From Huffington Post, Nov 29, 2018: Nobody Would Hire Me Because I Was A Sex Worker. So I Started My Own Company. Written by former Domme Amy Boyajian

• When people ask me how I got into sex work, I say it just happened. To be honest, sex work scared the shit out of me.
• I’d love to say I donned my latex body suit in the name of sexual freedom, feminism or just generally being a badass. The fact is, I entered my career as a dominatrix with sheer terror.
• I do have a lot of privileges in this society (I’m white, cisgendered, able-bodied, etc.), but I was finding it hard to hold down a job because of my immigrant status and mental health. I was living paycheck to paycheck, in a windowless room far off the L train in Brooklyn. My panic attacks came as often as the rats in my kitchen (frequently).  
• My life was vibrant with queer parties and provocative art projects, but it was lacking purpose and direction. Sex work gave me that direction. In fact, it changed my entire life
• I couldn’t fathom the roadblocks sex work would create in my future, but I was finally able to free myself from the anxiety of my credit card getting declined while trying to buy food
• After a few years, I experienced sex worker burnout, a term used to describe the emotional and physical exhaustion and stress from overwork in the sex industry. The job itself was difficult at times, but it wasn’t necessarily the work or the clients that left me feeling this way. The feelings of isolation and loneliness from how I was perceived and treated by others really got to me.
• I became an almost unreal character to other people. To them, my job defined who I was, and I didn’t feel respected as an individual. I was either perceived as dumb for using my body to make money, immoral for having such a profession, or a novelty, like a clown at a party.
• I started to browse hiring websites to look for a job that could help me get out. It was finally when I experienced a horrific act of sexual violence by a police officer, that I called it quits completely.
• I started looking for a new job to refocus my life and my finances. But no matter where I applied, even at “feminist” sex stores or progressive establishments, I was rejected. No matter how I arranged my resume, highlighting my business degree or more than eight years of management experience, whorephobia followed me.
• I had friends who guaranteed me I could get a job at their place of employment, only for them to come back later saying their manager saw my previous job as a “liability.” When I did get an interview, I quickly realized my interviewers simply didn’t understand what my previous work was. A gasp came from a person interviewing me as I explained what a dominatrix is, while another simply ended the conversation on the spot. I found it infuriating that in a society that constantly tells sex workers they need to get a “real” job, nobody would actually give me a chance.
• My boyfriend encouraged me to examine what would truly make me happy and motivated.
• Together we created Wild Flower, which merged a space for sexual learning with resources and products to support that within an inclusive environment.
• It seemed overwhelming at first. But with a few hundred dollars, hours spent creating educational videos, a website, and a passion to help others, Wild Flower emerged and flourished. It has grown to not only support my boyfriend and I financially, but also to reflect the essence of who I am and what I see as the purpose of my life.
• My situation is not typical. Many sex workers, especially those who are transgender and/or people of color, are subject to even worse discrimination and treatment if they chose to leave the industry. As a society, we’re obsessed with sex workers, yet we don’t treat them as humans. We hijack their looks, use their services and imitate their work, yet don’t give them the respect they deserve. We need to do better.