At the end of 2024, Human Rights Watch published a report that shook the adult webcam industry. It wasn't the first document to talk about exploitation. But it was the most detailed.
It was titled “I Learned How to Say No“. Inside were stories gathered in Colombia. Stories of people who work in webcam studios, the ones that produce content for platforms like BongaCams. The title already says a lot.
Those who work in webcam interaction have known it for years. Behind the screen there isn't just the performer. There's a supply chain. Rents, percentages, contracts signed in a hurry. And often, according to the report, outright abuse.
Yes, abuse.
It's nothing new, but it's still striking to see it confirmed by an organization like HRW. The workers describe exhausting shifts, unfair contract clauses, psychological pressure to do things they didn't want to do. In some cases, sexual violence.
The report cites the standard contract BongaCams offers to performers. A document that talks about dashboards, statistics, financial metrics. Marketing stuff. But the testimonies collected tell another reality. A reality where the numbers almost never work out in favor of the person in front of the camera.
How a webcam studio really works
A webcam studio isn't just any office. It's a place where performers rent a workstation, use professional equipment, get direction. In exchange they give up a percentage of their earnings. From 50% and up, sometimes.
The model is simple: the studio takes a cut. The platform takes another. The performer gets what's left. If things go well, 30%. If they go badly, much less.
And it's not just about money.
Many girls, the HRW report says, were pushed to do anal on stream even if they didn't want to. Others were forced into 12-hour shifts. Some couldn't refuse clients. “I learned to say no,” one of them said. She learned it after months. She didn't know before.
The consent culture, in those contexts, simply doesn't exist. It isn't provided for. It isn't even considered. And when consent is missing, the rest becomes exploitation. Pure and simple.
Anyone who thinks the webcam world is all roses has clearly never set foot in a Colombian studio at three in the morning. Or maybe they have, and chose to look the other way.
Why Colombia became a hub
Over the last ten years, Colombia has exploded as a production hub for cam sites. Low costs, a time zone compatible with the United States, a young and connected population. Platforms invested. Studios multiplied. The business grew.
But regulation lagged behind.
In Colombia there are labor laws, of course. There are codes, protections, labor inspectorates. But the webcam sector is in a gray area. Performers are often treated as independent contractors. Not as employees. So no vacation, no sick leave, no union.
And when someone complains, the answer is almost always the same: “If you don't like it, there's the door.” In a country where the minimum wage is about $250 a month, you don't take that door. You endure it.
It's no coincidence that the harshest complaints come precisely from Colombia. The mix of poverty, lack of alternatives and absence of oversight creates the perfect conditions for abuse. We know this well, those of us who follow them digital intimacy closely.
The platforms defend themselves
BongaCams, asked by HRW, responded by citing the Performer Agreement. It talked about personal dashboards, transparent data, statistics, metrics. It said that every registered performer has access to clear information about their earnings. Period.
Not a word about working conditions. Not a mention of the complaints. Just the contract. As if that were enough.
It's a strategy we've seen a thousand times. The platform presents itself as a neutral intermediary. It provides the technology, the rest is a matter between performer and studio. But it's a convenient distinction. Too convenient.
Because without the platforms, the studios wouldn't exist. And without the studios, the platforms wouldn't have content. The bond is tight. Denying it is hypocritical.
Other platforms, over the years, have made similar moves. Statements of principle, ethical codes, safety guidelines. But the HRW report shows that, at least in Colombia, those codes aren't worth the paper they're printed on.
What it means for viewers
You often ask yourself: but what can I do, on the other side of the screen? The answer is simpler than it seems. Get informed. Make choices. Don't pretend nothing's happening.
If you know that a platform tolerates abuse, you can decide not to use it. If a performer publicly tells her story, you can listen to her. This isn't moralism, it's consumer ethics. Porn too, webcams too, are products. And every product has a supply chain.
There are no easy solutions.
But responsibility exists. Of those who produce, those who distribute, those who consume. The HRW report reminds us with the force of 70 pages of testimonies. It's up to us to decide whether to turn away or start asking questions.
Because saying “I didn't know” doesn't work anymore. Now we know.
Sources and references
Sources:
- Human Rights Watch – “I Learned How to Say No”: Labor Abuses & Sexual Exploitation in Colombian Webcam Studios (2024)
- Cam – Official Website
- Federal Register – Issues Related to Performing Rights Organizations (2025)
- The Kinsey Institute for Research in Sex, Gender, and Reproduction
- American Association of Sexuality Educators, Counselors and Therapists (AASECT)
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