There's a strange negotiation that happens every time I step into a hotel lobby or upscale Dublin bar. Not just the usual work dynamics, but something deeper about skin and perception. I'm Nigerian-Irish, which means I inhabit multiple worlds simultaneously - and nowhere is that more complicated than in sex work.
White clients have... expectations. Sometimes they're fetishistic, sometimes they're unconsciously racist. The exotic fantasy versus the real human being. I've learned to read the micro-expressions, the slight shifts in body language that tell me exactly how they see me.
Dublin's changed so much in the last decade. Multicultural now, but the old power structures persist. In this industry, those structures are laid bare in the most intimate possible way. Who gets selected. Who gets passed over. Who's seen as a commodity versus a person.
I don't play victim. I navigate these spaces with intelligence and self-protection. But I also won't pretend the racial dynamics aren't real. They absolutely are.
Some nights it feels like a complex dance. Other nights it just feels exhausting.