As a Sex Worker, I Didn’t Feel Exploited

As a writer, it’s an expectation

Illustration: Carmen Johns

My first job was working at a daycare for a few hours after school a few times a week. I helped put out snacks, wiped away tears, read them stories, helped with their craft projects. I was 17, and glad to do something with my time that I hoped would help me with employment further down the line. It was unpaid. No one blinked an eye.