I Was a Pastor. Now I Make Bank on OnlyFans and Have Never Felt More Fulfilled
S ometimes, the culture we are raised in is not conducive to our most authentic selves. Breaking away can be incredibly difficult. It’s easy to stay trapped out of a sense of duty, fear of confrontation, or risk. It can mean losing friends. It can mean leaving your community behind, leaving the comfort of the known for a chance at a better life. But it’s so worth it.
Long before I went viral as the Pastor-turned-Stripper, I was the poster child for abstinence. I was raised in the purity culture movement that swept across the U.S. in the ’90s, and I bought it—hook, line, and sinker. I signed the pledge card that said I was saving my “virginity” for marriage. I wore a purity ring. And when I did have premarital sex, I berated myself as a failure and for being less worthy for my future husband. I felt so guilty for the sex I had in high school (which wasn’t a lot!) that I found myself sobbing on my bedroom floor senior year, begging God to forgive me and pledging myself to God only until marriage.
I went on to be abstinent for the next six years, believing I was doing the right thing—believing that abstinence would absolve me from past indiscretions and prove to my future husband that I still had worth. But in truth, I was afraid. I was afraid of my high sex drive, and subsequently, myself. I became aware of my high sex drive freshman year of high school and had a track record of sleeping with someone on the first date, which violated everything I had been taught by purity culture. I was the very problem purity culture was trying to eradicate. The only solution I knew of at the time for my desires was to not date anyone. But I could only suppress my urges —myself— for so long until they came exploding out. I eventually broke my self-imposed celibacy in my mid-twenties when I slept with someone on a first date, only to be plagued with guilt and shame once again.
I eventually went on to fulfill my “womanly duties” of purity culture and married a man, becoming a stay-at-home mother to our three children. I went to church three times a week, participated in weekly Bible studies, and lived a modest and devout life. I even went on to become a pastor. I preached at my megachurch, held babies in the nursery, volunteered in Sunday school, and spoke at youth group gatherings. All the while, a growing voice inside me became impossible to ignore. This life wasn’t me. For over a decade, I tried to be the good wife, mother, and churchgoer I was taught to be. To deny my own pleasure, place my children above me, and meet my husband’s needs at all times. It was exhausting, demoralizing, and soul-crushing.
It wasn’t until age 32 that I learned I wasn’t straight. I was bi! And not only was I bi, I also desired to share my sexuality with others (and not just my husband). This was a huge pivot in my life. I decided to take the plunge, and left everything I knew (purity culture, my pastoral job, my church, my religion, and eventually my marriage) to find out who I really was. It was the biggest risk I have ever taken for myself, and it was truly life-changing. Instead of being a good girl, I am now a free, naughty woman. Instead of preaching from a pulpit, I take off my clothes and get down and dirty on OnlyFans. Instead of denying my sexuality, I embraced my sluthood. I am now the happiest, healthiest, and wealthiest I have ever been! There is finally congruence. There is integration. There is alignment.
I’m no longer living a fragmented and compartmentalized life riddled with shame, guilt, and fear. I am a free woman who has embraced her sensuality, prioritizes her pleasure, and expresses herself, her body, and her truth freely and unabashedly. My body, pleasure, and autonomy never belonged to anyone but me. My lust has always been a good thing. My queerness has always been a part of me. It just took decades to realize these truths and integrate them into all parts of my life. When we are raised in a culture of purity and shame, the burden is on us to unpack and unlearn what we were taught so we can discover our truth. For me, that looked like stepping away from my church, hiring a life coach, moving to a new state, and giving myself a fresh start.
I needed to be surrounded by people who didn’t know my former self. I needed someone in my life who saw me according to my potential and not my past. I wanted to live in a place that was sex-positive and queer-inclusive. And moving out of the Midwest to Southern California helped me do just that. I now work as a life coach and an online adult performer, and it is the most fulfilling work of my life. My sexuality is not just something that happens once in a while or just with my partner. My sexuality is my framework for how I live, think, and operate in the world. My sexiness is how I make most of my income every month. My pleasure is something I get to share with thousands of people around the world. My sexuality, which was once deemed deviant and threatening, has now become my greatest gift, to both myself and others.
Still, there are moments where my old programming crops up, and I think I might be playing with fire or starting down a slippery slope. (Yay religious indoctrination!) But then I remind myself that my sexuality is a good thing, and I can trust myself. I know what I want and who I am better than anyone, and that includes parents, partners, pastors, and the church. So whether I’m stripping online, going to a sex party, or planning a threesome, I make conscious decisions based on who I am becoming and what I want, rather than on who I once was and what I was taught to stay away from. That is our right, after all.
So, will we let our past dictate our future? Or will we let ourselves forge a new path forward? Will we live in fear? Or will we let the love we have for ourselves build a life where we can share our love with others, in whatever form that takes? Will we deny ourselves our pleasure? Or will we allow our pleasure to be incorporated into our everyday life, in ways big and small? Will we downplay our sexiness? Or will we see our sexuality as the rich and life-giving gift that it is? My hope is that everyone will do the hard but rewarding work of reevaluating what we were taught, releasing what does not serve us, and recognizing that we, alone, know what is best for us. When we do that, we build ourselves a truly beautiful life that allows us to be the most fulfilled, authentic, and actualized version of ourselves.
Published Apr 19, 2022
Updated Apr 18, 2023
Published in Issue XI: Slut
