Are all Women Sex Workers?

Boys didn’t like me much before I was 16 – I had a monobrow and hairy legs. But once I hit 16, things changed for me: my mother allowed me to shape my eyebrows, use eyeliner (on occasion) and wax my legs. I entered my "cute era" and an entire chapter of desirability. Boys started to like me, and obviously, I liked them back.

Being romantically liked by a boy made me feel differently about myself; I felt like I had value. Not that I didn’t already feel valued for other reasons – I was a good athlete and even fairly popular at school. But this value felt different. At around 17, I remember lying in bed, eyes wide open, and thinking: do I “really” like this boy? Or do I just like being liked?

I was aware that many girls and women question what drives them toward a romantic relationship. So the above questions did not feel unusual to me, at the time. But, after spending years in the relationship “market”, these same questions have taken on renewed significance. I now have a greater appreciation of the idea that desirability is a form of “value”, not only in the sense of being socially recognized and appreciated, but in the economic sense of the word.

Looking back, I didn’t find much pleasure in being romantically “liked” (or pursued). However, it was a way for me to gain the kind of power that matters in our society. So here I am writing an article, hoping to understand the ways in which women's sexuality (and mine) is appraised and controlled within the socio-economic system that defines the world we live in.

On Sexual Economics Theory

In my twenties, my interactions with men I flirted with always felt transactional. It seemed like men were constantly seeking something from me, and it quickly became apparent that this “something” was usually sex. But what I didn’t realize at the time was that I was also an active negotiator in this exchange, as I tried – often subconsciously – to determine the “best way” to give sex away. I wasn’t certain what I was getting out of it (it wasn’t sexual pleasure), but I was certainly playing along.

So, you can only imagine how fascinated I was to stumble upon Sexual Economics Theory (SET), which proposes that hetero-sexual flirtation and seduction can be understood as a kind of marketplace, beholden to familiar economic principles such as supply and demand. According to SET, sexual negotiations put women in the role of a merchant who trades sex (or exclusive sexual access) for “goods and services” provided by men: love, commitment, protection, attention, material favors, opportunities, etc.

SET makes the bold claim that sex is a female-controlled commodity, based on the belief that women’s sex drives are weaker than men’s, which gives them control over its supply. In simpler terms, the theory argues that women hold power in sexual relationships with men only because they are less driven by sexual urges. What a way to ruin an interesting argument…

Feminists have critiqued SET for many sound reasons. Firstly, SET reinforces traditional gender roles and stereotypes by portraying men as active pursuers of sex and women as passive gatekeepers with low libidos. This binary view is rooted in sexual essentialism, which treats sexual behaviors, preferences, and identities as biologically determined. However, basing a theory about sexuality on biology is fundamentally flawed, as sexuality varies widely from person to person and is deeply influenced by social norms and cultural practices. As noted by Rubin, “Sexuality is as much a human product as are diets, methods of transportation, systems of etiquette, forms of labor, types of entertainment, processes of production, and modes of oppression.”

Feminists also argue that SET insufficiently addresses the power dynamics that shape sexual relationships. SET views sexual exchange as occurring in a fair and open marketplace, but this marketplace is neither fair nor open—it's complex and restricted. Power imbalances rooted in patriarchy and other social structures, along with capitalism, heavily influence sexual interactions. By relying on economic metaphors, SET overlooks how other forms of power and coercion, including those derived from religious, cultural, and legislative contexts, also influence sexual consent, desire, and agency.

On Being Sexually Smart

SET introduces the idea of treating sex as a marketplace exchange, which can offer valuable insights. However, it then bases the terms of this exchange on biologically essentialist notions of sexual pleasure, which is problematic. Setting aside SET’s sexual essentialism, it remains a valuable model for examining the lived experience of sex within our cultural value system.

Even my own mother had somehow internalized some of the principles prevalent in SET. Her advice to me in my early twenties was to “be smart” about my sexuality and sexual activity. She wasn’t referring to using protection, but rather to not “consuming” too much sex. It’s worth noting that my mom knew I wasn’t a virgin, so she wasn’t talking about preserving my virginity for the highest bidder – which is another sex-related topic for which the economic angle provides useful insight. However, knowing that I was sexually active, she still wanted me to “be smart” about how I consume sex, in order to preserve my value.

I rolled my eyes at her advice, but her words resonated with me nonetheless. I have met many women who – like a younger me – ask themselves or each other “how many men have I/you slept with?” and assess their value accordingly. We find ourselves wondering “is 15 too many?” “What about 10 then?” We even go to the extent of contextualizing those numbers with the passage of time to make them seem more acceptable: “What if it is 5 across 3 years? That’s okay right?” All these calculations and potential justifications are meant to reassure ourselves that we still hold value: “I haven’t exhausted it all – There is something I still can offer to the world, and there is a man out there who will want it.”

On the Illusion of Sexual Freedom

My mother’s logic is supported by psychologists, health magazines, Hollywood films, and studies conducted by dating websites, all of which discuss the threshold or “magic number” beyond which the likelihood of a woman finding a man who would want to marry her significantly drops. Numerous online forums feature questions like “Can you love a girl who has had lots of sexual partners?” with the overwhelming response from men being “no.” Conversely, threads where people discuss "I lie about my body count" are also common, with men typically inflating their numbers to appear more experienced and women trying to deflate theirs to avoid being judged.

Neo-liberal ideologies have peddled the illusion of freedom by granting women the choice to select their (sexual) partners. However, this apparent freedom comes with strings attached. Women’s sexuality is still heavily regulated and scrutinized, as value is assigned based on how sexually active they are. Women's sexual histories are often judged, and their worth in the “commitment market” is calculated according to how much of their sex capital they have expended.

This system maintains control over women's bodies all while giving the appearance of liberation and choice. In reality, women are forced to commodify and calculate the consumption of their sexuality, effectively becoming "sex workers" in a patriarchal economic market that primarily values them through the lens of sexual transactions. Here, "sex workers" refers not to people who work in the adult entertainment industry, but to all women who must use their bodies as a form of capital in order to provide a high-demand product – sex – that is heavily regulated and subjected to moral valuation.

In the patriarchal economic system that prioritizes the nuclear family and heavily relies on women's unpaid labor, particularly post-marriage, a woman's economic worth is constructed to peak in the few years she has before wedlock. During this period, she navigates within strict regulations to sell and negotiate her most prized asset—exclusive access to sex—before tying the knot. Once that ultimate transaction is completed and a woman is married, she is taken off the market, often relegating her to perform unpaid care labor behind closed doors.

On Sexual Liberation being a Collective Project

There is extensive research that assesses women’s sexuality as a kind of asset, as a way to measure their sexual potential within various socio-political and economic contexts. Authors like Ghodsee, Rubin, Foucault, Lorde, Penny and others have explored that correlation and tried to make sense out of it.

For millennia, sex has been manipulated by political agendas aimed at controlling who can engage in it, when it is deemed appropriate, how often it should occur, the motivations behind it, and how to address its outcomes. Sexuality is deeply political, and as with all political matters, women tend to occupy a disadvantaged position. While the pressure to remain a virgin may have diminished in many contexts, women are still judged and valued based on how they trade sex.

In writing such an article, I am not claiming to know the reason why people would have sex in an ideal socio-economic system, or if a single clear reason even exists. However, I am concerned that sex remains deeply taboo, and, like other taboos (such as drugs and gambling), this exacerbates existing market issues. Taboos push transactions into the shadows, creating black markets where traders face pressures from supply and demand, as well as severe punitive measures. This results in a clash between economic and moral systems, worsening the flaws of an already problematic market.

Understanding and addressing these dynamics is crucial for moving towards a more gender-just society. Only by recognizing how women's sexuality is commodified and regulated can we reveal the deep connection between gender justice and economic justice, and take the first steps towards dismantling the structures that perpetuate inequalities.

The views expressed in this article are not necessarily those of the Friedrich-Ebert-Stiftung.