“An Emotional Prostitute”

- On emotional labour and bounded authenticity

So because I like, or even even love what I do, I shouldn’t get paid for it? Is this jealousy from people who hate their jobs? - a lack of compersion on our behalf - unimaginable that some of us actually enjoy or jobs…

(And again, I’m not talking about severely compromised situations that forces someone into harmful labour, human exploitation and trafficking)

A frequently asked question; “If you had all the money in the world, you could do whatever you wanted, what would you do?”. People often answer; “Quit my job, travel more… etc”. This is valid off course, but what if I were to say that I’d probably do most of the things i’m currently doing, but maybe less of it, get petter paid for it, make some adjustments to it to, make it even better - that often sparks conversations around my validity. “So, if you love your job so much, why would you need to get paid for it? “. How do you answer that? “Well, I have a rent to pay, I have a nervous system to tend and befriend - which is not possible if I don’t get paid for (the awesome) work I do”.

There’s this common misconception that if you love your job, you never need a break. But even the most meaningful work requires energy, and that energy needs to be recharged. Especially when it comes to emotional labour, whether it’s therapy, nursing, sex work, customer service, activism etc.

It can be both deeply rewarding and incredibly exhausting at the same time, that might be why so many people in emotionally demanding jobs get burned out. Often the boundaries between me and the job, become blurred. Enhancement of boundaries through support and acknowledgment for sure, but also security and proper payment.

Bounded Authenticity

Elizabeth Bernstein, a sociologist known for her research on sex work and emotional labor, introduces key insights in her books Brokered Subjects and Temporarily Yours. In Temporarily Yours she explores the shifting landscape of sex work in late capitalism, particularly how intimacy itself becomes a commodity. She introduces the concept of bounded authenticity, the idea that in certain forms of emotional labor, including sex work, nursing, therapy, and even customer services, workers are expected to perform authentic emotional engagement, but within strict, predefined limits. In Brokered Subjects, Bernstein expands on these ideas, but also incorporates how neoliberal policies shape sex work and social interventions, often paradoxically reinforcing inequalities while claiming to empower individuals. Her work challenges the simplistic notion of autonomy in emotional labor, showing how even when workers exercise agency, their emotional expressions are still shaped and constrained by market forces.

Just an other example

- from my manuscript “An Emotional Prostitue”, that highlights the tension between genuine connection and professional detachment. Ina, a psychologist turned sex worker, navigates this paradox by selling not just time, but also a version of herself that feels more real, but also protected, through constrained and transactional boundaries.

In a cafe, the protagonist Ina (in the future referred to as Sadorexina, when at work(!), and after her alchemical transformation to become a femme-dom practitioner) sits across from her friend, May. May is well-meaning, but doesn’t quite understand Ina, who’s exhausted and frantically trying to explain her self, her way of being, to May.

MAY
But if you love what you do, does it really count as work?

INA
Of course, it does. That’s exactly why it’s work.

MAY (laughs, dismissively)
I just mean… it’s not like rocket science or something. You’re just, you know, interacting with people. Connecting.

INA (leans in, voice sharp but quiet)
It’s not rocket science, it’s neuroscience! Do you know what it feels like to absorb someone’s pain? To hold their trauma in your hands, gently, carefully, like it’s a dying bird? And then do it again. And again. Until you’re so full of other people’s grief you don’t know what’s yours or theirs anymore?

MAY (awkward, unsure)
I mean, yeah, I get it, but -

INA
No, you don’t. I need an emotional exorcism when my vesel is full because I’ve rented out my nervous system to too many people. But you think, because I care, because I’m good at it, that it doesn’t drain me. That I shouldn’t need a break. But even a battery goes flat unless you recharge it.

MAY
Okay, but that’s every job, right?

INA (laughs, but there’s no humor in it)
Sure. But a lot of jobs are done for the day when you leave. I carry mine inside my body-mind, until or unless, I have time and money for that exorcism.

MAY has no response. The silence lingers. Ina knows that this is the end of their friendship, she can’t keep company with this neurotypical specie anymore.