We need to discuss the language we use when referring to digital harm, abuse and crimes. Because right now, in schools, in courtrooms, in headlines and hashtags, we’re using a word that hides the very thing we’re trying to expose.
“Sextortion.”
It rolls off the tongue like a cousin to “sexting.” It sounds digital, flirty, fleeting or a misstep, maybe.
But it doesn’t sound like what it actually is: a form of abhorrent sexual violence. A crime of coercion and blackmail designed to silence and shame. And that’s exactly the problem. The word “sextortion” trivialises the act as much as it dilutes its gravity. It softens the edge of what is, in reality, a brutal abuse of power often carried out against children and teenagers who are groomed, manipulated, and then psychologically terrorised.
“Sexual extortion” is what’s actually happening. And to stop it, we need to start by calling it what it is.
We don’t just describe the world with language, we shape it. How we name harm determines how seriously it’s taken. Whether it’s understood as a personal failure or a systemic threat. Whether victims are believed or dismissed. Whether perpetrators are prosecuted or excused.
Think about the shift from “revenge porn” to “image-based abuse.” The former carried the weight of a lover’s quarrel, petty, emotional, and mutual. The latter reframed it as what it is: a violation, a breach, a crime. We’re overdue for the same shift when it comes to sexual extortion.
“Sextortion” sounds like a hybrid of poor judgment. It echoes terms like “sexting,” “snap,” and “hookup.” It suggests agency, flirtation, maybe a boundary crossed. It sounds, frankly, like something someone got into. “Sexual extortion” is different. It brings us back to the core of the crime: extortion. A criminal act. A deliberate manipulation. A weaponisation of fear.
One word masks coercion. The other exposes it.
When we use precise, serious language, we remove ambiguity. We align with trauma-informed frameworks that recognise power imbalance, not personal failure. We shift the cultural posture from “why did you send it?” to “who demanded it, and how do we hold them accountable?”
Victims are more likely to speak up when they know the system sees what happened to them as a crime. Parents are more likely to respond with support, not shame. Schools are more likely to intervene. Police are more likely to act. The way we name the crime determines who we believe.
Sexual extortion is the fastest-growing cybercrime against children worldwide. It often begins on the apps they use every day: Instagram, Snapchat, and Discord. It doesn’t discriminate by postcode or personality. Victims include boys and girls. Kids who are outgoing and kids who are private. Kids who trust easily, and kids who just want to be liked. Some of them survive the shame. Some don’t. Too many have died before anyone ever called it what it was.
Predators thrive in silence. Shame is a cage that keeps its victims quiet. And vague, casual language allows both to continue. If we want to break the cycle, we need to start where every conversation begins with the words we choose.
It is not sextortion. It is sexual extortion.
And the sooner we start naming it, the sooner we start changing it.
Because kids are dying.
Because systems are still hesitating.
Because words, when used with precision, can be the first step out of silence.
