December 30, 2024 - 10:00am

It’s as predictable as drag queens on the BBC: the moment a woman in the public eye does something lucrative but degrading, she pulls out the “feminist” card. This holds true for Lily Phillips, the OnlyFans performer who hit headlines after a stunt where she allowed 101 men to have sex with her in a single day, and for OnlyFans CEO Keily Blair, who claims that feminism informs her work. But a recent investigation by Reuters has exposed the criminal, monetised misogyny on the site.

The news agency has uncovered numerous cases of sexual slavery, child sexual abuse material and nonconsensual or “revenge” porn on OnlyFans between 2019 and 2024. With nearly 55 million pieces of content uploaded in November alone, the idea that such crimes can be eradicated from the platform seems fanciful. Meanwhile, Blair, who has boasted to audiences of creating a better world for her two daughters, deflects questions about the company’s core business. Oddly, for the head of a $1.3 billion sex megabrand, she describes the term “porn” as “pejorative”.

OnlyFans was founded in 2016 by British entrepreneur Tim Stokely and sold in 2018 to shadowy investor Leonid Radvinsky. Since then, it has paid over $20 billion to its content creators, who now number 4.1 million. The site snaffles a hefty 20% cut — a digital pimp’s commission.

The pandemic triggered a surge in creators, rising from 348,000 in 2019 to over 1.6 million in 2020. Today, competition is fierce. OnlyFans isn’t involved in the messy business of advertising what’s on the site, leaving the young women who sell pornographic content to hawk explicit pictures across social media to drive traffic to their accounts. Puff pieces spotlight the top 0.1% of creators earning over £80,000 a month, but the average creator takes home just $140.

Reuters’s findings would sink an ordinary brand. Journalists unearthed chilling accounts of women “deceived, drugged, terrorised, and sexually enslaved” to create content for the site. In suburban homes across the US, criminals imprisoned, raped and brutalised women, tattooing degrading words such as “dog” and “toy” on their bodies. Yet, despite these revelations, OnlyFans positions itself as a progressive alternative to traditional pornography, with Blair praising the “freedom” it offers creators to define their boundaries.

The most insidious aspect of OnlyFans isn’t the criminal exploitation or the meagre earnings of its creators. It’s the normalisation of a world in which selling sexual performances is routine. In this pornified landscape, objectification is a given, and commodifying sex is marketed as empowerment. As Lily Phillips remarked in a documentary about her tortuous stunt: “Guys are always going to sexualise me, so I may as well try to make a profit off it.”

This sentiment encapsulates the mindset of pornography’s children. Let down by out-of-touch politicians and careless tech bros, they are part of the generation that has been exposed to scenes of choking online before touching another’s lips. For women like Phillips, sex is not an intimate act but a transaction, something done to them, with financial compensation as the only consolation.

OnlyFans is not simply the next iteration of pornography — it’s the natural endpoint of a culture that tells women and girls their worth is in their sex appeal to men, and that this has a price tag. It is a marketplace where the victims of the porn industry’s earlier abuses are trapped in a cycle of selling a digital facsimile of the sexuality that was stolen from them.

The platform may market itself as empowering, but it thrives on exploitation: genuine connection is replaced by commerce. As society continues to embrace this “normal”, the consequences for our collective humanity become harder to ignore. OnlyFans isn’t just a brand — it’s a reflection of pornography’s triumph over love.


Josephine Bartosch is assistant editor at The Critic and co-author of the forthcoming book Pornocracy.

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