I’m a retired nurse and academic. I’m also a sex worker

When I first interviewed women for my PhD thesis about buying sexual services, I was struck by their new-found sexual power. These women had identified, prioritised and taken the courage to satisfy their sexual needs. They bought sexual services for the same reasons men do – to practise and learn sexual, relationship and consent skills; to experience physical and emotional intimacy; and to have a rocking good-ol-time!

“My lifelong interest in sex has enabled me to transcend society: from the lowest sexually shamed woman to the highest professional.”Credit: ISTOCK

I’ve interviewed many women since, some who felt sexually powerful and others who didn’t, and I could clearly see a link between feelings of sexual empowerment and the confidence to challenge outdated courtship rules. Each culture has rules about what good sex is and how women are supposed to behave sexually, and this has created a power imbalance that harms us all.

When I started writing my book, Slutdom, about the way sexually empowered women refuse to be slut-shamed, I felt fraudulent because I had been hiding 20 years of feeling sexually powerful, hiding 20 years of my own slutdom.

The truth is, I’m just a granny from the suburbs – a retired nurse, sexuality counsellor and academic. But I had been hiding a big secret. I had been concealing my experience as a sex worker. I loved, and still love, being a sex worker. Sex work paid the bills while I solo-parented four daughters, keeping them in middle-class comfort. Sex work funded and informed my sexology and academic careers.

I was 36 years old when I started. By then, I had decades of negative stereotypes about sex workers onboard and believed that I must keep the secret to protect my family. I didn’t want them to experience the harsh judgment, stigma and discrimination that women who dare to use their sexuality for profit endure.

But, as I was researching women’s sex lives, I realised that the tremendous sexual power I commanded privately was being negated by this secret. Slut-shaming kept me in the closet and prevented me from sharing the benefits of feeling sexually powerful from primal experience.

Dr Hilary Caldwell: “My interest in sex has also given me permission to enjoy my body.”

This very dichotomy gave me a particular perspective that I now realise other women, including my four daughters, can benefit from. I wanted to stand up and fight back against sexual shaming, so I decided to “come out” through telling my story. I wanted to reclaim the word “slut” and make it a positive expression, rather than a derogatory label that makes women feel ashamed of their sex drive.

My interest in sex has also given me permission to enjoy my body, and I wish for all people to have equal opportunity to enjoy their bodies. Sex is good for you. I mean, even the World Health Organisation has made a statement that sexual pleasure is a human right that all people should have equal access to. But even in a country as progressive and privileged as Australia, men and women are socialised to be ashamed of sexuality in ways that keep women passive to men’s sexual demands.

The rape culture that results means many women are busy trying to keep themselves safe from physical and emotional harm, and safe from slut-shaming, while they are also trying to enjoy sex to the same degree as men. Sexy business is serious business for our health and wellbeing because sexual release is an onboard system of antidepressant and anti-anxiety medication, and good sex is deliciously and delightfully fun.

Working in the sex industry has taught me that sex work is humanitarian work. Sex and romantic love are seen as mutually inclusive in our culture, and without sex, many people do feel unloved. Some clients sob uncontrollably when held close and naked intimacy and orgasms prompt shared confidences. It is during sex that we are most human. Like all sex, commercial sexual services can be emotionally and physically intimate – tender, loving, joyous, ribald, raucous, as well as a therapeutic sport.

I often wonder why my gym mates don’t throw in a plug for sex while we sip coffee and feel smug about exercising. Having sex brings all the benefits of exercise and so much more, but few dare to suggest it. And as someone who has had a lot of sex in different ways with different people, I can honestly say that commercial sex is not less beneficial to me or my clients than it is for me or my lovers. But I would be less than honest if I didn’t point out that specifically meeting someone for sex, to experience pleasures of the flesh, can also be mind-blowingly transformative.

My lifelong interest in sex has enabled me to transcend society: from the lowest sexually shamed woman to the highest professional and academic achievements. I’ve learnt that fear of being branded a slut or a whore keeps women subservient to men; every instance of slut-shaming then becomes a point scored for the patriarchy. This kind of shame prevents women from exploring their own desires. When women are enjoying better sex, the people they have sex with also benefit. Sexual equality is good for everyone.

Slutdom: Reclaiming shame-free sexuality (UQP) by Dr Hilary Caldwell is out July 2.