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Terry Crews’ Porn Addiction: How He Battled and Overcame It
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As far as pop culture is concerned, Terry Crews is basically the ultimate man.
He played football in the NFL. He’s the unequivocal star of a TV comedy ( Brooklyn Nine-Nine ) and action movie trilogy ( The Expendables ). He starred on the cover of Men’s Fitness , and has the personalized workout to show for it.
He’s been a happily married man for nearly 3 decades, he has five kids, and he’s so enamored with his family life that he wrote a book about manhood . Even his pecs are famous, thanks to Euro Training , and “ Nip Syncing ,” and all those Old Spice commercials .
But up until six or seven years ago, Crews wrestled privately with a problem that affects a surprising number of men: pornography addiction.
In a series of three videos he posted to Facebook over the past two weeks under the heading “Dirty Little Secret,” Crews explains how his addiction became progressively worse because he tried to keep it secret, even from his wife Rebecca King-Crews, and even as it damaged his relationships.
“For years, years, years, my dirty little secret was that I was addicted to pornography,” he says the first video, posted February 11. “It really, really messed up my life in a lot of ways,” he said. “I didn’t tell anybody.
It was my secret. Nobody knew. And that allowed it to grow…. By not telling people, it becomes more powerful. But when you put it out there in the open, just like I’m doing right now, it loses its power.”
Crews also refuted the idea that pornography could never constitute an actual addiction. “Some people denied it,” he said. “They’d say, ‘Hey, man, you can’t be addicted to pornography.’
But let me tell you something: If day turns into night, and you’re still watching, you’ve probably got a problem. And that was me.”
Crews said he overcame his addiction to porn, about six or seven years ago—”thank goodness,” he said—after it had so changed him that his wife left.
“My wife was literally like, ‘I don’t know you anymore. I’m outta here.’ And that changed me. Because you realize: Yo, this is a major, major problem. I literally had to go to rehab for it…Once I was aware of what it was doing to me, it changed me.”
Pornography “changes the way you think about people,” he said in the live video, speaking into the camera from his car. “People become objects. People become body parts. They become things to be used, rather than people to be loved.”
And then he turned the focus on his audience, saying that he realized pornography is a real problem, and “it’s become my battle to help people who are going through the same thing.”
In his second video, he explained how his therapy helped him be aware of his own emotions that triggered his addiction.
“You can’t survive with guilt and shame,” he says. “Guilt says you did a bad thing. Shame says you are bad, and that’s bad because you act accordingly.”
He also explained how women who know men with pornography addiction “have to be fearless” in confronting them, as his wife was with him.
If you think you might be dealing with an addiction—and this quiz can help you figure that out —then speak to a licensed mental health professional and get help. If it can happen to Crews, it can happen to anybody.

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This article is more than 8 years old
This article is more than 8 years old
Do we really still have to ask the question whether you can be an artist and a creep? Photograph: Dave Tada / flickr Photograph: Dave Tada/flickr
Tue 17 Jun 2014 16.27 BST Last modified on Thu 26 Mar 2020 14.46 GMT
Original reporting and incisive analysis, direct from the Guardian every morning
© 2022 Guardian News & Media Limited or its affiliated companies. All rights reserved. (modern)
Call me crazy, but allegations of sexual harassment are a little more important than a magazine's investigation of the famously perverted photographer's everyday life
T he other day, I woke up to find several sexually explicit photos of myself in my inbox. Some of them showed me doing things I'd already written about in the widely quoted account of my encounter with photographer Terry Richardson at age 19. Others showed me doing things of which I had – and have – no memory at all. My body language is stiff, but a close reading of my face reveals nothing, even to me. The lights are on, but no one's home.
"Please let me know if it is indeed you, and if so, whether you think it's two occasions and you forgot, or what," New York Magazine reporter Benjamin Wallace wrote in the email.
This was not entirely unexpected. A little while before that, I came across a photo of Richardson reaching out to grab my breast. It jogged a vague memory of "Uncle Terry" groping me without asking – something I was always terrified would happen when I was modeling for Guys With Cameras – but which I didn't precisely recall happening in the shoot I wrote about. It made me wonder what else I wasn't remembering.
It was not a very good feeling to have, least of all when I'd already spoken at length about my experience in the belief that I was telling the absolute truth. I worried what conclusions Wallace would draw for his readers. My conclusions would, I figured, be somewhat different: trauma – particularly sexual trauma – affects memory, often in ways that allow predators to traumatize their victims while simultaneously rendering them unreliable witnesses to their own lives.
On Monday morning, instead of pictures, I woke up to Wallace's cover story , "Is Terry Richardson an Artist or a Predator?" Is that supposed to be a trick question?
From Roman Polanski to Woody Allen and thousands of "nice guys" in between, it should be obvious by now that artists and predators aren't mutually exclusive. Sexual predators aren't drooling monsters that hide in caves: they are husbands, fathers, employees, friends and, yes, sometimes artists. Why is this so hard for some people to understand?
But figuring the headline might have been written by an editor looking to titillate, I read on.
In more than 7,000 words, the false dichotomy of the headline is never directly addressed – despite all the words the article spends illuminating Richardson's glamorous-but-messed-up childhood, his nepotistic career arc and what various people think of his "provocative" work. Call me crazy, but allegations of sexual harassment and abuse are a little more important than what type of sandwich Uncle Terry likes to eat in the morning.
It treats the central question of Richardson's many critics – Was meaningful consent given for the sex acts in these images? – in a cursory fashion, given that it's the theme this major magazine article promises to explore. It isn't as though the author lacked for material: Wallace and I spoke for over an hour, and the only quote he used from me was in regard to the aforementioned images.
Stories from other people were treated similarly: brief points about their accusations accompanied by parenthetical denials from Richardson's camp. Charlotte Waters's story of assault was mentioned, but accompanied by the "mitigating" mention that she referred to herself as a pervert in an introductory email – almost as though that was a green light for whatever. Sena Cech released a statement about how her story was mischaracterized by Wallace.
As someone morbidly interested in the psychology of criminals and sociopaths – as well as the banal ways abuse weaves itself into our lives from generation to generation – I'll admit that I was able to dissociate myself enough to find the New York Magazine story an enthralling read in much the same way that I devoured the book Devil in the White City or the killer Eliot Rodger's lengthy manifesto. It offers detailed, socially-understandable explanations for Richardson's behavior: his unconventional and even traumatic childhood; his lack of empathy; his seemingly limited understanding of how coercion works; and all the people who enabled him to continue to operate.
There's even some mention of the power structures that keep Richardson insulated from the consequences of his actions, including the fact that agents send models to him and they feel, in the model Sarah Ziff's words, "pressured to comply because my agent had told me to make a good impression". (Ziff, in the years since, co-founded the labor organization Model Alliance to address the systemic problems that make young models vulnerable to both Richardsons and an economically exploitative system.)
Wallace does a good job describing the – if I'm being generous – willful naïveté that Richardson exhibits about his own "work". But his pose is undermined by the apparently savvy way he chooses "collaborators" for his more explicit work. "Kate Moss wasn't asked to grab a hard dick," said one anonymous photo agent – the first real nod to false sense of choice with which Richardson apparently presented his no-name models.
But, even the moments of clarity about the exploitative nature of the system in which Richardson has operated are surrounded by quotes from his "yes men" and women – one of whom is his girlfriend, although that's not mentioned – sounding as defensive and delusional as you'd expect.
After reading more about Uncle Terry's fucked-up childhood, I have to wonder: is the more important question How did he get this way? , or rather How do we stop him? Or is the real question even more complex: What does this say about the fashion industry as a whole that so many people have let him and other, sneakier people get away with this for so long? Would we really be having this conversation if Uncle Terry were just another abusive uncle and/or a member of the economic underclass? Or, conversely, if he were the CEO of a corporation using his position to get blowjobs from employees?
"Art" has apparently been deemed a falsely separate realm in which neither basic labor laws nor ethics apply, so it's not surprising that an exploration of how this man makes art (and uses sex) so badly misses the point about how that art (and the commoditization of it) enables him to get away with something far less than enthusiastic consent. Yes, Terry Richardson has muddied the waters by entwining his sex life –
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