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This research is based on my lived experience which is a feminist practice of resistance and this piece aims to bring awareness to the increasing gendered crime of revenge porn.

In April 2025, an ex-boyfriend sent explicit photos of me to ninety-two teachers and administrators at my school, distributing pornographic images without my consent. Disguising himself as a concerned parent, he used fake email addresses and proxy servers to hide his identity. What appeared to be an act of moral concern was, in truth, a calculated act of gendered violence—an attempt to humiliate, control, and destroy my professional and personal integrity.

The school where I work sits at the center of a culture shaped by purity ideals and conservative values that quietly enforce gendered expectations that shame women while simultaneously sexualizing them. It’s also a culture that showed me unbelievable support, and women’s empowerment surrounded me in the aftermath. The contradictions aren’t always easy to resolve with basic explanations.

The town’s history of racially exclusionary policies reflects a desire to keep its schools “pure” and predominantly white, although I have to concede the town seems to be improving in this regard. Like many communities in the South, it includes a few but strong contingent of morally zealous parents eager to condemn those they view as too liberal. To thwart potential public vilification, I spoke out early, naming what happened to me as an act of gendered violence before rumor and moral panic could take hold. Fortunately, I was supported by colleagues and friends, which I found surprisingly progressive.

Nonetheless, the attack devastated my sense of safety, dignity, and professional standing. Revenge porn is a gendered act of control, humiliation, and retaliation: my ex-partner, already under a restraining order, weaponized intimate images to destroy my reputation, consistent with what my therapist identified as a Rejected Stalker with Resentful Stalker elements. His motivations included retaliation, reasserting control after rejection, and sexualized humiliation through exposure, reflecting patterns of coercive control and misogyny. Systems often protect perpetrators while silencing women through shame, disbelief, and bureaucratic neglect.

Summary of Revenge Porn and Non-Consensual Intimate Image Research

Revenge-porn research reveals a form of technologically mediated sexual violence rooted in patriarchal and neoliberal logics. It commodifies intimacy, enforces self-surveillance, and produces profound mental-health consequences. Feminist scholars call for survivor-centered, intersectional approaches that move beyond criminalization toward cultural transformation, collective accountability, and reclamation of digital subjectivity.

Definition and Scope

“Revenge porn,” more accurately described as non-consensual intimate image sharing (NCII) or image-based sexual abuse, refers to the distribution or threat to distribute sexually explicit images or videos of a person without their consent (McGlynn et al., 2017). The term “revenge porn” is increasingly critiqued for implying motive (revenge) and consent to the creation of the image, obscuring the broader spectrum of image-based harms such as hacking, voyeurism, “up-skirting,” and synthetic or AI-generated “deepfake” pornography (Henry & Flynn, 2019; Powell et al., 2018). These acts are gendered: while men can be victims, women and girls are disproportionately targeted, and the phenomenon is embedded in broader structures of gendered power, objectification, and digital surveillance (Henry & Powell, 2018).

Prevalence and Demographics

Empirical studies suggest that non-consensual image sharing is widespread and increasing with the expansion of digital media. In a national U.S. study, approximately 10 million Americans (about 4%) reported being victims of image-based abuse (Citron & Franks, 2014). A multi-country survey by Powell et al. (2018) estimated that 1 in 10 adults have had an intimate image shared without consent, and nearly 1 in 3 know someone who has. Young adults aged 18–29 are at greatest risk, with higher victimization rates among women, LGBTQ+ people, and ethnic minorities (Ruvalcaba & Eaton, 2020).
Prevalence data are limited by under-reporting, stigma, and fear of secondary victimization, highlighting the need for intersectional and trauma-informed research.

Motivations and Perpetration

Perpetrators’ motives are complex and extend beyond “revenge.” Research identifies control, humiliation, sexual gratification, and coercion as common motives (Branch et al., 2017). Henry and Powell (2018) conceptualize NCII as part of a continuum of technology-facilitated sexual violence, in which image sharing operates as a tool of coercion and surveillance. Some perpetrators engage for entertainment or financial gain (“sextortion,” pornography trading markets).
Neoliberal and postfeminist cultural discourses may normalize image commodification, blurring the line between sexual agency and exploitation (Dobson & Ringrose, 2016). The logic of self-branding and digital visibility—central to postfeminist femininity—creates both pressure to produce sexualized images and risk of their weaponization.

Psychological and Social Harms

The documented harms of non-consensual image distribution parallel those of sexual assault and intimate partner abuse. Victims report shame, humiliation, anxiety, depression, PTSD symptoms, social isolation, and suicidal ideation (Bates, 2017; Henry et al., 2019). Many experience loss of trust, disrupted identity, and self-objectification (Ruvalcaba & Eaton, 2020).
Henry et al. (2019) describe this trauma as “digital sexual violation,” in which victims’ sense of bodily autonomy and subjectivity is fragmented by the permanent circulation of images online. Feminist objectification theory (Fredrickson & Roberts, 1997) helps explain these effects: when women’s bodies are publicly exposed and evaluated, they internalize the gaze and become self-monitoring subjects. The Internet intensifies this process through “networked visibility,” where self-presentation and humiliation coexist.

The mental-health consequences are compounded by victim-blaming, where survivors are faulted for taking intimate photos at all (Citron & Franks, 2014). Such reactions reflect enduring double standards in sexual morality and respectability, echoing broader postfeminist contradictions in which women are encouraged to be sexy yet punished for sexual expression (Gill, 2007; McRobbie, 2008).

Therapeutic Interventions

Therapeutic interventions for survivors of image-based sexual abuse (IBSA) remain an underdeveloped area within trauma treatment. While research has documented the profound psychological and relational harm associated with non-consensual image sharing—such as shame, dissociation, anxiety, and identity disruption—there are few evidence-based, trauma-informed models tailored specifically to this form of digital sexual violation (Bates, 2021). Traditional therapeutic approaches to sexual assault and intimate partner violence offer valuable frameworks, yet they often overlook the ongoing and uncontrollable nature of online exposure, which can re-trigger trauma each time images resurface or are viewed by others. Trauma-informed care for IBSA survivors must therefore address the unique dimensions of digital permanence, visibility, and loss of control, integrating elements of cognitive processing therapy, somatic regulation, and narrative repair. In addition to individual therapy, survivors benefit from psychoeducation about digital safety, restorative justice practices, and advocacy within legal and institutional systems that frequently fail to protect them. A trauma-informed approach must also counter the pervasive victim-blaming and internalized shame that accompany image-based sexual abuse, reframing the harm as a violation of consent, autonomy, and personhood rather than a moral failure. Further clinical research is urgently needed to develop and validate interventions that recognize the intersection of psychological trauma, digital technology, and gendered power, ensuring survivors can reclaim agency over their stories and bodies in both physical and digital spaces.

Legal and Policy Developments

By 2025, most U.S. states and numerous countries have criminalized the non-consensual sharing of intimate images (McGlynn et al., 2021). However, early legislation often framed the issue narrowly around intent to harm or profit, which left many victims unprotected. More recent feminist legal scholarship advocates for a human-rights and sexual-violence framework, focusing on consent, dignity, and privacy rather than revenge (McGlynn & Rackley, 2017).
Despite legal progress, enforcement remains inconsistent. Barriers include difficulty identifying perpetrators, limited cross-jurisdictional cooperation, platform immunity, and victim reluctance to pursue legal action (Henry & Powell, 2018). Scholars urge greater collaboration between policymakers, technology companies, and feminist advocacy groups to ensure swift content removal and survivor-centered justice (Citron, 2019).

Digital Platforms and Technological Dimensions

Technology companies are increasingly pressured to address image-based abuse through reporting systems, automated detection, and digital fingerprinting. Yet studies show that removal processes are slow and retraumatizing, often requiring victims to repeatedly relive their experience (Henry & Flynn, 2019). Algorithms struggle to distinguish consensual from non-consensual content, and platforms frequently prioritize free-speech arguments over survivor protection (Citron, 2019).

Emerging research highlights the threat of AI-generated deepfake pornography, where perpetrators create synthetic sexual images of women without consent (Cole, 2021). Deepfakes reproduce the same gendered dynamics of objectification and surveillance while expanding perpetrators’ anonymity and reach.

Cultural and Feminist Analysis

Feminist cultural theorists interpret revenge porn within the broader context of neoliberal postfeminism, where sexual visibility is both celebrated and policed (Gill & Orgad, 2018; McRobbie, 2015). The cultural demand for women to be simultaneously empowered and desirable produces the conditions for both voluntary image production and punitive exposure.
Henry and Powell (2018) argue that NCII exemplifies the entanglement of digital technology, gendered power, and capitalism, where the female body becomes a transferable data object. The shame victims experience mirrors what Bartky (1990) called “disciplinary femininity,” in which women internalize regulation through self-surveillance. In this sense, revenge porn is not merely a personal betrayal but a social mechanism that reinforces patriarchal control through visibility and humiliation.

Gaps and Future Research

While the literature on NCII has expanded, gaps remain.

1. Intersectionality: Few studies explore how race, class, disability, and migration shape vulnerability and recovery.
2. Longitudinal impacts: Most research captures short-term trauma but not long-term identity reconstruction or resilience.
3. Men and LGBTQ+ experiences: Underrepresented populations require further study, as their experiences challenge heteronormative assumptions about image-based abuse.
4. Platform accountability: There is limited research evaluating the effectiveness of removal mechanisms, content moderation, and AI detection tools.
5. Therapeutic interventions: Evidence-based, trauma-informed care models specific to image-based sexual abuse remain underdeveloped (Bates, 2021).

Implications for Feminist Research and Practice

Scholars agree that addressing revenge porn requires integrating feminist, legal, and psychological frameworks. The phenomenon exposes how neoliberalism privatizes structural violence: women are told to protect their images, manage risk, and self-regulate, while perpetrators and platforms evade accountability.

For feminist educators and clinicians, this calls for holistic interventions that combine media literacy, consent education, and trauma recovery. For researchers, autoethnographic and qualitative approaches can illuminate the subjective experience of image-based violation—connecting individual trauma to broader discourses of objectification, neoliberal selfhood, and gendered power.

References

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Bates, S. (2017). Revenge porn and mental health: A qualitative analysis of the impacts on victims. Feminist Criminology, 12(1), 22–42. https://doi.org/10.1177/1557085115601769

Bates, S. (2021). Revenge pornography, harm and justice. Feminist Media Studies, 21(3), 413–429. https://doi.org/10.1080/14680777.2019.1620390

Branch, K., Hilinski-Ross, J., Johnson, E., & Solano, G. (2017). Revenge porn victimization of college students in the United States. Journal of Interpersonal Violence, 32(14), 2159–2188.

Citron, D. K. (2019). Hate crimes in cyberspace. Harvard University Press.

Citron, D. K., & Franks, M. A. (2014). Criminalizing revenge porn. Wake Forest Law Review, 49(2), 345–391.

Cole, S. (2021). Deepfake pornography and the construction of gendered digital harm. Ethics and Information Technology, 23(4), 1–13.

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