Sex Work Is Not Work

The Illusion of “Professionalism” in Sex Work: A Reaction to Wisconsin Tiff’s Viral Surgery Video

By Ximena Rodríguez-López

OnlyFans Model “Wisconsin Tiff” documents her surgery after having anal sex with more than 50 men.

New York, NY - The OnlyFans model “Wisconsin Tiff” recently took to TikTok to document a surgical procedure she had to undergo after participating in a sex scene in which more than 50 men engaged in anal sex with her. The video is surreal, to say the least. In it, she records herself preparing for surgery as if she’s about to get a cavity filled — calm, composed, even a little cheerful. At 37 years old, she states with confidence that she has been having sex for more than 20 years and calls herself an “active professional.”

That last part struck me the most — “professional.” She describes what she did with pride, referring to herself and others like Lily Phillips, another well-known OnlyFans creator, as seasoned workers in a field that should somehow be seen as legitimate. She spoke casually about engaging in an OnlyFans “challenge” in which she slept with over 50 men in one sitting, as if it were a marathon or a record to be proud of. If she were truly a professional — in the sense that professionals understand risk, safety, and sustainability — would she be filming herself in a hospital bed, recovering from surgery due to torn tissue and an anal canal so damaged it required stitches?

The post-surgery clip shows her laying down in bed, face twisted in pain, questioning whether or not she will ever participate in such an act again. And yet, she still carries a strange tone of pride — not regret. It’s almost as if she believes this is some badge of honor. She talks about her surgery like she’s just had a routine dental cleaning, brushing off the trauma and physical cost as the price of doing “business.” But this isn’t business. This is destruction.

I have to be honest: watching a 37-year-old woman boast about her “professionalism” because she’s able to endure sex with more than 50 men back-to-back made me lose hope in where women are going. I’m not sure how to feel after seeing that video — not just because of the sheer physical damage she willingly subjected herself to, but because of how normalized it’s become to present this behavior as empowering, as lucrative, or worse, as aspirational.

Let’s call it what it is: sex work is not real work. Not in the way we define work that sustains life, builds skills, contributes to society, or helps people grow. Sex work is sold to young women as a form of liberation, but what it really offers is fast money in exchange for irreversible emotional, physical, and psychological tolls. This isn’t a “career path” — it’s a coping mechanism for financial instability, validation-seeking, and sometimes, untreated trauma. It’s glamorized self-destruction.

If she didn’t have an audience to brag and complain to, would she even be in this field to begin with? I highly doubt it. She — and others like her — remain in the sex industry not because it fulfills them, but because there’s a transactional loop they can’t exit. From what I’ve seen and heard, many sex workers hate men. They don’t want to be around them. They can’t stand their presence. They tolerate men for the money, for the camera, for the attention — but off the clock, they are tormented by male presence. They loathe male company because it reminds them of what they have to pretend to enjoy every day just to survive.

And this is what truly bothers me — not just the physical risks, but the cultural ripple effect. These women aren’t just selling sex. They’re selling influence. They have female followers, many of whom are young and impressionable. These girls are being seduced into thinking that this is empowerment. That performing painful, degrading acts for money is somehow the modern version of self-determination. Wisconsin Tiff and women like her are not just performers — they are recruiters. They are drawing in a new generation of women to repeat the same cycle, under the illusion that it’s glamorous, profitable, and empowering.

But empowerment doesn’t land you in a hospital bed. Empowerment doesn’t leave you stitched up and wondering if you’ve gone too far. This isn’t a game. This isn’t hustle culture. This is self-harm with a paywall.

The consistency of sex workers on platforms like OnlyFans isn’t driven by a love of the craft — it’s driven by addiction to attention, validation from strangers, and the illusion of control. And the only reason this illusion persists is because we, as a society, continue to treat it as valid “work.”

It’s not. Sex work is not work — it is commodified trauma, repackaged for mass consumption and rebranded as liberation. But what liberation looks like a woman with stitches in her anal canal? What freedom is this, if the body pays such a violent price for validation?

This is not where we were supposed to be going. We’ve reached a point where pain is profitable, and women are applauded for turning their suffering into content. But just because people are watching doesn’t make it worth it. Just because it pays doesn’t make it right. And just because someone smiles through the pain doesn’t mean they’re empowered. We need to stop lying to women. We need to stop calling this “professionalism.” We need to stop pretending that trading your dignity for dollars is a career. It’s not a job. It’s a trap — dressed up in ring lights, filters, and hashtags. And if this is the future we’re selling to young women, then we’ve truly lost our way.