You Can Judge Me, But You Can’t Stop Me

By Trinity Barnette

People on the internet love to talk like they know you.

They’ll scroll past a 15-second clip or glimpse of your life and decide they’ve got you all figured out. And if you’re a woman—especially a confident, ambitious, outspoken one? God help you. Because now you’re not just being seen, you’re being picked apart.

Recently, someone commented that I’d “never become a prosecutor” because of my OnlyFans. As if showing your body to survive somehow disqualifies your mind. As if sex work makes you less smart, less serious, or less worthy of having dreams that stretch far beyond a screen.

And I’ll be honest—it hurt. It didn’t destroy me, but it cut deep. Because I work hard. I’m running a blog, I’m running an OF, I’m studying criminal justice—all on my own. No team, no manager, no handouts. Just me, my vision, and a work ethic most of my haters couldn’t keep up with if they tried.

So no—this blog isn’t me pretending I’m unbothered. This is me telling the truth: the hate does affect me, but it will never stop me.

You can judge me if it makes you feel better. But don’t get it twisted—I’m still going exactly where I said I would. And if you’re someone who’s ever been looked down on for how you survive or express yourself, I hope this reminds you that you’re not alone—and you’re not any less.

The Perception of Me

People think they know me because they’ve seen a few posts or heard a few things. They think because I’ve shown skin or sold content, they have the right to define who I am, what I stand for, and what I’m capable of. They assume I’m not serious. That I’m not smart. That I’m not someone who belongs in a courtroom, let alone leading it.

But here’s the truth:

You can run a blog.

You can run an OnlyFans.

You can major in criminal justice.

And you can still be someone who’s passionate about law, truth, and justice.

I don’t live in a box, and I refuse to shrink myself to make people comfortable. I’m building something real—and I’m doing it without a blueprint. I don’t have PR people or a management team or anyone holding my hand through the process. I’m 19, independent, and putting myself through school, running multiple platforms, educating people, and creating content that actually makes an impact.

But people don’t care about any of that.

They care about what makes them uncomfortable.

They care about feeling morally superior to women like me who dare to make money outside their control.

The truth is, they need me to be one-dimensional—because the second they admit I’m multi-talented, hard-working, and sharp as hell?

They have to face the fact that they’re not doing enough.

So instead, they project.

They call me names.

They act like I’m less.

But I know exactly who I am.

And no comment section will ever convince me otherwise.

Yes, It Hurts—But It Doesn’t Define Me

Let’s be honest: I feel it. I’m not made of stone.

When I see someone say I’m not “professional enough” or “respectable enough” because I used OnlyFans to survive? It stings.

Because I know how hard I’ve worked. I know the nights I stayed up writing, editing, studying, scripting, filming, grinding. I know the emotional labor it takes to put yourself out there—fully, authentically—while people try to tear you apart from behind a screen.

So yes, the hate affects me. I’m human. I get angry, I get sad, and sometimes I wonder if it’s even worth it to keep being vulnerable online.

But what I’ve learned is that just because it hurts doesn’t mean it has to hold me. Just because I feel it doesn’t mean I have to carry it.

The hate doesn’t define me—I do.

I define myself every time I show up anyway. Every time I post a new blog, pitch a new idea, plan a new move. Every time I stay focused instead of folding under pressure.

And that’s the lesson I want people to take away from this.

You’re allowed to hurt. You’re allowed to feel it. You don’t have to pretend to be unbothered. But you do have to decide if their words get to live in your head—or if they get deleted like every other spammy little comment.

The power is in choosing not to absorb what was never yours to carry.

Control, Confidence, and Knowing You’re That Bitch

There’s a certain kind of power in knowing who you are—even when the world tries to tell you otherwise. And that kind of power? It doesn’t come from being loud or reckless. It comes from control. From not reacting to every insult. From staying focused. From not letting someone else’s projection throw off your path.

That’s not easy. It takes strength to stay silent when you’re being disrespected. It takes confidence to keep showing up when you feel misunderstood or underestimated. But that’s the exact strength I’ve been building. And that’s what keeps me grounded—on the hard days, the lonely days, and the days when the internet feels like a firing squad.

Because at the end of the day, I know I’m that bitch.

Not because I say it to be cocky, but because I’ve earned it. I’ve built this platform from scratch. I’ve stayed consistent even when it was uncomfortable. I’ve turned pain into purpose, and I’ve done it all while people threw judgment my way.

So to anyone else navigating hate, slut-shaming, or being doubted for how you survive—this is your reminder:

You don’t owe anyone an explanation for how you choose to exist.

Their discomfort isn’t your responsibility.

Their opinions aren’t your truth.

And their words?

They only have power if you give it to them.

So take that power back.

Let them talk—and let them watch you win.