From Oxford to Getting Naked Online
Why I quit my career to become a cam girl
The corner of my Airbnb becomes my stage as I adjust the camera and begin the show. With my youthful face and big smile, I seem innocently endearing.
“You look like a good little choir girl,” types one guest.
“Oh, I’m sure I can be bad”, I reply, my smile coy but practised. And so, we begin the session.
After two hours, I turn off the camera and check my earnings: $186.75. Success here is refreshingly direct — no performance reviews, no ‘synergy meetings,’ just a generous pay cheque for a few fake orgasms.
How I ended up making a living like this is a question that would boggle those who knew me when I was younger. I was always an overachiever, driven by the belief that success meant accumulating accolades — A*s, awards, music diplomas, and eventually a place at Oxford. This relentless pursuit, which began when I was just eleven, gave me a sense of control during an otherwise turbulent childhood marked by parental loss and emigration.
The dreams I once dreamt had come true. After finishing my master’s degree, I landed my first job at a prestigious London think tank, working with governments and civil society organisations on pressing global issues. I wasn’t making a huge amount of money working in the non-profit sector, but my life was a LinkedIn wet dream, and my eleven-year-old self would absolutely have thought I was killing it.
And yet… I was suffocating.
Oxford was meant to open doors, especially for a girl from a working-class background. In a certain way though, it ended up closing them. Suddenly, acceptable options were limited. I felt trapped by expectations, always climbing the ladder because that’s what an Oxford grad is supposed to do. Always having to prove that I was worth the Oxford stamp. Always pursuing the next accomplishment.
My identity and self-worth were tied to my performance, so any lull felt like a failure. I attached my ego to specific outcomes and couldn’t consider other paths. Achieving milestones to match my pedigree was the only option. Only through burnout did I come to realize that I had spent my life building myself a golden cage made of ego and qualifications.
There was another angle to this. I made a trade-off — a job that was ‘interesting’ and ‘valuable’ but didn’t really pay that much. Living in London on a median UK salary is tough, even with lower rent as a property guardian in an unused hospital building. Yet, I was living pay cheque to pay cheque, without being indulgent. I had no prospects of buying a property any time soon, and even renting a one-bedroom flat to myself was off the cards for a good decade. The usual trade-off — sacrificing time and freedom for financial security and abundance — didn’t apply. Like most in London, I was trading time and freedom just to survive, while also sacrificing my mental health and creativity.
In the end, I decided I wasn’t OK with it. I wanted time to heal. To breathe. To meditate. To tend to my passions. To dance. I wanted the freedom to decide where I live, where I work, and at what times of day.
I wanted time to write. My job had me writing every day, but I had only partial influence over the direction of my outputs. Outside of work, I started creative writing. However, working a full-time job that was rather mentally demanding did not lend itself to writing a novel on the side. My ideas, just like my physical body, were begging to be let out of their golden cage.
Above all else, I wanted to travel. It’s part of my compulsion to continuously learn; this now extends to getting to know new people and places. With the post-pandemic shift to flexible working, I thought my employer might have allowed me to work remotely, from abroad, but that was not the case. I felt like a plant that wasn’t getting enough water (oddly, for this rainy country). I was drying up, wilting. I needed my nutritious diet of international street foods, foreign languages, and beautiful temples to blossom.
You may be rolling your eyes. “Of course, everyone wants this. But be realistic…we all have to work’.” We are conditioned to respond this way to someone who asks for more from life than the standard contract. There is something outrageous about a person — especially a woman — saying “I want it all.”
It’s selfish and greedy, right? How dare I?
That, sadly, is what we have to believe in order to discursively prop up an economy that relies on a distortion of the human condition. Because this economy would collapse if we were all free beings, and that idea is terrifying to most of us. But perhaps, just perhaps, it should? An economy that doesn’t have the wellbeing, freedom, and creative expression of all beings as its main goal is not fit for purpose.
Just over a year ago, I decided to have my cake and eat it. To ask for more than the classic tradeoff. I quit my job and became a cam girl. It was hardly what my eleven-year-old self had envisioned, but it was the most efficient way of living the truly, radically free life I wanted.
As a cam girl, I entertain men online through live shows, either one-on-one or in groups. They pay per minute to watch, chat, and make requests, though I control what I do. Some have kinks, such as being humiliated, but most seek predictable acts like dancing, striptease, or self-pleasure with toys, including an interactive vibrator they can pay to activate. Some stay for minutes, others an hour. Some seek intimacy, others a quick release.
By living in low-cost destinations, I drastically reduced my expenses while significantly increasing my hourly rate compared to my old job. A few hours a month of camming allowed me to live comfortably in places like India and Turkey. I may not live lavishly, but I make calculated choices — I choose simple accommodations so I can enjoy local cuisines and indulge my passions.
And what about ambition? That hasn’t gone anywhere. Quitting my job gave me the time I needed to finally draft my first novel. I still aim high, but I also give myself the freedom to explore the world, to dance to my heart’s content, to develop myself spiritually, and, most importantly, to laugh wholeheartedly and breathe deeply.
Do I recommend camming? I’m not sure. It comes with its own challenges, which I will address another time. But I do recommend questioning the status quo, challenging your ego, and dreaming beyond the traditional boundaries.
Don’t just dream big — dream wild, dream weird, and dream on your terms. Ask for a lot from life and arrange it the way you desire. You are the architect; don’t build a cage with your limiting beliefs or your need to toe the line. There should be no ‘done’ way. There should only be ‘your’ way.
