Viewed from its highest point, the internet is a landscape of celebrity sex tapes. Pamela Anderson, Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian made the genre famous. Their careers to date have still to escape the shadow of those dark videos – and still the films keep coming.

Last week, a clip starring the 23-year-old X Factor judge Tulisa Contostavlos and an apparently disembodied penis appeared online. But, in an unprecedented move, during the ensuing tabloid racket and the censorious blogs with their variations on the word "slut", Tulisa responded with a new video.

Also shot in dim light, in what looks like the corridor of her flat, she told fans "her side of the story".

"When you share an intimate moment with someone you love, that you care about and trust," she said, holding up her holiday pictures of ex-boyfriend Justin Edwards, the man who leaked the clip, "you never imagine that at any point it will be shared with people around the world."

She added: "It's a pretty tough time for me, but I don't feel I should be the one to take the heat for it. This is something he took upon himself, to put the footage online... I'm not going to sit here and be violated or taken advantage of."

She tweeted a link on Wednesday; watching it I whooped out loud. I did so because, as well as being a threat to the traditional post-sex tape narrative, where the woman is quietly disgraced, this was an unlikely feminist moment. A noisy, true, important message to Tulisa's teenage fans. They may well have some personal experience of this kind off thing – 40% of teenagers have texted naked pictures of themselves or received pictures of their acquaintances. In a survey of 11,000 teens, aged 11-14, four in 10 thought it was "appropriate" to forward their friends' pictures of classmates topless: the survey showed a significant shift from a time when young people merely viewed internet pornography, to today, when they create it.

Much has changed, too, since Anderson's day, when the stars of a sex tape, baby oiled, siliconed and candlelit, were in on it together: however coy the couple might have been when a film went viral, the woman was probably complicit in its release. In order for a tape to leak 10 years ago, an actual "tape" would physically have to change hands. Today, sex tapes (sex MP4s? Sex mov.files?) can be filmed covertly and lurk on many boys' iPhones, but the notoriety that the woman must live with when they're screened remains.

As much as I whooped at Tulisa's video, I can only imagine how uplifting it might have been for young people to watch; people like "A", a girl I know whose teenage years were torturous because an ex-boyfriend forwarded intimate pictures of her to his new girlfriend, who went on to publish them online.

The pictures inspired violent bullying, led to weeks off school, friends lost and exams failed. When she tried to change schools her teacher recommended against it, sighing that a move wouldn't be enough – the pictures had percolated the whole town. The pictures remain there, I'm sure, engraved on the internet like initials on a desk. A's ex-boyfriend, incidentally, left for sixth form a hero.

Sex tapes are not uncommon, but what is rare is for their female star to be unapologetic on their release. To discuss ideas of shame, intimacy, consent and privacy, instead of agreeing to a sad-faced interview in the Sun, pictured in polo-neck and natural makeup to denote modesty – that's unusual.

There's no shame in happy sex, Tulisa asserts. The shame should lie with the person who uses it as currency against his partner's wishes, who uses a record of it as a weapon. She's not in the wrong for having sex, for enjoying sex, or for being filmed – her (until now anonymous) ex should be ashamed for betraying her, embarrassing her and attempting to damage her career.

And to broadcast this message on her own terms to "tell her side of the story" without the firm, clammy hand of a manager or editor influencing her words, does a lot to chip away at our solid wall of cynicism. After all, much of the attraction of a celebrity sex tape is the rare opportunity to see a star un-PRed – the "real" them.

It's always fascinating when a celebrity reclaims the power of a scandal, ripping it from the claws of the media, then handing it back, reshaped.

Like Max Mosley, who used the News of the World's exposé of his S&M parties with prostitutes to first sue the paper for breaching his privacy, then bring a case against the UK's privacy laws in an attempt to force the press to warn subjects before publishing stories about them, Tulisa has bitten back.

In today's muddy, laddie world, we take our feminist moments where we find them. Just as it was exciting to hear celebrities taking on the press during the Leveson inquiry, it's thrilling to watch Tulisa take revenge on both the man who exploited her and the commentators who passed judgment. And using the tools most often exploited to hurt girls (Twitter, where hashtags like '#iHateWomen' trend, and YouTube, under each video a stained ribbon of sexist comments) in order to deliver her message too.

Imagine if every shamed female celebrity, every reality star pictured smoking while pregnant, every untoned actress holidaying in a bikini, were to do the same. A high-pitched cacophony of raging women, broadcasting on YouTube, their hair slightly fallen after a day dodging doorsteppers. Women off the telly but without autocues, reminding us that they go deeper than an image, or than a simple statement from their manager.

At a time when our privacy seems to be leaking out from between our clasped hands, with Google revealing plans to track our movements across the vast, bumpy map of the web and Twitter admitting that it grabs users' address book data, Tulisa's is a modern lesson in image management.

When embarrassing information leaves your control today it's not just your family that might see it. It's not just a diary left open on a bed, a sheaf of nude beach snaps forgotten on the counter, it's information that the whole world can access.

When this happens (and celebrities, darlings, it will) instead of hiding away, or reading out the same scripted apology we've heard a thousand times, one that "regrets" and "takes responsibility for actions", one that says sorry for "letting down fans", Tulisa's is a guide to guerrilla action.

By reclaiming the internet tools, by taking ownership of the event, by speaking out "in her own words" and refusing to be shamed, she's sketched out plans that every scandalous soap star and broken politician can follow. Inside, I'm still whooping.