THE LEORA LETTER

Slut-shaming matters because when people are dismissed as sluts, hoes, and thots, they are denied care and compassion as human beings and in a variety of situations, including when they are sexually harassed, sexually assaulted, and need an abortion.

What motivates young women to share provocative images of themselves on public platforms? Teenage girls and women in their twenties repeatedly tell me stories in which an experience of sexual trauma—involving slut-shaming, or harassment, or assault—undergirds the desire to post these images.

Not everyone has experienced sexual trauma, of course, but all young people today grow up in a theater of slut-shaming, dress-coding, and inescapable surveillance; all are shaped in some way by this oppressive environment in which the character of girls and women is judged by physical and sexual appearance.

Isabel, 26, a graduate student in New York City, grew up in North Carolina. She shared her story with me.

Leora: You had a reputation in your high school as a slut. How did this come about?

Isabel: When I was 14, I sent nude selfies to a friend, who then shared them with my boyfriend. He took advantage of the situation to make me dependent on him. He circulated the pictures around the school and then told me, “Look, you need to be with me. You’re so slutty, and no one else would ever want to be with you.” So I stayed with him.

He would grab my body in a very public way in front of the other students. He would touch the insides of my thighs in front of other people to show them that he had that option. Previously that year I had been sexually assaulted at a school dance, so he used these moments to further my reputation and discredit my assault. 

What prompted you to post sexy selfies?

When I was 16, I started posting pictures on Tumblr that I didn’t think were sexual, but I did think they were sexy and hot. I was never completely naked. If I showed my breasts, I would cover my nipples. I posted mirror selfies where I had on a black dress and ripped fishnet tights. I showed cleavage. I thought of them as arty, sensual, personal pictures. I then started posting on Snapchat stories. On these platforms, I basically created a character. I didn’t post photos of myself in my daily life. These were all posed. The people who followed me didn’t know me in real life.

How did you feel about creating and sharing these pictures?

I was looking for a way to express myself. You have to understand that it is very common for young women to share photos like this, including nude photos. Everyone does it. And I liked the way I looked in the pictures. People gave me positive feedback.

I also felt a sense of gratification from being totally in control. Like, if I didn’t want to do it, I could just stop doing it. This was the first time in my life, actually, where I felt fully in control over my life. This was my decision. I felt that I was controlling the ways that other people perceived me. But I also sensed that maybe this was not healthy behavior.

Why wasn’t this healthy?

The people who were following me were strangers. And even before OnlyFans was created, I was selling videos and pictures, beginning when I was 19. I created an Amazon wish list of lingerie and bikinis, and I told my followers, “If you buy me something from my wish list, I’ll send you a photo of myself.” I received so many packages in the mail. That felt good. And all I owed them was one picture.

The bikini pictures, the pictures where you could kind of see my nipples, helped me feel good about myself because I was expressing a style; I was making a statement. These pictures became like a brand for me.

But then I started wondering: Where does my authentic sexuality start and the sexuality that resulted from trauma [of being slut-shamed, in an abusive relationship, and assaulted] end? I know this is an unanswerable question. I know that so much of sexuality is shaped by our experiences, and everyone is shaped by something. Mine is shaped by trauma.

I am very sex-positive and open about my sexuality. But there have been times when I intentionally posted provocative pictures to get a reaction from certain people, or to make someone jealous and text me when I was feeling low. And that is not healthy. That was me seeking validation through my sexuality, and that can put a person in dangerous situations. For example, I needed to make sure that my location [GPS] would be off. And I would get some really aggressive and scary messages from people. I got messages that were threatening. They were strangers but they were real people and they were out there. And I don’t know what they are capable of. It took me a long time to get to the point where I felt it was okay for me to block people.

OnlyFans is hugely popular, which has normalized the idea that women’s bodies should be monetized. What do you think about that normalization?

After OnlyFans was created, a lot of people suggested to me that I go down that road. I did consider it, but I decided not to because, for one thing, creating an OnlyFans is a big time commitment; it’s a lot of work. But also, I knew that if I went down that road, it would make me feel that other people owned a part of me.

One thing I’ve noticed is that OnlyFans makes slut-shaming even more culturally acceptable. I’ve had a lot of conversations with women, including friends, where they are, like, “You should create an OnlyFans! But I would never do that myself.” They are slut-shaming me when they say that.

Interesting—they are positioning themselves as supportive of you for making money off of your sexuality but also distancing themselves from that behavior. They wouldn’t stoop to that level and sully themselves—but you should! I agree with you: That is slut-shaming behavior.

I don’t like the suggestion that sex means nothing to me. I’m still a person, you know. When someone says something like that, it makes me feel that my body is just a commodity, and that is all there is to me. But there is so much more to me. And no one ever says that to guys.

But you did monetize your sexuality when you exchanged nude photos for items off of your Amazon wish list. So why is it unreasonable for someone to suggest that you could monetize your sexuality on OnlyFans?

Because OnlyFans is different. You need a subscription [to access the purchase of photos]. If I had an OnlyFans, I would feel that I owe something to my subscribers. That wouldn’t feel good because it would be putting other people in a position of power. When I got the bikinis from Amazon, I felt that I was in control over the situation.

So if you sold your pictures and videos on a platform where there are people paying a monthly fee to access your content, you would feel you are giving up control, which would not feel good, and that experience could make you feel slutty. Am I summarizing the situation correctly?

Yes. Also, pictures and videos get leaked all the time, and if you have a subscription model, you really have no grounds to complain, since your customers have paid for the content. But the main thing is that I do not want to be known for just this one thing—for being sexy or selling sexy pictures. I don’t want that to be my online identity.

You also have an Instagram. Are the photos you post there different?

Yes. I started that account in my early twenties, and the people who follow me on Instagram know me in real life. My intention with these pictures is totally different, even though I have lots of sexy pictures on my Instagram.

But don’t some of the photos that are on Tumblr and Snapchat versus the ones on Instagram look the same?

For me, they don’t feel the same because I know how I was feeling when I took the pictures. And I feel much better about the ones I took for my Instagram. The intentions and the audiences are different, even if the pictures look more or less the same.

Key takeaway: Sexy selfies can be a sign of feeling secure and confident, but sometimes they are a signal that something is terribly wrong. As Isabel shows, though, in either case, the images may look exactly the same to the viewer. Therefore, we need to look beyond the images and at the circumstances of the creators. Check in on the young women in your life. Build an environment of trust. Are they doing okay?