Every single time I explain my rates, there's this moment where a potential client decides whether I'm 'worth it'. And by 'it', they mean my entire existence as a trans woman in this industry.
I've been doing this work in London for five years now. I know exactly how my body gets priced differently - how my transness becomes both a fetish and a potential 'problem' for some men. Some clients want the exotic fantasy. Others want to pretend I'm just like any other woman. Neither perspective actually sees me.
Safety isn't just about screening clients, though that matters. It's about understanding how trans sex workers navigate spaces that are constantly trying to erase or sensationalize us. I charge more not because I'm special, but because my labour involves emotional work most cis workers don't have to manage.
My trans community understands this. We share information, watch out for each other. The street doesn't care about your identity theory. It cares about survival.
Clients think they're doing me a favour by being 'interested'. But interest isn't respect. Respect is seeing the whole person.