Sex work freed me from being raised in a cult. The only therapy I need is for dealing with hypocritical, cosplay-communist moralists like you—who scream ‘workers of the world unite’ until the worker is a woman profiting off her own body instead of breaking her back for a boss. You don’t hate exploitation, you hate when the exploited get paid. You don’t fight capitalism, you fight women who figured out how to win. Your feminism is just rebranded patriarchy, and your anti-capitalism is a joke—because when faced with a woman who actually owns her labor, you become everything you claim to hate: a bootlicking, worker-hating, puritan hand-wringing about ‘degradation’ like a preacher at a 1950s morality hearing. You’re not a radical, you’re just a misogynist in thrift-store Lenin cosplay, shaking with rage that some of us refused to stay poor, powerless, and begging for your approval. Stay mad, stay broke, and stay out of my way.