In modern discourse, sex work is increasingly propped up as a form of empowerment. Across social media, it has been exalted as a symbol of sexual independence, autonomy, and liberation. This notion originates from liberal feminist tradition, which centers individual choice as the crux of women’s freedom. In other words, if a woman consents to something, that decision itself should be understood to be empowering. Before pushing back on this idea, however, I must clarify what is meant by “sex work.” The term sex work encompasses a range of activities, which can generally be divided into two categories: direct and indirect sex work. Direct sex work is the exchange of sexual services involving contact for payment, whereas indirect sex work encompasses services that are sexual in nature but do not involve intercourse, such as exotic dancing. My analysis focuses specifically on direct sex work in its most common and traditional form: an exchange in which a man is the client and a woman is the provider. While sex workers deserve dignity, respect and protection, I do not believe the industry itself can honestly be described as empowering, because of its economic inequalities, exploitative nature and gendered structure.

Supporters of sex work often base their arguments around the idea of personal choice. I understand the appeal to this reasoning, as much of the contemporary discourse treats empowerment as synonymous with personal choice. However, empowerment cannot be reduced to choice alone. Feminism has long fought for the right of women to make decisions about our own lives and exercise personal agency. While that is undeniably important, it is also true that no two decisions are born from the same circumstances: a decision made from a place of stability is fundamentally different from one made in financial desperation or instability. In a study of 250 women in Baltimore, 73% of women reported entering the sex trade to get drugs, 36% entered to get basic necessities, and 17% of women entered to support their children or family. These patterns don’t suggest a workforce motivated by empowerment, but by survival. In the U.S., 40% of sex workers are Black, 33% are Latina, and 6% are white. Is sex work truly an exercise of choice when so often it is driven by poverty, trauma, or lack of alternatives? And if it’s so empowering, why does it disproportionately affect the most vulnerable populations?

Furthermore, although the industry is often framed as simply another type of labor, its exploitative nature differentiates it from most kinds of work. Conventional employment requires us to provide our skills or time, while direct sex work sells intimate access to the self. This distinction matters because intimacy isn’t an inconsequential, fungible commodity. Intimacy is a deeply human action that is not interchangeable with other forms of labor because it involves vulnerability and relinquishment of one’s sense of self that can’t be neatly separated from the person providing it. The structure of the industry also matters: men overwhelmingly purchase, and women overwhelmingly provide. This objectification of the sex worker contributes to the objectification of women in general. By transactionally reducing women to their sexual value, it promotes the idea that women’s bodies exist solely for purchase, consumption and male pleasure. Isn’t this what we are fighting against? The question, then, is bigger than individual choice. We can and vehemently should defend the dignity and humanity of women in sex work, but we should also ask whether an industry built on the purchase and exploitation of physical intimacy actually promotes the idea of empowerment.

To be sure, criminalizing sex workers only pushes the issue deeper underground rather than resolving it. Sex workers have a 45% to 75% chance of experiencing physical or sexual violence on the job. But when women fear arrest or punishment, they may not report violence or seek medical care when they need it. At the same time, treating the sex industry as normal labor ignores the economic and social pressures that put these women there in the first place, as well as the risks and harms associated with the industry. The Nordic Model approach—adopted by only one state, Maine, in 2023—attempts to curb the sex industry by decriminalizing the workers and placing legal responsibility on the people who create the demand. Even under ideal conditions, where sex work is regulated and workers are protected, the purchase of a woman’s body for someone else’s pleasure is still, in my opinion, at odds with the idea of liberation. Sex workers deserve safety, dignity, and protection from violence and harm, but an industry that thrives off of exploitation and desperation should not be idealized and celebrated as empowering.