The first time I took a chance at webcamming was back in 2012. I was married, self employed and debt free. I had a t-shirt company that was supported with cash only and I was quickly running out of it, because my husband was spending it all.
I didn't want to go broke so I decided to up the ante by applying for MyFreeCams. He didn't know about it. My original plan was to be a non-nude model. I applied and while I waited for my approval status I watched a couple of models to get a feel of what I needed to do. Some models were fun to watch, others simply bored me. What I did notice while I watched, was that no matter what they were doing, whether interacting with customers or not, they were all being tipped lovely. I wanted in. Not all of them got naked, and they were still being tipped. I knew this would be easy. I have a bubbly personality so surely the customers would like me, right? WRONG.
Once my profile was approved I immediately plotted on broadcasting that night. My plan was to broadcast at night a time when I thought more men would be online. I'm not a night owl, but it seemed like a sensible thing to do. That night I made up my face, put my curly wig on and dressed in my cutest outfit. I went online and smiled. Ready to type and be cute. Talk to men and get to know them. Have an open discussion and build these relationships by making these men trust me during their lonely times. And my tactic worked. Men came to my room and talked with me, a few asked me to take my clothes off. Some even asked if I wanted to go in a private session. I had no idea what that was, so of course I declined. After all, I was new to this scene. I really wanted to be like the girls I'd seen online earlier that day.
Well honey, I was online from sun down to sun up and only earned a nickel. Yes. You've read that right. One nickel. But, I refused to be deterred. I figured it was only the first night and if I just continued to broadcast, I would eventually build more trust and relationships and the money would soon follow. I needed more fans, I needed more men and women alike to like me. I turned my camera off and proceeded to log out of my account when I received an email. I clicked on it curious of its content. In the email a man wrote to me; "Honey, you're gorgeous and all but if you want to make some real money you need to learn how to take your clothes off. I've watched you all night, you only made one nickel. You're Black, sitting there talking and being cute isn't going to earn you any money."
It was in that very moment I'd realized; that the research I thought I was doing the day prior, only pertained to White women. I had only been watching White women. I hadn't taken a peak at one single Black woman's room. I hadn't thought about it being a race thing until I read that email and reminisced on my so called research. I felt like a fool. I felt like a failure, hopeless and dirty. And then I became angry and thought how dare he say that to me. As if getting naked is my only option. But in my heart I knew he was right. It was that funny feeling labeled as "the truth" setting in my belly that consumed me. And I had no one else to blame for not being 1,000 percent sure that what he was saying was true. I needed to find out for myself. Instead, I logged out and went on a hiatus. There was no way in hell I would take my clothes off as a married woman. I needed a break to figure things out. Approximately five months later, I was in the middle of a uncontested divorce.
Let the games begin, I thought.
I didn't want to go broke so I decided to up the ante by applying for MyFreeCams. He didn't know about it. My original plan was to be a non-nude model. I applied and while I waited for my approval status I watched a couple of models to get a feel of what I needed to do. Some models were fun to watch, others simply bored me. What I did notice while I watched, was that no matter what they were doing, whether interacting with customers or not, they were all being tipped lovely. I wanted in. Not all of them got naked, and they were still being tipped. I knew this would be easy. I have a bubbly personality so surely the customers would like me, right? WRONG.
Once my profile was approved I immediately plotted on broadcasting that night. My plan was to broadcast at night a time when I thought more men would be online. I'm not a night owl, but it seemed like a sensible thing to do. That night I made up my face, put my curly wig on and dressed in my cutest outfit. I went online and smiled. Ready to type and be cute. Talk to men and get to know them. Have an open discussion and build these relationships by making these men trust me during their lonely times. And my tactic worked. Men came to my room and talked with me, a few asked me to take my clothes off. Some even asked if I wanted to go in a private session. I had no idea what that was, so of course I declined. After all, I was new to this scene. I really wanted to be like the girls I'd seen online earlier that day.
Well honey, I was online from sun down to sun up and only earned a nickel. Yes. You've read that right. One nickel. But, I refused to be deterred. I figured it was only the first night and if I just continued to broadcast, I would eventually build more trust and relationships and the money would soon follow. I needed more fans, I needed more men and women alike to like me. I turned my camera off and proceeded to log out of my account when I received an email. I clicked on it curious of its content. In the email a man wrote to me; "Honey, you're gorgeous and all but if you want to make some real money you need to learn how to take your clothes off. I've watched you all night, you only made one nickel. You're Black, sitting there talking and being cute isn't going to earn you any money."
It was in that very moment I'd realized; that the research I thought I was doing the day prior, only pertained to White women. I had only been watching White women. I hadn't taken a peak at one single Black woman's room. I hadn't thought about it being a race thing until I read that email and reminisced on my so called research. I felt like a fool. I felt like a failure, hopeless and dirty. And then I became angry and thought how dare he say that to me. As if getting naked is my only option. But in my heart I knew he was right. It was that funny feeling labeled as "the truth" setting in my belly that consumed me. And I had no one else to blame for not being 1,000 percent sure that what he was saying was true. I needed to find out for myself. Instead, I logged out and went on a hiatus. There was no way in hell I would take my clothes off as a married woman. I needed a break to figure things out. Approximately five months later, I was in the middle of a uncontested divorce.
Let the games begin, I thought.
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