I spoke to women who had been propositioned by Andrew Tate. It wasn’t good

Here’s what they had to say

Note: All the women in this piece have been anonymised for their safety and comfort. For legal reasons, unless suggested otherwise, these statements are the women’s recollections quoted from their own words, and are not my personal views or experiences. Where evidenced, direct quotes have been taken from voice notes and screenshots sent to me by the women involved. These are personal opinions and experiences from third parties and I am not personally able to verify the accuracy of anything thus stated.

“I think her name was (N),” Katya muses to me. “She was sort of the brothel madam. She was in charge of the (webcam) girls and stuff.” Katya, like the others, is strikingly beautiful, with soft blonde hair and full lips. She’s the third woman I’ve spoken to and the information she’s given me so far is the same. “They wanted me to go out there (to Romania) too. He kept trying to talk me into it. Well, he instructed one of my friends who was working for him to find beautiful British teenagers who would do webcam modelling for him and earn him money.” I’m reminded of Epstein and Ghislaine offering incentives for bringing in new recruits from their victims as she speaks.

“How old were you?”

“19,” she says, the discomfort clear in her voice. “I had an eating disorder, and had the body of a literal child. It’s grooming. That’s just what it is.” The word fits. In earlier writings on his personal website, Tate clearly outlines his ideal victims: young, obedient, and submissive. Katya, who grew up near Tate’s family in Luton, was offered £1,000 to participate in the Tate illusion: to pretend to be with him willingly at an event at the Hilton. That’s nothing particularly unusual: lots of pick up artists and life coaches hire models to make them appear more attractive and legitimate. Katya initially agreed. But when no information about this ‘event’ was forthcoming, she became suspicious.

“It just felt weird,” she said. “Why do you want me to meet you at a hotel? And not tell me what for? Am I supposed to sleep with him? What’s going on?” I have to say, I admire her reliance on her gut instinct at such a young age. Katya isn’t from a rich family or area, and £1,000 is a lot of money. “Well,” she responds. “That’s just the thing. For vulnerable young women, that’s a lot of money. A lot of people would say yes.”

“But you consent to the £1,000 to attend an event, not to have sex?” I reply, nudging her.

“Yeah. But you’re going to feel obliged if you attend and it’s expected of you for that money, which is rapey.”

“Yeah.”

“So what did you say to him?”

SCREENSHOT 1

“What’s the top part about?” I ask.

“Oh,” she says. “That’s about the friend who referred me to him. I think he wanted to have stuff to hold over us. In case we stepped out of line or he needed to. To use against each other.”

Yikes. But, not the first time I’ve heard that, either.

Bee is another beautiful young woman: a little older. Deeply frightened of Tate, she consults a legal friend before speaking to me. “Yeah,” she says. “I’ll do it but I want you to change everything about me. I don’t want anything to happen to anyone I talk about.” I agree.

“So what’s so scary about Tate?” I prompt.

“He’s merciless. He just doesn’t fucking care. I’ve heard that he gets his cars on finance in the girls’ (webcam girls who work for him) name and then when they want to leave, or don’t want to do something, he says, ‘I’ll stop making the payments and make you go bankrupt.’ So they can’t ever leave.”

I’m shocked by how many times these stories are lining up. This isn’t a jealous ex or annoyed former employer, this is really vulnerable, frightened women from poor working class backgrounds. “It’s because they don’t know what an NDA is or if they’re bound to it so they’re too scared to say anything,” another woman explains.

“So what happens? If you go work for Andrew Tate’s webcam business?”

“(N) was in charge when I was thinking about going.” That name again. The new Ghislaine? “They are like, oh you’ll make so much money, you’ll get a great lifestyle, you’ll be looked after, you’ll be able to buy Chanel, Gucci…” she trails off. “I recorded it actually. The call.” She sounds desperate to be believed, traumatised even. “But they take like, 60% or 70% of your earnings.” She chokes up. “But then they want more money, for this, for that, for expenses, and they buy stuff in your name, and you get like, 10%.”

“Did you go out there to work for him?” She is crying now.

“No, but people I really, really care about did. And what happened is so, so bad.”

“Like…rough sex? Or violence even? Or was it wage slavery?” I don’t want to put words in her mouth, but the implication hangs there, awkwardly.

“He’s worse than his brother I’m told. That’s all I’ll say.” I’ve heard that before.

“I don’t want anyone to get in trouble,” she says again. “This is all just…just stuff I’ve heard. But he did try to make me go and I’ve spoken to people who did and- yeah. Not good.”

“I have to ask,” I say, for the third time that day. “Was this a submissive thing, as his supporters are going to claim? Like a sex cult, but consensual?”

“No!” she says, firmly. “It was a business. But he’d blur the lines. A lot. Flirt with you, call you his girlfriend. And he’d make you work through your period and stuff. And make you do stuff you didn’t really want to do. Work you to the bone.”

Work you to the bone. Katya said something eerily similar.

“So do you think these women were trafficked? And victims of wage slavery and forced sex work?” I ask the women.

All agree. “He’s a predator. He’s a massive misogynist who doesn’t care about you. It’s basically abuse. You make him money. Everything else doesn’t matter.”

“And (N)?” I ask. “Was -is- she abusive?”

“I don’t know. She does what he says.”

I’m harrowed by what I’ve heard. I have so much privilege to not feel coaxed into faux stability offered by creepy men like Tate, and everything I’ve heard reinforces my awareness of that. The women are tough, determined to speak out. They’re talking to other publications, with a lot more to follow. A documentary is coming out imminently that promises to reveal a lot of what I can’t write here.

“One last thing,” I ask. “Do you know how many girls are talking to the press?”

“Oh,” they muse. “About fifty of us.”