adult, but I was also a lost teenager. The men I met, however, were definitely adults—often twice or three times my age.
Even if I didn’t initially feel forced, prostitution soon became a form of coercion in itself—something I had to do to avoid unbearable withdrawal symptoms or, at times, to afford food and rent. The johns exploited my vulnerability. Those I met regularly knew about my addiction. I often used heroin in their presence to numb myself as much as possible during the assaults. They should have understood that I wasn’t there because I wanted to be.
My story is not unique. Many in prostitution use drugs to endure an unbearable situation, becoming trapped in the same vicious cycle I experienced. Prostitution negatively impacts mental health, social life, and employability, making it difficult to leave. Even if no individual physically holds someone in prostitution, its effects act as a prison in themselves.
After nine years of prostitution and drug addiction, and several failed attempts to leave that life behind, I became so hopeless that I tried to take my own life. Today, I am grateful that the police broke down my apartment door and saved me, helping me rebuild my life. But back then, I saw no other way out.
Regardless of how someone enters prostitution or what keeps them there, the consequences are the same: repeated paid assaults with devastating effects for the person being exploited. Talking about voluntariness not only distorts reality but also shifts blame onto the exploited individual. Moran points out that distinguishing between voluntary and forced prostitution also divides women into guilty and innocent categories. Those of us not forced into prostitution by a pimp or trafficker are seen as complicit in our own exploitation. But who is truly to blame? If we’re going to talk about prostitution as voluntary, perhaps we should turn our attention to the men committing paid assaults. They ALWAYS have a choice.
Tekla, Intern at RealStars
Today, I have been free from addiction and prostitution for three years. I am undergoing trauma therapy at Mikamottagningen. I am the mother of the world’s best two-year-old and am pursuing a master’s degree in human rights. This fall, I’m interning at RealStars, an organization dedicated to promoting equal value for all and ensuring that no one is subjected to sexual exploitation. We are all stars!
Rachel Moran’s book, Paid For: My Journey Through Prostitution, is highly recommended and available for purchase here:
https://www.adlibris.com/se/bok/paid-for-9780717160327?gad_source=1&gclid=Cj0KCQiAsburBhCIARIsAExmsu7zCQfo5cuud5epwb-AV5U1ExSnYHznpzfwWuB9Vuh9iFYD164CWyIaAjJVEALw_wcB