Selling My Body For Love

Photo illustration by Breanna McDaniel | VOX Staff

By Name Withheld | Special to VOX

A few years ago I felt that the only thing I needed was the affection of an older man. I never really had anyone to take care of me after my aunt died. So I took refuge where I found it, which happened to be a five-month sexual (and abusive) relationship with an 18-year-old guy I met at school. It didn’t really bother me that he showered me — then just a 14-year-old boy — with presents and attention in return for sex. It was a small price to pay. But eventually the price became too much to afford.

Punished by God? Following the death of my aunt, I felt like God was punishing me for being gay. I was raised in the Christian faith and believed very deeply in God. But after my aunt died, I strayed away in anger from Him because He took so many things away from me and made my life so upsidedown. I moved to Florida to live with my dad because I really had nowhere else to go. My dad has never been supportive of me, and years ago when he found out I was gay he almost sent me off to a military academy to straighten me out. Instead he sent me to live with my aunt, where I had a hard time dealing with the fact that I was gay myself. With my aunt gone, I had no support system. I had no one to talk to. I had no one to assure me everything would be OK.

Finally Being Wanted That’s when I met Alex*. He was a senior at my school in Florida, and he seemed like a really nice guy. His dad was a former professional football player, so Alex had lots of money and a place of his own. We hooked up and he began to lavish me with presents and attention. Alex made me feel wanted. And I believed I didn’t need anyone else. Within weeks, I moved out of my dad’s house and in with Alex. My dad was glad to be rid of me, and Alex lived his father’s guest house. So no one noticed. I was in love with Alex. And I quickly found out that to get whatever I wanted — whether it be attention or material things — all I had to do was have sex with him. At the time, I didn’t think it was such a big deal. I liked being a kept man. I didn’t realize I was being sexually exploited. I thought he was the love of my life, and I’d do anything to keep feeling happy. However, sometimes Alex did make me feel like I was his possession, not his boyfriend. He would yell at me in public and make me feel low. Some nights he made me stay at home while he went out and partied. But he always restored my faith in him by apologizing and giving me some kind of gift. At first, I was naïve about what was going on, but slowly I started to understand that he was manipulating and using me.

From Sex to Violence
Then one night he picked me up from a winter concert where I sang Brahms’ “Requiem.” As we started to drive off, he accused me of flirting with another student after the concert. “I saw you talking to that Jason*,” Alex said somewhat angrily. “What was that about?” I explained to him that I was just congratulating Jason on a job well done. I kind of sensed Alex was jealous, but I didn’t want to tell him and make him any angrier then he already was. It seemed like he wanted to pick a fight with me. But this time I didn’t care about making up and getting a gift. I wanted him to know I wasn’t going to take his crap. So, I got smart with him. “It was nothing,” I said. “Just chill out and stop trying to start something with me.” He responded by hitting me in the face. And I hit back. He pulled the car over and started to beat me. I defended myself and gave as good as I got.

Later on that night, when we were lying in bed together, I knew that something had drastically changed about Alex. He had hit never me before. And this time there was no making up, no apologies from him. I felt alone. I wanted to leave, but I didn’t feel like I had anywhere to go.

I didn’t want to risk losing him or the solid foundation I thought we had built together. I didn’t want to lose what I had worked so hard to attain. But I did realize that most of my time was spent kissing his a** so I would be loved and accepted and not be the object of his anger. I realized that he could drop me in a second for any reason. I realized that I was completely dependent on him.

A few days passed before we got into another nasty fight — about nothing important — and it was really the last straw for me. Alex let his anger get completely out of control, and he stabbed me in the arm with one of the kitchen knives hanging above the stove. I had never been more scared in my life. I wasn’t sure how to deal with a man who I finally discovered was so full of hate and could be capable of so much violence. The next morning when he dropped me off at school I left Florida with only a bookbag full of clothes and the destination of Atlanta in my mind.

Getting Out and Getting Help I arrived in Atlanta not knowing what I was going to do, but I was happy because I felt I had a new start. I got help from YouthPride, a local organization that supports gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, transgender and questioning teens. I also turned myself over to the Department of Family and Children Services who placed me into a foster home. However, when I turned 17, I signed myself out of the DFACS system. My story is a reminder that sexual exploitations come in many different forms. It’s not uncommon for a young adult, teenager or child to find themselves in the same predicament I was in. It doesn’t matter if you’re male or female, straight or gay, rich or poor, innocent or street smart. It can happen to anyone who lets the promise of love, money or just a better life get in the way of his or her best judgment.

Unfortunately, there are not enough pure-minded mentors in our community willing to help young people who have been sexually exploited. Even more so, we as GLBTQ youth must stick together and look out for each other because our stories are often overlooked. There are a few resources in the Atlanta area we can take advantage of if we find ourselves in need (see “Where to Find Help” right) but our best resources are each other.

I found help at a few of these organizations when I didn’t think anyone would care. They put me back on my feet and returned my self-esteem. I have learned that there’s never any good that can come out of having sex to get the things you want. Sexual exploitation is never OK.

If you’re being exploited right now, I encourage you to seek immediate assistance. And if you know a friend who is, help out by telling someone you trust. How can we recognize when friends are being sexual exploited? Well, if they are constantly showing off the latest clothes and electronics — and you know they’re not able to afford them — they may be having sex for money or gifts. I hope that sharing this chapter of my past helps others to better understand the dangers of sexual exploitation and the help that is available. I’ve learned that no matter how bad things look, you can’t give up on life. I’ve also learned that no matter how attractive turning tricks for love or money looks, allowing yourself or your friends to be sexually exploited is never the answer to your problems.

The writer, 17, serves as an assistant program manager at a local youth organization and works as a restaurant host.