Entry Point: A Lived Experience

Content note: This personal account discusses suicide, self-harm, substance use, conversion therapy, sexual exploitation and underage sex work.

My first introduction to the sex industry came through the Bible, specifically the story of Jesus washing the feet of a prostitute. Later, it was my dad asking his congregation to sign a petition against New Zealand’s Prostitution Reform Act. In my mind, sex work was something dirty, disgusting, and strictly done by women. Looking back, I can’t judge people who hold those views today; it was exactly what I was taught.

Becoming a sex worker was never in my plans. I attended religious, top-tier state, and private schools where sex work was never spoken about and sex education was practically non-existent. I worked normal teenage jobs in supermarkets, security, hardware stores, and wrapping Christmas presents. I identified as straight, had girlfriends, and used homophobia as a shield to deflect questions about my sexual identity. But when I experimented with my best mate, the truth became undeniable. I was sent to conversion therapy, which only left me more confident of being 'gay'. Self-harm became my primary coping mechanism.

While trauma isn’t the entry point for everyone in the industry, it was a massive catalyst for me. Physical, emotional, and sexual trauma were constant fixtures in my life. The word sorry lost its meaning, simply translating to: “I am going to do this to you again and again.” From my perspective at the time, home no longer felt safe or welcoming. I was sent to boarding school, but that didn’t last long, and I dropped out of high school at 16. What I experienced as "mental health support" included being outed by a youth pastor, conversion therapy and intense prayer rituals.

To self-soothe, I turned to alcohol and cannabis at 14, which consumed most of my paychecks. By 16, that escalated to regular methamphetamine use. The drug was easy to acquire from the trans and female street workers on Karangahape Road. While my mates would wander off with workers, I stayed behind, listening to them talk about the raw realities of street work. Meth didn’t make me hyper-aroused like it did my mates; it just numbed me.

Eventually, life felt entirely meaningless. Ending it felt like my only hope for peace, an idea that quickly turned into a concrete plan. I believed dying was the only way to help both myself and the people around me. I had friends, but their presence wasn't enough to make me want to stay. Overdosing on pills felt like my only escape from an unbearable emotional overload.

I ended up in an ambulance, lying about the fact that the person sitting next to me was partly responsible for my state. At the hospital, I repeated the script my dad gave me: “I was being bullied.” I remember being discharged with little more than the advice to get counselling. There was no follow-up, just an overwhelming feeling of extra eyes watching my every move.

That hospital visit became my launching pad into the commercial sex market at 16. I had no job, and home had been reduced to a bed in my dad’s office space. Self-harm returned as my therapist; the words “fuck da” weren't just carved into my leg, they became my life motto.

I needed cash to buy my way out of that house. I turned to NZ Dating just to see what was out there. Offers of money started coming in immediately, even without a profile picture. I declined almost all of them, but eventually, I said yes to one. It felt simple: instant cash, a quick job, and all I needed to do was receive oral sex. I checked the New Zealand Prostitutes' Collective (NZPC) website beforehand, but couldn't find the practical guidance I was looking for, so I just went through with it. It meant I could escape the hostility at home for the night and lose myself in a green haze.

My first client was a man I met through the dating site. I was 16. He believed I was 18, and I did not correct him. He picked me up in his tow truck and drove to a parking lot. It lasted approximately 10 minutes, and he was respectful throughout.

Afterward, I walked to a mate’s house feeling completely degraded. I promised myself right then that no amount of money was worth that feeling. I decided I’d rather be poor than ever do sex work again.

Under the current Act, section 9 requires both sex workers and clients to take reasonable steps to ensure an appropriate barrier is used for relevant commercial sexual services. Breaching section 9 carries a maximum fine of NZD$2,000. At the time, I had no idea about these legal obligations.

Under New Zealand law, a person under 18 cannot lawfully be used in prostitution. For safeguarding purposes, an under-18 person involved in commercial sexual activity should be understood as a young person at risk of sexual exploitation, not as a lawful sex worker.

What happens when a vulnerable young person can independently access adult commercial-sex markets before they reach 18?

My experience also raises questions about the limits of online age verification and the safeguards available when a vulnerable young person presents themselves as an adult. This is one way a young person can end up sexually exploited before reaching 18.

My experience also exposed a difficult question: how does the law prevent an under-18 person from privately arranging a sexual transaction while presenting themselves as an adult? The law places serious responsibility on the adult, but my experience made me question whether the existing system does enough to prevent young people reaching that point in the first place.

Ultimately, the promise I made to myself that night was broken. The sexual exploitation and violence escalated. Some men appeared particularly interested when they learned or suspected that I was underage. I experienced that attention as deeply disturbing and, at times, fetishistic.

Over time, some of New Zealand’s most influential people became connected to some of my worst experiences and deepest trauma. Some of these matters are now the subject of an ongoing police investigation following evidence I have provided to NZ Police. Because that investigation remains ongoing, I cannot discuss the individuals involved or the evidence in detail.

This is one of the reasons MSWI.net was created. I wanted to build a resource that centred male lived experience while providing practical, accessible information about sexual health, safety, the law, support services and the realities of sex work. My hope is that better information can help people make more informed decisions and, where possible, help vulnerable people find support before they reach the point I did.

Getting Support

If this personal account brings up difficult memories, feelings or experiences, you do not have to deal with them alone. Support is available across Aotearoa.

Trauma and mental health support

Men and Trauma NZ
Specialist trauma support for men, including individual counselling, group therapy and peer support. Support is available in person and online.
0800 636 263

Trauma Recovery Aotearoa
Trauma-informed counselling and recovery support for people across Aotearoa. A first/triage session is free, with flexible koha and subsidised options available for people experiencing financial hardship.

Sexual harm support

Safe to Talk - Sexual Harm Helpline
Free, confidential support and information about sexual harm.
0800 044 334

Text: 4334
Available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.

Tautoko Tāne Aotearoa / Male Survivors Aotearoa
Provides information about support services for male survivors of sexual violence and abuse across Aotearoa.

If you need someone to talk to now

1737 Need to Talk?
Free call or text 1737 anytime to speak with a trained counsellor.

If you are in immediate danger or need urgent medical assistance, call 111.

MSWI.net does not provide crisis counselling or clinical treatment. The organisations listed above are independent services. Please check directly with each provider for current availability, eligibility and fees.