When Moderation is Actually Just Cowardice in Drag

There’s this hilarious trend among “forward-thinking” platforms. They brag about their values. They puff their chests and slap “inclusive” statements all over their marketing pages like a digital pride float. Then the second someone posts consenting adult content that isn’t missionary-position-in-the-dark, these same companies start squealing like their pearls are choking them.

I mean, look at the landscape. Patreon, PayPal, OnlyFans for a hot second. Stripe pretending orgasms are a national security threat. They all claim to be defending morality. What they’re actually defending is their bottom line. And they think theirs is more important than mine.

Cute.

Why Moderation is Cowardice

But here’s the thing these moderation paladins keep forgetting. Every “principled crackdown” comes with a big fat financial own goal. Because creators aren’t peasants in some feudal content kingdom. We move. And we take our audiences with us.

I have thousands of subscribers on Substack. They could have been on Patreon. They could have spent money there. But Patreon shuttered the door on the adults and shoved us out into the cold while pretending they were saving society. And shocker, society didn’t get any better. But Patreon’s revenue sure got smaller.

If Substack ever decides to follow that same pearl-clutching path, I’ll pack my bags again and drag every single reader with me. Platforms don’t own us, they rent us. And the moment they forget that, they get evicted.

What baffles me is the sheer arrogance. I’m not kicking down church doors screaming “Science disproved your imaginary sky-daddy, Karen!” I’m not barging into children’s playrooms and yelling “Let’s talk about anal!” I stay in the legal, adult-only part of the internet, behind age gates and warnings, where grown people choose to go.

Irony of Moderation

Yet these companies march into consensual spaces like PTA moms patrolling a sex club with clipboards and morality as tight as their Spanx, telling us what we can and cannot do with stories and pixels. And then they expect us to applaud their courage.

Let me put it simply. When you strangle the creators who built your damn platform, you’re not protecting anything. You’re driving money right out the door. The adult audience is massive. The loyalty is intense. And the content doesn’t rely on trends or ten-second TikTok attention spans. It’s lucrative as hell.

So to any execs pretending they’re doing God’s work: congratulations. You’re choosing self-righteous invisibility over cold hard cash. And when that quarterly revenue call comes and you’re sweating through your ethical cardigan, just remember: you chose to lose.

I’ll be over here doing what millions of people enjoy and are willing to pay for. You know, the thing you supposedly built your business around.

Even in School Moderation is Cowardice

When I was a kid, I didn’t defend the openly gay boy in my class. I wasn’t brave. I was terrified that if I stood next to him, the same bullies would turn on me. Years later, when I finally came out, I tried to say hello. He looked right through me. And he was right to. Why should he welcome someone who stood by and watched him bleed?

Now I’m living the life I used to be scared of. I’m writing about men fucking men. And these platforms that initially welcome me like I’m some diversity trophy, suddenly get cold feet when the real bullies show up. Stripe, Apple, Mastercard and other corporations with all the moral authority of a fart in church, swinging their imaginary “protect the children” sword at legal adult creators. These are the same types who once shoved that kid into lockers, except now they wear suits and call it policy.

Bullies and Cowards Stepping on their Fans

And then there’s Nicki Minaj. The woman who once strutted across the stage built by LGBTQ fans, heels crushing homophobia into glitter dust, now flirting with MAGA fantasies and anti-LGBTQ vibes like she’s auditioning for a Fox News residency. It’s the same cowardice I grew up seeing, dressed up in neon hair and designer boots. Shout about empowerment until it’s inconvenient. Claim to be on our side until it costs you something. Pretend the bullies aren’t the ones you’re eating lunch with. The crown doesn’t mean shit when you’re crowing for the wrong crowd.

Platforms behave the exact same way. They aren’t defending values. They’re defending whoever screams the loudest with the biggest lawyers. They’re terrified of upsetting pearl-clutching censors who don’t even use their services. Instead of standing up for the queer creators who actually built half their fucking traffic and more of their profit, they fold faster than a cheap table from IKEA. And every time they do, they force us to relive that same old playground rule: survival means abandoning the ones most targeted.

But here’s the twist. Now we’re the ones with the numbers. We move our audiences, our influence, our wallets. We aren’t the ones shoved into lockers anymore. We’re the ones paying for the fucking building. Platforms don’t own us. They rent us. And the moment they forget that, they get evicted.

We aren’t the problem.
We’re the product.
And if they can’t stomach that, we’ll take our business somewhere run by grown-ups who don’t answer to imaginary men in the sky.