APIA Heritage Month Spotlight: Sex Worker Advocate Mia Little
By: Margot Seeto
Tags: Sex Work, Aapi Heritage Month, LGBTQ, Asian American, Equality

APIA Heritage Month Spotlight: Sex Worker Advocate Mia Little

It costs $0.00 to use the correct pronouns. Photo by Taryn Carter on Mia Little’s Instagram

Sun 05/31/2020, 5:30pm PDT: Story reflects a follow-up conversation with Mia Little. Because we can’t currently talk about race without talking about George Floyd and Black Lives Matter.

May has been designated as Asian and Pacific Islander American Heritage Month since the 1970s. While there should always be room to share histories and experiences, this month is a time to shine a brighter spotlight on the complex stories of our communities that are often glossed over or rendered invisible by the mainstream. APIA communities owe a lot to the Black community and the Civil Rights Movement, whose hard-won battles and still painful struggles for racial equality carry through to today. As a person who identifies with overlapping communities that have been historically marginalized — sex worker, queer, pilipinx — Mia Little has been working actively to build allyship and move their communities from the margins to the center.

“Sorry if you can hear me grinding coffee in the background. I got a new hand-operated one and am excited to try it!” said Mia Little over the phone from their sunny San Diego residence on Memorial Day morning. With the easy cheer in their voice, it’s easy to understand why they are an effective conduit for pushing the policies and cultural discussions surrounding sex work. As a sex worker for nearly a decade, Little has moved through the ranks of camming, porn, and BDSM — just to name a few areas of their sex work expertise. And they have a lot to say from their experience, which is why they have become an outspoken advocate for sex workers’ in-person and online rights, as well as related issues to social justice.

“I’ve been on sets where I’ve been told, ‘Don’t speak English’…Those scenes were typecast in racism.”

Born in Long Island, New York, the self-identified pilipinx changed their professional name from Mia Li to Mia Little nearly three years ago. “The last name Li was given to me by my first manager. He said to ‘just choose a generic Asian last name’…I’m not even Chinese,” said Little of her introduction to the rather racially callous mainstream porn world in Los Angeles. The racist name was indicative of the industry’s proclivities to cast Little and other porn actors of color in stereotypical roles. “I’ve been on sets where I’ve been told, ‘Don’t speak English,’ or the director has referred to me [simply] as ‘the Asian babysitter…Those scenes were typecast in racism,” said Little. Furthermore, with the larger porn studios owning the works Little was in, “They could title it how they want, which can be really racializing,” Little said, referring to past productions with reductive titles such as“Pho-King.” It was through repeated experiences of this typecasting that Little said, “My politics emerged.”

While exercising their newfound voice in calling out typecasting, the self-advocacy in that world came at a cost. “When I was getting more political, more vocal, I started getting less work,” said Little. Eventually, they found their way into sex work that allowed them more agency, branding themself so fans could follow them from platform to platform. Shedding their old identity also came with the transformation. “From Li to Little was an easy change. It speaks to my gender identity. I am queer, genderqueer, I am a femme daddy,” they said.

“I found that in BDSM and kink…consent is required in such detail. It’s much safer.”

Little’s path from mainstream porn to sex work that aligned with their values was not immediate, though. “I didn’t jump into full service, in-person stuff until many years later. I was wanting a secure community, so I could mitigate harm,” Little said, speaking to the potential dangers that many in-person sex workers face. They found part of that tight-knit community at The Armory in San Francisco, which was home to BDSM porn studio Kink from 2006–2018. “I found that in BDSM and kink…consent is required in such detail. It’s much safer…We ask, ‘What do you like?’…That’s what I carry with me in my conceptualization in sex work, as both a domme and a sub,” Little said.

They eventually wanted to bring the idea of consent in sex work to consent in other types of relationships, presenting several workshops to college students and professionals over the years. “Consent is universal,” they said. “My undergrad degree included education…For me, [workshops] made sense…There are gaps in sex education because we’re a shame-based society,” they said. To that end, Little has conducted workshops that almost undo traditional notions of sex, such as “Deconstructing Hookup Culture,” “BDSM: Safe Words,” as well as workshops for medical professionals about safety protocols for adult film workers. For those who have not had the chance to attend one of Little’s workshops, they have also spoken about issues in sex work and personal relationships at length on their YouTube channel.

“Platforms like OnlyFans have a history of building brands on the backs of sex workers, and then booting them off.”

As for the internet, Little’s relationship with it has been long and storied, even before COVID-19 forced many sex workers (privileged enough to have internet access) to rely on online income. The FOSTA-SESTA online sex trafficking bill package’s ramifications have impeded consenting adult sex workers’ ability to operate online. Instagram deleted Little’s account twice. Beyond the hassle of re-building a follower base under a new handle, the old accounts were “an archive of representation, of coming out as a gender nonconforming person…Having myself erased is uncomfortable,” said Little, which is part of why they joined Survivors Against SESTA. As for the larger sex worker community, Little observed, “I was seeing this wave of my community members being deleted. If I’m shadowbanned, it’s hard to find each other… A lot of organizing is done online.” The loss of online accounts included (and still includes) banking apps, and the ability to signal boost, which helps sex workers look out for each other. Shared documents, such as “bad date” lists, disappeared. “These are people who can and have been violent to you, who can assault, rob, and rape,” said Little, further illustrating the importance of the online information networks.

Most recently, online subscription platform OnlyFans experienced a boom in adult content providers and subscribers during the coronavirus pandemic, only to suddenly disable many of those providers’ accounts without warning. “Platforms like OnlyFans have a history of building brands on the backs of sex workers, and then booting them off,” Little said. It’s an uncomfortably familiar pattern for sex workers, who will have to continue seeking new ways of generating income during this unstable time. In unpacking more layers of the online sex worker stigmas such as Little’s, they said, “There’s the white supremacy of it all. Playboy and Kendall Jenner can show nudity. Then folks who are black, trans, disabled, fat, something contrary to what is valued in white supremacy [are kicked off]…it’s harder to bounce back.”

Yet, bouncing back is what sex workers have to do time and again. Not only because of the taboo status of their profession, but also because of racist, sexist, homophobic, ableist or other prejudices within the industry and from outsiders. Little’s experiences illustrate that we can’t separate our identities — both chosen and inherited. To do so is an injustice to the all communities to which we are inextricably linked. Wrongs committed to one are wrongs committed to all. Which is why it was important talk to Little again on the heels of George Floyd’s and so many other Black people’s police-caused deaths. What would have been the point of publishing this piece now without talking about it?

For George Floyd and Black Lives Matter

The original interview took place hours before now-former Minnesota police officer Derek Chauvin knelt on George Floyd’s neck until he died — another all-too-familiar death of a Black person at the hands of the police. A few days later, I turned in an article draft and An Injustice! editor Zuva left notes. I said I’d request to talk to Mia Little again. “I was actually gonna reach out to see if there was a way to talk about what has been happening,” answered Little right away. The collective urgency of the matter is something we are still experiencing — an experience that many Black people have had their whole lives.

“Relating back to race, especially in relation to identifying as an Asian Pacific Islander — it’s imperative to know that having that identity does not mean that the work’s done”

“It’s important we have that conversation. To relate that to my own race and to others. Especially when white supremacists are out,” Little said. “They want to turn what is a very important moment in revolution and standing up against the larger system into something that further demonizes Black people,” they continued. And while saying they are not an authority, their work in advocacy has equipped them with a toolbox to unpack some of what is happening now, and to offer advice to those who may be wondering how to help.

“Relating back to race, especially in relation to identifying as an Asian Pacific Islander — it’s imperative to know that having that identity does not mean that the work’s done,” Little said. Having a minority identity does not automatically mean one is being actively anti-racist. “You’ve got to actively work to break this down in micro and macro ways, like when knowing when we perpetuate anti-blackness ourselves or dismantling ideas around the model minority. These are notions offered up by white supremacy. There’s this lie that the closer we align to whiteness, the more successful we are, the safer we are,” Little said. Some Asian Americans who strive to achieve the model minority myth are often silently complacent when it comes to incidences or policies that harm other minority groups. It is a division created by white supremacy intended to dissolve the political power of everyone subjugated by it.

“Listen to the calls of organizations that have been challenging systemic racism and police since Day 1. Don’t assume what a group needs. Ask them.”

That said, those of us with different types of privileges can leverage those in current protests and in everyday life. “I know in the Asian American diaspora, there are definitely folx who are white-passing. Sometimes, if you have that privilege, you can use it,” Little said. As to how? “Some folx have less of a chance of having a rubber bullet shot at them…So get in the way,” Little said, referring to human barriers some protestors have formed to protect those more vulnerable to police brutality. Little also suggests less extreme ways of helping, such as “being out there with milk of magnesia ready for tear gas” and “donating to Black organizations that have been around forever,” such as the NAACP.

During this conversation, Little was repeatedly adamant about taking the lead from the Black community. “Listen to the calls of organizations that have been challenging systemic racism and police since Day 1. Don’t assume what a group needs. Ask them,” they said. It’s a delicate balance between being an ally and being blind to what a community might actually need. Always check yourself and question. That said, “It’s important to uplift voices that are not just our own,” Little said.

During the Civil Rights movement, early Black Panther member and Japanese American internment survivor Richard Aoki held up an iconic sign that read, “Yellow Peril Supports Black Power.” He was referring to an alliance between Asian Americans and African Americans during the movement. Recently, Seattle-based artist Monyee Chau created an online homage to that image, which has been rapidly making its rounds online. Asian-Black relations have historically been fraught, coming to a head during the Los Angeles uprising in 1992. Chau’s call back to a time of visible solidarity between communities of color is a reminder that we owe a lot to the Black community for paving the way. Let’s be there for them now. Let’s be there for them always. As Little said, “It’s heavy. It’s not supposed to be light. It’s a lifelong process.”