By Noah Diaz
Blue skies and warm light surround me, as the rich, delightful smells of a homemade breakfast fill the high-rise apartment. Across from me sits James Stevens, his warm, rugged mouth smiling as he talks. The only sign that we’re in the middle of downtown Houston is the low hum of the city below us. He tells me about the architectural and developmental differences between East and West Berlin, his European home for the past three years. Stevens is passionate about sustainable urban planning, and his face lights up with every detail he shares. He shows me a photo on his phone of a burger restaurant in Berlin that is located under a bridge. He zooms in to highlight the “Manner” sign on the side of the restaurant, a clear indication that the establishment is a former men’s restroom, given new life as an eatery.
Stevens is a sex worker—a job that has gifted him the ability and freedom to travel. His income comes from his clients all across the United States and abroad. He offers two services to the men who hire him: a 90-minute session which includes “sex and a full-body massage,” or an overnight session, which includes “16 to 24 hours depending on the client. It includes lots of sex, lots of massages for [the client], and three homemade meals.”
As our conversation continues, I’m enveloped in this moment of shared humanity. Stevens begins to talk about his upbringing in Northeast Florida, where he was born on a very large, corporate potato farm. “My father grew more religious as I [got older],” he shares. Stevens grew up without a single friend—“not even one,” he says. After confirming their son’s sexual orientation, Stevens’ parents prayed with their son. “Heal me and make me whole again,” they prayed on a daily basis. In the following years, Stevens’ shame and guilt turned into two suicide attempts and thousands of suicidal thoughts. In his teens, he was sent to gay conversion therapy run by Exodus International (which was dismantled in 2013 and a formal apology issued). He writes very openly about his feelings during this time on his website:
“I felt an insurmountable amount of guilt because of my sexuality… I wept after every session because I was ashamed of the person I was and the person I could never be. I wanted to die.”
Stevens endured two years of conversion therapy to no avail. He stopped attending and moved away to college to study political science—a subject he’s still very passionate about today. “I can’t not talk about politics,” he says. “Even with my clients, it’s not the main point of discussion—we’re having sex—but it might come up in the time we spend together.” Three days after his college graduation, Stevens packed up and moved to San Francisco, where he’d fallen in love with the city’s liberal politics, temperate weather, and scenic beauty.
“Then I volunteered with two different nonprofits in San Francisco, which also got me nowhere,” he recalls with a sigh. “And so, I worked in bars, as security, and did other odd jobs. But it’s such an expensive place to live, it still didn’t add up.” To find financial stability in the city, Stevens ventured into sex work and, after spending time with his first client, he realized that his caring personality and southern hospitality made him perfect for the job.
But as the cost of living in San Francisco continued to rise and Stevens began to foresee a changing national political climate, he sought a move to Germany. Once in Munich, then Berlin, Stevens began to refer to himself as an “American refugee.” “I would say that in Germany and no one would understand what I meant. They would look at me like I was crazy,” he recalls. “And then, [in 2016], Trump got elected and then everyone understood.”
These days, Stevens returns to the States for a few months out of the year to visit his clients. He is a staunch advocate for sex work, and explains that the benefits for his clients are varied. He shares that a client of his in Denver was raped two years prior, and wanted to have a positive sexual encounter to help him move past the trauma and pain. Stevens reassured this client that they did not have to do anything he didn’t feel comfortable with. “With tears in his eyes, he nodded,” Stevens remembers. “I gently held and caressed him. Toward the end of our session, I could see that he was happier and more upbeat and cheerful. It was a wonderful feeling to be able to help someone who had been through this terrifying experience.”
Stevens also recalls a client of his in Philadelphia. “He’s a southern Baptist minister with a wife and grown children,” he says, adding that he identifies and empathizes with the client’s upbringing. “I know what he’s feeling is shame, and I always encourage my clients to come out,” Stevens says. “At the same time, I understand their point of view.”
He also divulges other holistic reasons why men seek his services: men seeking body acceptance, overcoming bad/toxic relationships, and closeted men seeking connection. “Men hire me for all different reasons,” Stevens says. “A lot of these men weren’t given opportunities for sexual encounters when they were younger—maybe because they were closeted, maybe because they [had body issues], or they didn’t get the chance to enjoy sex with men in their younger lives. It’s really great to provide a service for these guys who never had that before.”
To read and learn more about James Stevens and his work, visit his blog at theamericanrefugeeinde.home.blog.
