There is a phrase that keeps repeating itself in the testimonies of women who leave OnlyFans: “I thought I could control it.”
Control the content. Control the limits. Control the psychological impact. Control the money. I thought the same.
Before my return to the Catholic faith, my wife and I briefly entered the world of OnlyFans. We were there only a short time, but it was long enough to recognize something that the numbers alone cannot fully explain: the damage is not only economic or moral—it is psychological and spiritual. Watching former creators describe their experiences today confirms that this is not a collection of isolated failures, but a systemic pattern.
“I sold parts of my soul”: when testimony stops being metaphorical
In a widely viewed YouTube program featuring former OnlyFans creators, several women describe their experiences in language that is strikingly consistent. One of them states plainly: “I didn’t realize I was selling parts of my soul.” Another speaks of developing PTSD, of needing trauma counseling, and of being pulled into psychological darkness she never imagined she would face.
This is not religious rhetoric. It is the vocabulary of trauma.
Constant exposure, repeated sexualization, and daily interaction with explicit, degrading messages take a measurable toll. Not because these women are weak, but because the human person is not designed to turn intimacy into a commodity. When the body is reduced to a product, the psyche follows.\
The most dangerous lie: “Just set boundaries”
One of the most persistent myths surrounding OnlyFans is the idea that everything depends on personal boundaries. The data—and the testimonies—show the opposite. The system penalizes restraint.
Nearly 70% of revenue on OnlyFans comes from private messages, not subscriptions. That means constant availability, emotional labor, and simulated intimacy. The incentive structure is unmistakable: those who push further earn more; those who stop fade away.
I recognized this mechanism from inside the platform. There is rarely a single moment when everything “goes too far.” Instead, there is gradual normalization. What was once unthinkable becomes routine. What once felt uncomfortable becomes necessary.
The United States and the epicenter of collapse
The majority of these testimonies come from the United States, which also concentrates most of OnlyFans’ creators, users, and revenue. This is no coincidence. The platform thrives in a culture shaped by radical individualism, economic success as moral validation, and the belief that everything—including identity—can be monetized.
Yet even in this environment, where the “digital dream” is aggressively marketed, many women end up financially unstable, psychologically burned out, or permanently marked by content they cannot erase. As several testimonies emphasize, the money disappears far sooner than the images.
When conversion is not an excuse, but a reckoning
Some of the most striking testimonies end with a return to Christian faith. This must be handled honestly. Faith is not a magical eraser, nor a public-relations strategy. But it does offer something the market never will: truth, accountability, and the possibility of redemption.
One woman expresses it with painful clarity: “I’ve caused too many people to stumble. Now I want to bring them into the light.” That is not denial of responsibility. It is moral awakening.
From a Catholic perspective, forgiveness never denies sin; it confronts it. Mercy does not erase consequences, but it restores the person. In a culture that treats people as disposable once they are no longer profitable, this distinction matters deeply.
Not everything that is voluntary is good, and not everything that is profitable is just
Catholic Social Teaching insists that human dignity is non-negotiable, even with consent. When an economic system is sustained by commodification, extreme inequality, and psychological harm, it cannot be morally neutral simply because participation is voluntary.
OnlyFans does not liberate. It erodes.
It does not empower. It exhausts.
It does not dignify. It assigns a price to what has none.
Conclusion: warning is an act of charity
I write this not to condemn individuals, but to warn those who are still listening to the promise. Too many women now say the same thing: “I wish someone had told me sooner.” I say it knowing that I, too, once believed the narrative.
Exposing the dark side of OnlyFans is not moral panic. It is moral responsibility. And from the Catholic faith, it is also an act of charity: to speak the truth when silence is easier, and to name the cost when profit demands denial.
The wound remains long after the money is gone.
Sources
Catechism of the Catholic Church, nn. 2337–2354 (human dignity, sexuality, and moral responsibility).
Testimonies featured in the YouTube program: “From OnlyFans Model to Homeless: Women Are Going Broke on OnlyFans & Regretting It.”
Save the Children Spain, Reports on youth, sexualization, and digital platforms.
Yahoo Finance, independent analyses on income distribution and monetization on OnlyFans.
Influencer Marketing Hub, statistics on median earnings of subscription-based creators.
Compendium of the Social Doctrine of the Church, Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace.
