The Incident With Patreon

or, How Patreon Mishandled Me

Setting The Scene

I've tried to write this post many times. Each time, the wound was still too raw. But I want there to be an account of what Patreon did to me - told from my perspective - because the way they treated me was not only unethical, but unacceptable in a civilized society. I don't want to allow their behavior to be swept under the rug - as countless creators (including nude artists) still use the platform, feeding a behemoth that may tolerate them at their convenience, exploiting their labor for personal gain, but in truth cares no more for them, or the value of the art they produce, than a fly on its back.

One of the reasons this post is so hard to write is that I have to provide a proper context for my experience - without, obviously, writing a full autobiography. Otherwise, it could easily be dismissed as another whining account of a creator complaining about getting burned because they didn't follow the rules. You must understand that I have been producing nude and erotic art, and sharing it online, consistently and without hiatus since 2008. I have never once been banned from a website - until now - because I make a habit of reading the rules of every site I use, and respecting those rules even when I disagree with them (and I do have my disagreements). My behavior on Patreon was no exception.

I first learned about Patreon from a fellow artist on DeviantArt. What piqued my curiosity was the potential to monetize the labor I'd been passionately engaging in on a pro bono basis for over a decade. So I gave it a try. In the summer of 2019, I finally transitioned from being an experienced amateur self-portrait photographer to a professional artist. My Patreon account began to grow only very slowly, but it gave me a sense of purpose, and it reinforced my work ethic. I quickly began producing more and better content than ever before, with a much higher turnover between production and distribution than I had previously been used to.

From the very start, I acknowledged and observed Patreon's restrictions on pornographic imagery - as I had already been doing on DeviantArt for several years. I was careful to separate the work I produced, sharing (and referencing) only nonsexual, nudist-friendly media on the platform. The only run-in I had with Patreon's Orwellian-named "Trust & Safety" team (which polices content violations), was early on (in the fall of my first year) due to a misunderstanding. I had published censored versions of nude images in a series of public newsletters designed to advertise my work, not realizing (on account of it not being included in the Community Guidelines that I had previously combed over), that Patreon had a strict policy on even the implication of nudity in any publicly-accessible areas of the site. After clarification, the issue was rectified, and I never published another image (censored or otherwise) outside of the bounds of Patreon's safety filters.

Trust & Safety?

Although it may seem pedantic, for the sake of establishing my case against Patreon, I'd like to go into a little more depth about my first run-in with the Trust & Safety team (I have the email chain to back up all of these claims). This was in November of 2019, only four months after I started using the site. I was contacted by a member of the Trust & Safety team, informing me of a strike against my account. To start with, the initial email read like a form letter describing a host of general violations, only one of which I was guilty of committing. I had to request that the team member actually review my specific case in order to find out what it was that I had done wrong, as if I could fix anything without knowing that first.

To their credit, the team member was willing to work with me (this time). After reviewing my case, two problems were identified. However, one of these (regarding publicly-accessible links to Patron-only content) turned out to not be a problem at all; but this was only determined after I explained to the Trust & Safety team member (who then agreed with me) why it was not. The other problem was a result of the critical omission of any reference to "implied nudity" in the Community Guidelines. It was not clear from reading the guidelines, and I did not imagine that the kind of implied nudity you sometimes see on the covers of such mainstream magazines as Entertainment Weekly, Rolling Stone, Vanity Fair, and Women's Health (among others) would create any issues. The team member acknowledged my suggestion that the guidelines be updated to reflect this unposted rule.

My final complaint regards the solution that was proferred to me by the Trust & Safety team member, in order to remove the strike on my account. Their requirement was to mark any post containing the offending content Patron-only (so as to restrict public access) - even though this would render those posts (designed to be public advertisements) completely pointless - rather than considering the possibility of simply removing the offending content and preserving the rest of these posts. I suggested the latter approach, which the team member agreed would be satisfactory, and so that's what I did. Problem solved. My case was resolved. I continued with no further issues, until this year.

I understand that these people on the Trust & Safety team probably have a huge workload, and that they can't pore over every detail of every case they come across (although I think that's what justice requires), but I think I've pretty clearly demonstrated that, other than what I couldn't know - because it wasn't passed on from Patreon to its users - I understood the rules of the site even better than the person hired to enforce them. That doesn't inspire confidence, and it lays the groundwork for the Trust & Safety team's later mishandling of my account, which had much more devastating consequences.

A Screeching Halt

Meanwhile, I needed another outlet for the more erotic-oriented works that I was continuing to create. For that reason, I also started an OnlyFans account. I consider it my right to advertise both aspects of my art - "simply nude" and "erotic" - on a third party site which permits that content; such as Twitter, which I have been using to build my brand and grow my fanbase. Fans have always had the choice, based on their tastes, to either subscribe to my nude art on Patreon, or my erotic art on OnlyFans. I never attempted to cross the two accounts, nor confuse users about what they would get from each one. OnlyFans never expressed to me any resentment that I produced a different kind of content for a different site, nor have they tried to police my behavior on a third party site. However, I cannot say the same for Patreon.

In March of this year (2022), after nearly three years of consistent productivity, providing hundreds of videos' and thousands of images' worth of content for Patreon (none of it ever cited by Patreon as being unacceptable or violating the Community Guidelines), out of the blue, I receive an email from a Trust & Safety team member on the way out of the office for a long weekend without correspondence, casually informing me that my account is in jeopardy. But it's not my conduct on Patreon that is the problem. It is content posted to my Twitter account (!) that has violated Patreon's guidelines. And the solution is to either remove any connection between the accounts (thus hamstringing my ability to advertise my work as an artist), or to "remove any violative content that's being shared on Twitter."

In other words, as a user of Patreon, the service was trying to police my behavior outside of Patreon, effectively trying to control the kind of art I was sharing on other platforms. This goes far beyond not permitting pornography on their platform (a rule that I always respected), and extends to not permitting known pornographers (with no consideration as to the delicate distinction between outright pornography and erotic art - we're not talking about explicit depictions of intercourse, mind you, but artistic portraits that merely do not shy away from "signs of arousal", as Patreon would describe it) to use their service, even within their guidelines. I instantly recognized this as an unreasonable demand, and prepared for the worst. Any hope of wanting to work with Patreon to resolve the issue was dashed by my resentment that they were willing to discriminate against me for my refusal, as an artist, to contribute to the further stigmatization of human sexuality.

Rather than scaring me straight, Patreon's objection to my involvement with pornography ironically left me with little recourse to continue on, professionally, as an artist (something I'm far more passionate about), as opposed to continuing to produce pornography for the more tolerant platform that has not rejected me - OnlyFans. Quite apart from encouraging people to pursue more socially-acceptable vocations, this is a pure example of how the shame and stigma of sex work actively discourages sex workers from leaving the very work for which they are condemned. Or, as in the case of my purpose as an artist, from attempting to raise the medium of sexual expression to a higher plane of sophistication.

Another difficulty in writing this post is expressing my emotional devastation without sounding melodramatic - the truth is, losing my Patreon account really hit me hard. If this had been any other site, I would have been disappointed, but I would have moved on. This was more like losing a job - a job that I really enjoyed, and one at which I thought I was performing well. Patreon didn't just rob me of a paycheck. They robbed me of a sense of purpose; of the feeling that what I'm doing is valuable - that it means something. Pulling the rug out from under me crippled my work ethic. I was legitimately depressed for months afterward. And for what? Not because of my behavior, but because of my sex-positive beliefs.

I may be a sensitive soul, but isn't that often the case among those with an artistic temperament? I'm not speaking metaphorically when I say that the impact of the way Patreon treated me brought me to my knees. I remember lying on the floor, my heart pounding through my chest. It exacerbated an arrythmia that sent me to the Emergency Room, where I had to have my heart shocked back into a normal rhythm - a procedure I am still paying for. And all the while my livelihood was being gutted, the Trust & Safety team coldly wished me "warm regards". I would have been less offended if they'd just been honest and told me they didn't give a fuck about me. Is it really worth it to treat other human beings this way? Is our phobia of human sexuality that important? And - perhaps the most poignant question of all - should we continue to patronize a platform that treats its own artists this way?