So You've Decided to Stop Sex Work

So you’ve decided you want to stop doing sex work—you want to do something different with your life. The volatility and the emotional whiplash from chasing clients doesn’t feel doable anymore. You’re weary from how the work has reshaped the way you see men, intimacy, and yourself. You have gotten what you want from the experience, you’ve learned what ever lesson it was that you needed to learn, and now you are ready to evolve out sex work/dancing. You are grateful for the experience, but you want to feel normal again. To be normal again. For some, the truth is, there is no going back. You can frame your experience as damage and sit in victimhood indefinitely. Many people do. But it won’t move you anywhere. Forward motion requires will—often an unreasonable amount of it. Years spent dancing in strip clubs changes you permanently. It’s not unlike surviving a cult, a gang, prison, or an abusive home. It’s a membership you may not want, but once you have it, it’s yours—for better or worse. The question isn’t how to erase it. The question is how to integrate it and move forward. 

Many years ago, I attended a doula training. After realizing I couldn’t be an on-call doula, as a single mother of an infant, I decided to open a doula collective with a friend. We called the collective “Love in Transition” a play on the physical state of transition, during child birth (for those of you who don’t know, “transition” is the burning, searing, all encompassing pain of full cervix dilation, just before the pushing stage). Some women desire an experienced female who knows the terrain of childbirth, and can guide them through the brink. Others may want to sit in a creek, surrounded by god and her frogs, alone, and following her own intuition. At any rate, it is a powerful thing, this transition. Whether you traverse it alone, or with a guide. Bringing it back to the idea of integrating and moving forward, well some of us can do it alone, and others need help seeing safety on the other side of the transition. This is why mentorship feels so important to me. Sometimes we need those who have done it first, to guide us through as well.

Here I sit, typing from home, wanting to help other women transition, when in reality its something almost everyone does alone, on their own time, in their own way. I guess I feel like there is a better way. It should be easier. Yes, like birth, you will be doing the hard work yourself, but we will be here for quiet guidance and support if needed. Why? Because I know the pain and alienation I suffered, and because I know how many sex workers there actually are. College kids, moms, teenagers. I feel they could use help. Financially, emotionally, spiritually. Because sex work is like birth work. You are dealing with the most animalistic aspect of the human body (in all of its gruesomeness and beauty), and you are also an energy worker. You are helping others deal with their pains and traumas and lack. You are touched by dark energy from the dark and disturbed men, the ones who have been hurt and want to hurt someone back, and use your body as a means to enact their vengeance. You are a stand -in, a vessel that becomes whatever the purchaser of it desires it to be. Its a lot. Psychologically and spiritually. Sometimes you are lucky and can have amazing conversations and the complexity of humanity unfolds before you, in a way most people seldom get to see. Some of the men you encounter are kind, interesting and good hearted. You probably have developed a lot of empathy for them. Living through this experience of sex work/dancing, truly can give you great insight into humanity, but it can also break you down. Ezili exists as a quiet place to go if you need help on your journey. The remainder of this essay is my advice, for how to begin thinking about your transition.

To do that, you need clarity, so we start with an inventory.

Feel free to take out a pencil and paper and write down the following three headings:

1. Why did I choose sex work in the first place-or maybe it chose you?Be unsparing. When you understand what brought you here, you can understand what keeps you here. Are there needs—emotional, financial, or psychological—that will make leaving difficult? Do you enjoy the lifestyle: the late nights, the drinking, the glamour, the immediate validation? If sex work is the only place those needs are met, any exit plan must account for that. Otherwise, you’ll circle back. Ask yourself: how much do you need to be seen? To be desired? To be placed on a pedestal? These desires are not flaws. They are signals. And understanding them is the first step toward building a life that doesn’t require self-erasure to sustain.

2. What do I genuinely enjoy & what type of life do I want to live?What energizes you? What did you love before adulthood narrowed your options? For many people, childhood interests point toward innate tendencies. Under this heading, be honest about money. How important are comfort, beauty, autonomy, and financial security to you? If they matter deeply, a low-paying job with no growth will only breed resentment. What things are important to me? How do I want my life to play out? Do you want a partnership, children? Imagine who you want to be, and start thinking about what kind of job this version of you could have. You are a co-creator in your life, no matter how much it feels like you are at the mercy of fate. 

3. What support and infrastructure do I actually have?List your people. Friends, family, mentors, therapists. People you are accountable to. Then list your practical resources: childcare, savings, debt, health, stamina. Leaving sex work is rarely a clean break. It’s more like leaving an abusive relationship—it often takes multiple attempts. You need encouragement, accountability, and help. How is your physical and mental health? Are you in a season for something demanding, like medical school? Or is this a moment for a certificate, a bridge job, and stability? 

Three headings. Keep adding to them. Refine them. Let them evolve. This is how you turn longing into a plan. Maybe you don’t have any idea of how you got here, and what you want. Maybe there isn’t a soul in the world you can confide in. That’s okay too. We can be there for you no matter where you are at. At Ezili, we sit with people at these exact crossroads. We help clarify goals, identify obstacles, and build realistic paths forward—step by step, with accountability and care. There are grants, loans, training programs, and unconventional routes forward. When desire is clear and action is consistent, help appears. Leaving sex work is not as simple as stopping. Most people need time, structure, and support. Acknowledging that isn’t weakness. It’s wisdom.

The question isn’t whether another life is possible.

It’s whether you’re ready to build one.