Jason Guinasso’s recent opinion column tries to equate Nevada’s legal courtesans with convicted sex trafficker Jeffrey Epstein’s child victims. They are as different as Nevada’s desert is from Epstein’s Caribbean island.

Federal law defines sex trafficking as the recruitment or obtaining of a person for a commercial sex act through force, fraud or coercion, or when the person is younger than 18. That definition matters. Without it, we risk turning a legal tool meant to protect survivors into a moral slogan. The sexual abuse of children and the forced trafficking of adults into prostitution are not only morally reprehensible, they are crimes. 

To lump Nevada’s regulated brothel system into the same category doesn’t just stretch the truth; it undermines the fight against actual sex trafficking. Decades of research are clear: Criminalization drives sex work underground, where violence and trafficking thrive. Regulation and decriminalization improve safety and let law enforcement focus on real sex traffickers.

As UNLV researchers who have studied sex work worldwide for more than four decades combined, including in Nevada’s brothels, we take issue when anti-prostitution advocates lean on flawed or misapplied research to support their political agenda. Misusing evidence in this way is not only disingenuous, it undermines public understanding and harms the very women Guinasso claims to defend.

Studies that claim to show a link between different countries’ prostitution laws and sex trafficking rely on inconsistent definitions, patchy data and disparate enforcement practices across countries. Some even lump labor, sex and organ trafficking together.

Guinasso cites a study that draws data from border guards, nongovernmental organizations (NGOs) and police, counting both confirmed and “presumed” victims. Its author, Simon Hedlin, is explicit about its limits, noting, “It is very difficult, if not impossible, to test whether the quality of the data is related to prostitution laws” and “data on trafficking is somewhat unreliable to begin with.” In other words, the very research Guinasso leans on warns against the conclusions he draws.

Another widely referenced study built its dataset from government reports, NGOs and even media coverage across dozens of countries. Mixing such varied sources, definitions and enforcement practices makes apples-to-apples comparisons impossible. Yet it is often invoked in debates as if it were definitive.

This doesn’t mean all data are useless. It means we must be careful. Stronger research consistently shows that the main drivers of sex trafficking are poverty, housing insecurity and lack of economic opportunity. Criminalizing sex workers or their clients doesn’t reduce those risks; it heightens them.

The broader evidence points in the other direction: Decriminalization and legal regulation reduce harm. They allow workers to screen clients, protect each other, report abuse and collaborate with law enforcement to target actual sex traffickers. The empirical record is clear: Criminalization fosters exploitation; regulation and decriminalization improve safety.

Nevada’s legal brothels are far from perfect. But they operate under county oversight, with licensing, zoning, health testing and background checks. Workers have security on site and incidents of physical and sexual violence are exceedingly rare. 

Yes, Nevada’s brothel owners have courted media spectacle, sometimes in ways many find tasteless. Guinasso doesn’t have to like a woman being paid to play paintball in a promotional video. But facts matter: The existence of spectacle does not erase the reality that legal regulation creates far safer working conditions for courtesans than the underground alternatives. (And in the spirit of sticking to facts, Guinasso: There is no world record for “jumping titties.”)

But most sex workers in Nevada do not work in brothels. They work independently, and the vast majority are not victims of sex trafficking. Some may face difficult circumstances or turn to sex work because they lack other options. But criminalization only makes their situations worse. For these women, the greatest danger is that reporting violence or exploitation could mean risking arrest. That’s why last year, Nevada lawmakers passed an immunity bill, AB209, that would have let sex workers report crimes without fear of prosecution. Gov. Joe Lombardo vetoed it. If we want to reduce exploitation, this kind of protection is essential.

Anti-sex work advocates such as Guinasso insist we must “listen to survivors.” However, listening means hearing all voices, including those of Nevada’s legal courtesans, who confirm that brothels provide them with safety, stability and dignity. 

Jupiter Jetson, a longtime sex worker in the Nevada brothel industry, tells us: “I’m given free rein to decide what services I do and don’t want to provide, as well as the agency to price them how I choose. I never feel pressured to work with clients who make me uncomfortable. And the money I’ve made from my work here has empowered me to take care of myself in ways that were never possible on the wages I made in my previous jobs — health insurance, mental health providers, healthy food and the ability to take time off when I need to.”

Guinasso’s real argument is not legal but moral. Calling all prostitution “paid rape” is not a legal definition; it is a personal conviction. Whether the exchange of money for sex between consenting adults is morally wrong or an expression of personal freedom is a debate as old as the practice itself. But conflating legal sex work with “sex trafficking” is not only inaccurate, it erases workers’ actual experiences, dilutes the meaning of sex trafficking itself and makes it harder to build evidence-based solutions to real problems.

Blurring the line between a criminal such as Epstein and a legal business owner in Nevada is not just careless — it’s dangerous.

Lillian Taylor Jungleib is an assistant professor in the department of sociology at UNLV.

Barbara G. Brents is professor emeritus in the department of sociology at UNLV and is a co-author of The State of Sex: Tourism, Sex and Sin in the New American Heartland and Voicing Consent: Sex Workers, Sexual Violation and Legal Consciousness in Cross-National Contexts, among others.