In our continuing Pride Month celebration, we had the opportunity to do a Q&A with the lovely Chelsea Poe. Chelsea cams via Treasure Cams, but is certainly a vet in the adult industry. We were delighted to get her thoughts on the goings on of the industry and the world at large. Read the interview below.
You’ve been camming for nearly a decade and, honestly, you’re one of the first Trans performers I think of in terms of longevity. How do you think Trans visibility has changed since you began?
First of all, thank you so much for seeing me that way as a trans performer with longevity. That really means something to me.
It’s kind of wild… One minute, you’re the youngest person on set, wide-eyed and walking into your first industry event, just trying to figure it all out. And then suddenly, you’re the one people come to for advice. You’ve become the steady hand, the person with stories and lessons to share. It’s surreal.
When I started, the landscape was — it was tough. There were slurs, walls, and ceilings everywhere. Being trans meant being boxed in, pigeonholed into categories that didn’t reflect who we really are. But now, standing in 2025? It feels like we’ve crossed over into something completely different. We’re finally part of a space that feels inclusive, even celebratory.
Trans performers are right there alongside cis performers, nominated for the same awards, collaborating with the same people. And the best part? No backlash. No cruel noise. The slurs that used to hang in the air like smoke? They’ve mostly vanished.
What’s kept me grounded, honestly, is getting back on cam. Every single time. For me, camming there’s always a way to grow, to refine, to make the next performance more meaningful than the last. That’s how I stay in love with what I do.
It’s about showing up, evolving, and always finding the spark again
You’ve been celebrated with award wins and nominations, in those instances, how do you feel about being recognized as someone who is beloved?
It’s honestly something kind of strange and a little bittersweet to wrap my head around. When you’re first starting out, you’re surrounded by all these insanely talented girls and the energy feels endless. But as time passes, that crowd thins out. And suddenly, you’re 12 years in, and you’re one of the names people are saying with reverence ‘legend,’ ‘pioneer,’ ‘beloved.’ It still catches me off guard.
I look back on it all, and it’s kind of overwhelming. My films—my films that were on my laptop have traveled across the world to festivals, and I’ve gotten to do dream-come-true things like winning Cam Performer of the Year in Hollywood. And to think it all started in Michigan, just a year out of high school, camming in my bedroom with a Chromebook. That’s the kind of journey that doesn’t feel real until you sit with it.
What’s beautiful, though, is that I feel like I get the best of both worlds. Most of the time, I’m just living my life like anyone else grocery runs, gym days, just being me. But then I’ll fly off to Europe for a film festival or for an awards show weekend, and for a moment, I get to live this other version of myself.
And I will say this when you’re jet-setting to premieres and standing on a stage in Hollywood, people, your community, your family start toreally see what you’ve built. It shifts the conversation. It becomes less about what you were doing in your room with a camera, and more about the impact, the artistry, the legacy. That’s been one of the most rewarding parts of all.
While camming, have you encountered people who would’ve normally identify as cis-het who, through your shows, got to know themselves better and uncovered parts of their sexuality that would’ve otherwise been dormant?
Honestly, I’d say about 95% of my clients are straight, cis men. I do have some bi and lesbian folks who find their way to me, but most of the time, I’m connecting with straight guys. And camming for as long as I have, it’s been fascinating to watch how sexuality has evolved.
When I first started, there was a lot of internalized transphobia out there like, guys who had never explored beyond very traditional ideas of what sex was ‘supposed’ to look like. It was very rigid, very ‘top a cis woman and that’s it.’ But over time, I’ve seen this quiet shift happen. Now, even within straight cis men, there’s way more nuance.
I meet straight bottoms, men who only bottom for their cis or trans partners and feel totally at home in their straight identity. I have clients who’ve realized that their attraction to both trans and cis women doesn’t make them anything other than who they already are. And then there are those guys who are specifically into topping trans women because it mirrors how they connect with cis women, even down to anal being part of their preference.
Honestly, shoutout to that Broad City strap-on episode it cracked open a whole generation of straight people’s minds. It gave people permission to say, ‘Wait… I can do that? And still be me?’ I think a lot of men became more open to exploring sexuality beyond just penetration in one specific way.
And for me, because I’ve had to examine my own sexuality so closely—partly because of my work, but also just navigating the world as a trans woman I think I’ve developed this real intuition. I’m good at helping people unpack what they like, what they’re curious about, and where that fits into who they are. And that feels powerful to offer people not just pleasure, but clarity
When I was reading your bio, you noted that doing nude chat sessions were new at the time. Do you find this being more vulnerable than leading a fetish show?
I mean, for me, I’ve always been drawn to the intensity, the wild, extreme side of BDSM sessions. That’s kind of where my creative spark lives. But I’ve also come to really understand that sometimes, what someone truly needs isn’t fantasy or intensity it’s just a conversation. Just that quiet, one-on-one connection with someone who’s actually listening.
So I started offering that space too, and honestly, it’s been beautiful. Some of the most meaningful moments I’ve had with clients weren’t during scenes they happened during real, open-hearted talks. When someone feels safe enough to connect on a human level? That’s something sacred. It sticks with you.
And I think my background plays into that. From the time I spent helping Stoya with her Slate advice column, to the years I’ve spent learning the intricacies of sexuality, those experiences have given me a kind of emotional toolkit. Whether someone’s just dipping their toes into sex, love, or dating for the first time, or they’re trying to figure out who they really are, I feel like I can meet them where they’re at. No judgment. Just curiosity, compassion, and honesty.
Because sometimes, the most powerful thing you can offer isn’t the most extreme scene, it’s simply being someone who sees them
We’re celebrating Pride and it’s at time when “entities” have made it so events and festivals that are usually well supported have shrunk, but Queer communities are still very strong and resilient. What does Pride 2025 mean to you?
I think Pride, over the last decade, has started to feel a little bit like the other big holidays Christmas, Halloween, the Fourth of July. Somewhere along the way, it became a season for companies to roll out rainbow packaging without really doing the deeper work. Like, it’s just another color scheme green and red for Christmas, pastels for Easter, orange and black for Halloween… and now rainbow for Pride.
But I guess I’m kind of old school when it comes to what this month means.
To me, Pride isn’t about glitter or branding it’s about our history. It’s about the Stonewall Riots and the fire that lit a movement. It’s about honoring the people who put everything on the line so we could live more freely today. That’s why Pride month, I always spend time learning. Watching documentaries. Reading. Revisiting the stories of queer and trans people who changed the world people like Willem Arondeus, Candy Darling, Harvey Milk, ACT UP, Warhol. They weren’t just icons, they were resistance.
Because we’ve always been here. No matter what governments tried to erase us, no matter how many corporations only show up in June, queer and trans people have always existed fighting, dreaming, surviving.
And that’s what Pride means to me. Learning our collective story. Holding space for the people who came before us, especially the ones who didn’t get to see the future we are living now. Like Candy Darling an trans actress, a dreamer, a sex worker in the ’60s who only got one taste of Hollywood, one glimpse of Europe, and never got to walk a red carpet, win an award or get her dream of being a wife or mother. Her talent was undeniable, but the world didn’t give her the space she deserved.
So when we, as queer and trans people, accomplish things now. when we get the auditions, or fly to film festivals, or get married, it’s not just for us. It’s for them too. For the generations who weren’t allowed to dream as loudly as we can. Pride, to me, is about carrying their voices forward, and living the life they never got the chance to.
