Sex work is a deeply misunderstood yet regularly sensationalised industry, and the latest portrayal by Euphoria creator Sam Levinson’s is laden with harmful stereotypes and misogyny, writes Charli Anderson.
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After a four-year hiatus, HBO’s Euphoria is back, with four of the five women protagonists now involved in sex work. Sam Levinson (the show’s sole writer, creator, director and executive producer) has never shied away from depicting drug addiction, financial desperation or nudity, yet season three feels particularly charged with provocation. Of course, there is no inherent problem with depicting sex work on screen, except for the fact that Levinson is yet to confirm whether he consulted a single sex worker to do so.
To put it plainly, Levinson’s portrayal of sex work is laden with stereotypes and misogyny. Sensationalise he does, as we witness Cassie (Sydney Sweeney) pose as a ‘sexy baby’ for OnlyFans, and Jules (Hunter Schafer) submit dutifully as her sugar daddy mummifies her naked body in plastic wrap - and that’s just the first two episodes. By episode five, Cassie is on podcasts pandering to conservative men to build her presence on OnlyFans, and carelessly signing contracts put to her by exploitative pimps and influencers.
At first, I’ll admit I was torn. Was I witnessing Levinson’s sexual fantasies play out on screen? Or was this a commentary on sex work in the United States? In criminalised regions, like much of the US, conditions are statistically more dangerous and exploitative than in decriminalised contexts. Could Levinson simply be highlighting this reality?
I was so confused by this, in fact, that I threw my laptop to the side, took myself down to my local library and walked out with the incredible Revolting Prostitutes: The Fight for Sex Workers’ Rights, written by sex workers and activists Molly Smith and Juno Mac. Within the first two pages the answer to my conundrum was clear.
Sex work is a deeply misunderstood yet regularly sensationalised industry. Film and television depicting sex work often receive accolades, while the opinions of sex workers are still frequently sidelined. Many debate whether sex work is empowering or exploitative, with feminists occupying space on both sides. Rarely do we hear from sex workers in these conversations.
In an interview with Refinery29, Chloe Cherry, the only former sex worker in Euphoria’s cast, said that when she was “actively working as a porn star, not a single person interviewed [her]”. In a separate clip about her views on sex work in the show, the top comment was, ironically, “right message, wrong messenger”. There is a disconnect here.
Much of the concern online about Levinson’s portrayal of sex work stems from the fact that the depiction is objectifying and degrading to women. I do not deny these concerns, but there is a separate profound problem with Levinson’s depiction of sex work, and that is its impact on sex workers.
As Smith and Mac assert, sex work is, first and foremost, work. Sex work is disproportionately comprised of LGBTQ+ women, undocumented immigrants, disabled women and women of colour. Structural oppression experienced in more regulated industries is a major factor leading many to engage in sex work, and why it is so hard to ‘exit.’ Smith and Mac don’t deny that sex work can be exploitative, but argue that exploitation is exacerbated when it is unregulated and criminalised.
Yet criminalisation is still the norm in the US. Politicians and some anti-sex work activists view the resulting harms of criminalisation on sex workers as merely ‘collateral’ in the bigger project of abolishing the industry for the ‘greater good.’ This language dehumanises the thousands of sex workers who exist today, fighting for decriminalisation and labour rights. Caricatures of sex workers on screen, like Cassie, as ‘exploited’, ‘a woman to be saved’, ‘anti-women’ or as ‘a fame hungry narcissist’ do little to interrogate this political narrative.
So far, it’s difficult to know whether Euphoria’s fictional slice of California exists under the harsh criminal laws that it does in reality. In 2018, President Trump passed the nationwide Fight Online Sex Trafficking Act and Stop Enabling Sex Traffickers Act (FOSTA-SESTA), which makes online platforms liable for the promotion of prostitution and sex trafficking.
In practice, FOSTA-SESTA conflates ‘promotion’ with ‘trafficking’, subjecting sex workers to much harsher penalties. A 2022 survey report by Call Off Your Old Tired Ethics Rhode Island (COYOTE RI) found that the law made conditions worse for most sex workers in the US, highlighting an increase in deportation, exploitation, violence, police brutality and unstable housing.
What Levinson has ultimately done is ignore this reality and instead, depict sex work as a decontextualised industry comprised of money hungry troubled women. No one expects a storyline about FOSTA-SESTA, but we should be able to expect that he doesn’t feed harmful stereotypes. It might not have been Levinson’s intention, yet his apparent failure to consult sex workers has set him on a destructive path.
About the author
Charli Anderson is the founder and producer of From the Diving Board, a podcast unpacking politics and pop culture through a critical feminist lens. Admitted as a lawyer, she has worked across the community legal sector, federal government and academia. Her professional and research experience has shaped a strong interest in preventing gender-based violence through cultural and systemic change. You can find more of her work on Instagram and YouTube.
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What's your definition of "work"?
Read this paper please, the data shows that it's not work, it's basically warfare
https://www.caase.org/mental-health-impacts-of-sex-trade/