Monthly Archives: June 2009

Bad Language

Posted on by rmott62

I do not know how I write my experiences without using “bad language”, when it is often the language of my truth.

I choose to use the words that were used as weapons against me. Use words that I made myself into.

I was a poet before I wrote prose, so when I write any word I chose it with great care. No word is there by accident.

I thought I would select a few words, and say their meaning for me.

PROSTITUTE

I was never a sex worker, I was a prostitute.

It was not work, though it was very hard, though it was sometimes paid.

It was named work by others to fool me to think it was normal.

It was not sex, not in the sense that sex is about being connected, if sex has mutual respect, if sex is about no being heard.

It was not sex, it was torture, it was intimidation, it was fear, it was pain.

It was not sex, but others claimed it was.

I was prostituted, in that being prostituted is to a sex object for men to fuck, to own.

I was prostituted, in that my no never existed.

I was prostituted, in that however much money, how many drinks were brought, however I got bed away from going home, however posh the hotel was – I was always under the will of the john, damned close to enslavement.

I was prostituted, in that I was punished by gang rapes and or extreme anal sex.

Prostitution is not a job like any other.

What cleaner is punished by her head shoved down the toilet and anally raped. If you work at McDonald, are you rape in the back alley as “just part of the job”.

That is prostitution for millions of women and girls in the world.

WHORE

That word was a weapon in every inch of me.

Whore was the word that I made myself – coz it stopped me knowing my reality.

Whore was me.

I was dirty, I fucked any man, I fucked them anyway that they wanted.

Whore was me.

I give it out for money, I give it out to not go back to my stepdad, I give it out coz I was too drunk to care, I give it out coz I saw it as suicide.

I lived to fuck myself to death.

Whore was me.

As I lay as in the porn shoots that poisoned my brain.

I was nothing but a whore.

As men spit on me, as men fuck in every hole, as men hit me into walls, as men hit back from unconsciousness to carry on carrying on.

I was nothing but a whore.

So I forgot I could even dream of hope.

FUCK

It was never sex, I was fucked almost to death.

Sex reminds there can be affection, there can be tenderness. Sex is real.

I was fucked.

Fucked so pain was all I knew. Fucked so I could not have hope. Fucked so I knew how inferior I was.

I was fucked.

Fucked was the language of pure hate.

But the sex trade pretend it just sex.

All I was being fucked as a prostitute has nothing to do with sex.

Unless fucking a corpse is your ambition.

CUNT

I cannot use the word vagina when speaking of my prostituted years. Vagina has no connection with my reality.

I was called cunt by johns and managers.

I was their cunt, cunt was screamed at me as I was raped, they always forced cunt down my throat.

I grow to hate the word. I was terrified of it.

I heard cunt and became obedient. Cunt made me a robot.

Now, I choose with a passion to reclaim cunt for myself.

Never again will it used as a weapon to silence me.

When I feel what happen to my vagina, how it was destroyed, how much hate was poured into it, how it was owned, how it too many penises, teeth, tongues, objects, hands force into it, how it choose to die in life.

I cannot named that vagina – it was a cunt.

I want now to bring love into my cunt, give it safety, show it tenderness.

I want my cunt to know it can be proud that it survived and now is making a real life.

END WORD

I think it is a privilege to complain about bad language, for it sometimes comes from a place where language has not been as a weapon against you.

I, like others who are oppressed, know that words are used as vicious weapons, especially when you know the words will become violent action.

I believe that any group or individual who turns words of hate into words that they take ownership of, are an amazing creative and courageous act.

It does help to bring power back.

Look at why you find bad language uncomfortable, before criticising.

Very Mixed Feelings

Posted on by rmott62

After the deaths of Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson, I am left with rather confused.

Both of them were at their best when my years were missing, the 70’s and 80’s were not my time.

I cannot believe the stupid hero-worshipping of Michael Jackson.

He was a child abuser who like the vast majority of child abusers got away with it.

He was completely fucked up, and may of been mentally ill.

He abused himself far too much. He could not communicate outside of dance and music.

But, here I must honest – I love his music until the mid-80’s – then he really lost it.

As a kid, one pleasure I had was listening to Motown.

Jackson Five was my generation of pop/soul. I love them so much.

I watch their cartoons every week. It give me joy, it made me laugh, it made close with my sister – and we talk about at school.

We all had pictures of the Jackson Five, I like Jermaine the best, no logical reason, just did.

But my love of his music was Herbie Hancock and Quincy Jones produce his records. The albums “Bad” and “Thriller” blow my mind.

It was pure pop, but with a jazz master produces it.

I have no respect for Michael Jackson, but I do respect the people that produce his hits. They took his voice, and his ability to be told what to do to make some fabulous pop hits.

I doubt that many cannot dance to “Billie Jean” or “Thriller”.

Also, I normally find music videos pass me by, coz I assume they are mostly rubbish. But the “Thriller” video is one I can watch many times.

It probably coz I am lover of choreography, and the dancers in the video are so brilliant.

I would say I have no time for Micheal Jackson after the mid-80’s, but I would be a hypocrite if I don’t I love music before then.

I also very mixed how I feel about Farrah Fawcett.

She was a sex symbol for much of her career, it advance her, but I would question how much it advance women.

She often work with Playboy, which many women find convenient to forget. They often finance her, when there many other avenues she could go down with her fame.

But, like many women I find I let Farrah Fawcett get away with far too much.

She made us love her, even when it may be a guilty pleasure.

I think I will honest, it kind of helps that she was so damned beautiful and seemed so full of life.

“Charlie’s Angels” was completely and utterly sexist, but hell it was so much fun coz it was so ridiculous.

I remember being in the playground pointing invisible guns and doing half-hearted kung-fu – we were Charlie’s Angels.

I sure Charlie’s Angel warped a generation, but we were happy being warped.

It was a great escape.

Later, I saw that given the chance that Farrah Fawcett could be a very good actor.

I saw “The Burning Bed”, and it had a lasting effect on me. I was working in Women’s Aid at the time, so I know quite about domestic violence – but I was also very detached from my own emotions.

“The Burning Bed” was one of the first dramas that broke me enough to have emotions about battery – it begun a painfully slow journey to knowing that I had battered by johns.

That shows what a great actor she was.

And she was very courageous in her battle with cancer.

It briefly help me to understand my emotions about my stepmum’s experiences with cancer – it was not the same, but there was some connection.

So I am very mixed how I feel about these two deaths, but I cannot write either of them off.

A Report on Yesterday

Posted on by rmott62

I writing what I can of the launch of Demand Change. It was a very good meeting, especially being in a meeting full of people wanting real change about prostitution – not the constant tinkering at the edges.

I arrived early, and looked at the beauty of Westminster. I loved the river views in that part of London, and had many happy times with my Dad there.

The meeting was in a very hot room – or maybe that’s just me with my damned menopause. I was pretty tired after coming down from Manchester.

I write this preamble, because it important to know where I was during in the meeting.

I am still in grief. My years of prostitution are very raw for me. My empathy for women and girls who are still struck in conditions like mine or much worse is so strong.

I cannot be detached about prostitution.

So for the vast majority of the meeting, I was in a great deal of pain – of pain from hearing the truth of my life laid bear.

I had terrible pain inside my cunt during the meeting. It know the rapes, it know the degradation, it wanted to sob, it needed to scream.

I cannot be detached from prostitution.

The meeting was chaired by Fiona Mactaggart, MP. She has been very strong in trying to bring about the Nordic model as law in Britain.

Sasha Rakoff from Object spoke quite movingly of why they choose to go forward with this campaign. Then a speaker from Eaves Housing spoke of their experiences of working with prostituted women, mainly women who had trafficked from other countries.

Victor Malarek spoke of the way johns refuse to know the harms that are doing to prosecuted women and girls -mainly from their pure arrogance that they are always in the right.

I very triggered by his talk, coz though I have written often of the words of johns, it is still very hard for me to hear their excuses, justifications and callous attitudes.

One thing, that made my cunt go into agony, was when he spoke of how some johns choose to go with prosecuted women or girls who are clearly a complete wreck, whether physically or mentally or often both.

This sent me back. I was close to death most of the time I did prosecution. I was not sleeping, I was only eating rarely and only junk food, I was usually drunk, I sometimes had injuries from other johns, I was inside a nervous breakdown with the the space or time to have one.

I was not alive, just breathing. But johns fucked me anyhow.

I cannot be detached about prostitution.

There was a video clip from Rebecca Saffar, who was a survivor of high-class prostitution. She spoke of how the money, especially when it is large amounts makes men believe that own the prosecuted woman. That she should be his sexual slave – so in his eyes there is no rapes, no battery – it just business.

The next speaker was Roger Matthews, a criminologist. He was not very easy to listen to, and I think I was shell-shocked by some of the previous speakers. So I don’t much from his talk.

Gunilla Ekberg, spoke of how the Swedish model was formed. Lynda Waltho MP, spoke of the very slow progress of trying to bring about change in the Commons.

Akima Thomas, from Women and Girls Network, spoke of the terrible long-term physical and mental ill-effects that prostitution has. I found this almost impossible to listen, so I chose to go in and out of what she was saying.

I think it is vital for the reality of the harms, injuries, mental abuse and how life-threatening it is. But, it is inside my body I find it bloody hard to listen to.

I cannot be detached from prostitution.

Elizabeth Carolla spoke of how the sex workers unions were distorting the public debate on prostitution, by portraying the myth of the happy hooker. How most of these “unions” are hand in glove with the sex trade, and their membership is mostly made up of mangers/pimps and johns. Cath Elliot spoke of the struggle to the trade union movement to take seriously the issue of prostitution as a human rights campaign.

Mary Honeyball MEP, spoke of the difficulties of getting feminists in the EU to see prostitution as a human rights issues, especially when so many believe in legalises prostitution and dealing with the harms as they come in quite a haphazard fashion.

Finn Mackay ended with a spirited talk about how to make the drive towards change real.

Then there a few questions, I asked about internal trafficking. I was exhausted by that point.

I spoke with quite few people after, then had to have a smoke, drink and some food.

Eventually I back in Manchester.

I will end with the words of Victor Malarek –

“This is a human rights catastrophe, alarm bells are ringing, and we had better do something to put the brakes on the industry.”

Demand Change

Posted on by rmott62

Tomorrow I am going to the launch of the Demand Change in Westminster, which is demanding that the Nordic model on prostitution is adopted by the British government.

This making it illegal to purchase sex, but decriminalises those who sell sex.

Although, I personally believe in the abolition of prostitution as is is a blatant abuse of the human rights of those who are prostituted, especially women and girls. I do think the Nordic is a massive move towards changing attitudes.

For, if men are made uncomfortable and fearful of having a record for thinking they are entitled to buy women and girls in order to wank into them – then many will not do it.

Many men that buy women and girls are like most bullying cowards.

For they are bullies, and often sadistic bullies.

It is bullying behaviour to think you have the right to own another human being.

It is bullying to rape, to sexually torture, to play life/death games, to strangle, to deep-throat, to gang-rape, to play mind-game with girlfriend experience, to be nice but always have under your control, to see the woman or girl as just for your hands/fists, your mouth, your penis.

Men who pay for sex cannot run away from that they cowards and bullies.

So many of them are cowards, for they are terrified that it would known they go with a prostituted woman or girl.

They do want the law interfering with their right to own women and girls, for them their name will be ridiculed or they may seen as common criminals.

If it so bloody great fucking a prostituted woman or girl, why are the johns so bother that it will be known. Why does the sex trade works so hard at telling johns it will be private.

Why do johns act like criminals hiding in the dark – if it is so ok.

Could it be that they know that much of what they do is criminal – and they are protected by the sex trade hiding their crimes.

For it is illegal to rape. It is illegal to sexually torture. It is illegal to beat up.

All those acts are acceptable in prostitution, and the law turns a blind eye on it.

It is illegal to murder.

But the blind eye refuses to see that.

So, for me and so other women and girls the Nordic model is a damned good start.

For if we start building societies that condemn men for buying other human being just for sex and to have power over them – then all the illegal acts done in the name of prostitution may finally be taken seriously.

Then we can move towards abolition.

Dedicated To My True Friends

Posted on by rmott62

“In her heart she is a mourner for those who have not survived.

In her soul she is a warrior for those who are now as she was then.

In her life she is both celebrant and proof of women’s capacity and will to survive, to act, to change self and society. And each year is stronger and there is more of her.”

“A Battered Wife Survives”. Andrea Dworkin.

This statement could be behind most of why I write this blog.

When I started this blog, I know now I started from a place of grief.

I begun when there was a media storm about the murders in Ipswich of prostituted women.

Somewhere deep in me, I found the whole thing surreal. I had no words for that feeling.

I just know it was rare that deaths of prostituted women and girls were reported or even noticed.

Instead on a daily basis prostituted women and girls disappeared, are made to be forgotten. And this is made unimportant.

I sense a grief in me for I had knew that many women I had known had “gone”.

I sense a grief of knowing death is just part of being prostituted. It just a risk of the job.

My stomach almost throws up in grief at that callous attitude. The attitude that prostituted women and girls are just goods, so a few deaths here or there is no problem.

So in my writing and deep in my heart, I mourn those who did survive.

They move my hands when I write.

As I write, I know that far too many prostituted women and girls are in the conditions I was, and so many that my head wants to burst are in far worse conditions.

I never forget them.

My warrior spirit wants to fight for them as she can for.

Sometimes she feels so weak when she knows the scale of destruction of prostituted women and girls to keep the sex trade rich.

But she also believes deeply in the incredible inner strength of women and girls who are now being prostituted.

It takes so much strength to be detached from the pain, detached from the contempt and hate.

It takes a lot of strength to build a livable illusion when living a life of hell.

Many women and girls survive by having a private space where no john, no manager, no violence can enter.

It may be TV, it may be bird watching, it may small collection of personal stuff, it may be reading, it may just reinventing stories in your head.

Everything that is keep private, when living a life where you made into public property, is essential.

The private saves so many from suicide, from mental illness, and can in the long run help bring back to knowing who you really are.

The sex trade often hates prostituted women and girls having even private thoughts, for fear they may work out their lives have made into a living hell.

So, it is not surprising that many prostituted women and girls live in conditions where sexual violence is a constant. Where there is little gaps between johns.

Not surpising that the sex trade moves prostituted women and girls round different aspects of the “work”.

Not surpising that the majority of prostituted have no security with how they are paid, often finding a huge cut is taken by their boss.

Not surpising that concepts of sexual or physical safety is a pipe-dream for the majority of prostituted women and girls.

All this and many other cruel tactics are used by the sex trade to disorientate prostituted women and girls – and give them no space to have even private thoughts.

My warrior fight for the majority of prostituted women and girls who are told they just goods, just fuck-toys, just living porn.

My warrior stand up for them saying they are full human who have the right to safety, the right to not be enslaved, the right to their own privacy, the right to dignity, the right to their own sexuality.

They have the right to not be a sexual object – but a living, dreaming, creative, thoughtful, caring, adventurous, exciting, joyful woman.

They have the right to go away from the sex trade, and decide who they really – not what they made into.

I cannot live in a world where a class of women and girls are just there for men to choose to wank into.

My warrior spirit has had enough of that.

So I do celebrate prostituted women and girls, for I know they are strong.

Think of the strength it takes to survive rape. Then imagine that rape is one of many, not over a month but in one night.

Think of the strength it takes to survive being battered. Then imagine you told that is your role, and if you complain more vicious violence will done to you.

Every women knows of sexual acts that disgusts or terrified them. Imagine that is something you have to do on a regular basis.

Prostituted women are some of the strongest women I know.

That strength can only increase if they given realistic and practical ways to exit the sex trade.

We need to imagine having long-term and specialise mental health help for exiting. We need to find stable housing, with the safety of being away from the places where she was prostituted. We need to have access to training, further education and other ways to find way to earn money.

We need to imagine that men are punish for rape of prostituted women and girls. That men whether running the sex trade or johns are punish for beating prostituted women and girls.

We need to imagine that buying and selling of women and girls for men to wank into was the most stupid idea that humans invented.

Then prostituted women and girls can begin to have some freedom.

Then they can start teaching the hard lessons they have learnt to all who are prepared to listen.

What I Find Hard To Write About

Posted on by rmott62

I am in a state of deep grief. This has made everything hard, everything slow.

I have never grieve much or maybe although in my life. Now it hitting me for six – (sorry, I am surviving by watching loads of cricket).

I did not know how important my stepmum was to me until she died.

Since her death, the centre of my stomach cannot get stop being freezing. Whatever I do I cannot get warm. But then when I am overwhelmed the head, my arms and my legs are boiling.

It is partly menopause, it is tons of body of my years inside sexual torture – but it also grief from the moment my stepdad enter my life to now.

I write now because, I want say one of the most severe damage done by child sexual abuse and prostitution was that it destroy my ability to have grief.

The dead cannot grieve.

I think I stop crying when I knew it made no difference, I may of been six or seven.

I was too young to know that emotions served no purpose.

I taught myself to be dead. It was never easy, but being alive was harder.

Being alive hearing my mum hated me. Being alive meant knowing my stepdad was going nowhere.

And being alive meant as his hands went in me, pain hit my heart. Being alive meant as his tongue reached down my throat, I felt sickness raise up in me.

Being alive I could not forget his eyes measuring me up.

So I taught myself to be dead.

I shut down that I was grieving.

Grieving I could not just be a child. Grieving I could not trust anyone any more.

Grieving that I knew what I guess others did not know, for nothing was said. Grieving as I taught myself to shut down pain.

I was grieving each time I knew I was still alive.

I shut down that grief.

Grief was truly murdered by viewing hard-porn. That left with nothing, I had to make myself a shell to somehow keep breathing.

Now, as grief enters my essence, I know hard-porn for what it is. I say for me it was a murderer of everything that was left of being a child. It murdered that I would ever know a sexuality that was not tainted with performing.

Hard-core porn is not harm-free.

If all it does is deaden the emotions of the viewer, then that is a harm that is very hard to repair.

And is not a big leap to say that if a male viewer becomes deaden to the reality that hard-core porn is all about pain and degradation, he may not recognise that he is abusing women in his life.

My stepdad will never think he abuse me, for he all he did was finger-fucking, oral sex and rubbing me all over.

He is not a rapist – only perverts rape.

Many men who choose to get addicted to hard-core porn will make women and girls in their lives do sexual acts that disgust or are against their wills. But these men see it as just sex – and would highly shocked to know that they are rapists.

For hard-core porn teaches that if rape does exist – it is only done by monsters who are easy to spot.

And men who use hard-core porn always have the knowledge that they always do anonymous sex with prostituted women. These women will not say no, will do everything porn has said he can do.

He may have brief glimpses of her pain, that her eyes are dead, that some of what he is doing her would disgust most people.

But he can shake off those images, and replace them with the images that porn has shown him.

Images that taught that good sex has to have pain, that pain is him dominating her completely.

Images that say who cares if her eyes are dead, she still has holes to be filled.

Images that say it is not disgusting, if you are happy, that it all that matters. How can be disgusting, when that prostituted woman or girl is a living sewer for you wank into.

Porn is a mass murderer of everything that makes women and men into full humans with compassion, empathy, recognition that pain is a warning that something is wrong, communication and just the ability not to be dead.

I will never stop having grief that porn exists, and often seems in controls of how we communicate with each other.

My grief over my years in prostitution is embedded in my body.

A body that was tortured until it could not have hope.

Hope was a luxury.

My body now screams in agony. An agony without word, only a visceral knowledge.

It is the knowledge of how deep the degradation was. Being made into nothing but a fuck-object has no dignity.

How can I not grieve that.

I grieve all the walls I was fucked against. I grieve all the bed that became coffins to me. I grieve that so places became nothing but places to wonder whether I seen or not, as men fucked me throwing away any dignity I had left.

I grieve that my body was nothing but what men made it into. All biology seemed to be invented so I could be fucked up. I only had holes in me so johns has access to them. My hands were nothing but wank-tools. My mouth and throats was designed for their cocks.

I was not a real woman, I had no existence outside when they owned me.

The sickness of that time, was everything outside prostitution was surreal. I could not know that most of life was about not being owned, not about sexual violence, not about being dead.

I could not know life, so I choose death.

How the hell can I not grieve that.

Now, my Dad and stepmum are dead. Now, the reality that my true parents are dead, now my dam has at last burst.

I am angry that all my years of sexual violence, has got in the way of my deep grief for Dad and Judy. But that is my reality.

I loved them so much, it seemed awful that my grief cannot be placed only on having them in my heart.

But, in the heart of me, I feel some of my Dad helping me survive grief of my whole life.

I feel he is proud of me, and that is something.

Dismissal

Posted on by rmott62

I am always astonished by how many women seemed to believe in porn is not real.

It is or it must be acting. After all, I not would do that to myself, so no woman would or could it.

Well, lets be frank here, the market for fake porn is small.

Take a look at the “normal” porn-user, and look deeply at his utter dismissal of women as humans.

See in his eyes, imagine he is your boyfriend, your father, your neighbour, your work mate, your teacher, your bus driver, your vicar and on and on until you include men from everywhere.

Porn is built on real pain, real degradation, real diseases, real fear, and real external and internal injuries.

Much of porn is built for consumers who want real rape.

So, for me, it comes of no surprise that many of the “actresses” in porn are either tricked or unwilling. No surprise that a large supply of those actresses come from other aspects of the sex trade.

Much of porn is cheap porn made bandit style.

Girlfriends, flatmates and wives filmed having aggressive sex, only to find it sold and out in the world without their permission.

And the sick bandit style of filming prostituted women being sexually tortured.

Filming gang-rapes is cheap porn. And the cheapest filming the sexual murders for porn.

These are not extreme, these are real. Real women and girls placed into hell, just for the great male wanking.

Men buy porn because they want to see the real pain in the woman’s face.

The male consumer will not be tricked by pretend pain.

If he want double anal, it must degrade her and give her agony. He wants the penis rammed into her throat until she in terror, a bonus if she is sick or faints.

A popular sport in porn is spreading sperm all over her face.

What the hell does have to do with sex for pleasure – it can only be a power-trip for the male consumer.

Remember porn is first and foremost about getting the male consumer to buy more and more; it has nothing to do with sex for the performers.

Sex is a red herring when place inside commercial porn.

It not sex, it having power over women, making women into dirt for the male consumer to hate and place all his negativity onto.

So as someone who was inside porn scenario, it felt and was sexual torture – porn will renamed it as sex. Named as sex, all the pain and degradation is made invisible.

For as long as the male consumer can wank to destruction of women and girls, the market will increase.

So to the women who choose to view porn as “just acting” – don’t dismiss the pain of those real women.

For to do so is to say they are not real women.

Human Rights Not For Us

Posted on by rmott62

Dedicated to Feminamist, for her post “The Not Universal Declaration of Human Rights” on her blog “Din of Inequity”.

Every time I think the reach of porn can no longer shock me, there is always something that sicken me.

There it was on one of Larry Flint’s endless websites, his backing of the Human Rights Declaration. God, he so cares.

Cares as he supplies constant images of women and girls for men to wank to. Cares as he supplies access to brothels for men to be as violent as they wish. Cares as he makes jokes of raping young girls, raping women of every ethic minorities.

Larry Flint is a bastion of human rights, especially if you a man who thinks humans consists of your entitlement to buy and sell women and girls for your orgasm.

Lets look at some basic human rights and see why the majority of prostituted women and girls are excluded from them.

Well, in theory we are “born free”.

But pimps, managers and johns don’t give a damn about that freedom.

Each day that a woman and girl is in prostitution, the freedom she was born into is eroded.

And there are some girls from many backgrounds and cultures, that have known nothing but sexual violence and coercion. These girls know nothing but their role as a “whore”.

There is no freedom in that.

“The right to dignity”, that is a dream that far too prostituted women and girls cannot even dream about.

Where the hell is the dignity in being a fuck-toy for any and every man who buys her. Where is the dignity of torture sexually, mentally and psychically so those men can have their precious orgasm.

Where is the dignity in being sold by pimps/managers as bags of sugar. Where is the dignity in being move around from country to country, from one city to another city, from one kind of sexual exploitation to yet more sexual exploitation.

Tell is there dignity in being “three holes and two hands”.

When I see the “right of dignity”, I continually reminded that prostitutes women and girls are not considered full humans, for they have no right to a dignified life.

“The right to freedom and safety”, that is a sick joke to far too many prostituted women and girls.

To be frank, I cannot cope with that, coz in the sex trade it tortured upside down.

It has become the right of johns to treat prostituted women and girls with as much violence as he can imagine. It is his choice and “right” to not use violence.

The prostituted woman or girl has no say in her her body is used.

She is just goods, her views and words have no relevance. After all a car does not complain if it’s owner uses it for banger races.

Many prostituted women and girls are sold and brought because they will be beaten up, sexually tortured, brought close to death and even murdered.

All it is called is a “specialise market”, so that’s ok then.

Hell, Larry Flint wallowed in the profit he makes from ignoring the safety and freedom of women and girls in the sex trade.

“The right not to be enslaved”, another joke for too many prostituted women and girls.

Is it not enslavement to be brought and sold. Is it not enslavement to be close off from the outside world. Is it not enslavement to have no say whether your mind and body is raped, tortured and treated like you are worth less than the shit in a sewer.

But I am forgetting prostituted women and girls are fully human, so it does not count.

“The right to privacy”, another dream for many prostituted women and girls.

There is no privacy when your sexual organs are rented out to be fucked over and over and over and over.

All that is left is the remnants of a war inside the prostituted woman and girl’s most private parts. She cannot own her own cunt, her own hands, her own mouth, her own anus – how the hell can she reach the luxury of having privacy.

She cannot be private, when she must be open for any man’s use.

She has no privacy if he chooses to film and spread her image where ever he can. He can choose to make her into porn, there no privacy there.

He can choose to pass around other men. Choose to expose her when she is not working.

He  chooses what is private and what is placed in the public sphere.

The john, the pimp and the manager control and manipulate the “privacy” of the prostitute – she can only gain privacy if it suits their access to power.

But, of course part of the manipulation is to convince the individual prostituted woman or girl that she choose to “lose” her privacy.

That makes her liberated.

“The right to legal protection”, usually as long as it does interferes too much with the supply of fuck objects that men must have.

Better to than say it is “private” and the state should not get involved.

Strange how prostitution suddenly becomes a “private matter” when anything get slightly close to questioning the buying and selling of women and girls for men to fuck.

“The right to think what you want”. Ha, not with brainwashing that is common in prostitution.

Free thought comes about with access to many views, access to a variety of information.

Free thought comes a place of safety, safe enough for the mind not to blank out the reality of the world it is in.

How can a prostituted woman and girl have the freedom to think in a free manner, when all information tells her she is nothing but a fuck-object, who should just get used to violence being a norm.

Who would not in that situation switch off their minds, for free thoughts in that environment can and does kill you.

“The right to a decent standard of living”. Another goddamn joke.

Money can be a sickness in the world of prostitution.

If men choose to pay lots, they can owned you body and soul. Many of the most extreme violence I survived was from johns who paid too much.

They knew I would not say of their t0rtures, not say of their hate – I knew I was owned. I knew I had no rights.

Then the sex trade often “steal” money from prostituted women and girls.

The vast majority of prostituted women and girls are underpaid or have the money taken from them.

Many young girls who are prostituted do know they have the right to be paid – they do it for a bed not to go home, do it for free drinks, do for access to drugs, do coz they think they are loved.

Many girls are sold for a profit and never see a penny.

I still hate money sometimes.

That is just a few way that Human Rights have no relevance to prostituted women and girls.

It part of my war to say that this is a basic wrong

Saying Goodbye to Judy

Posted on by rmott62

I am going away until Sunday, for on Wednesday it will be my stepmum’s, Judy, cremation and a thanksgiving service for her life.

My family and friends  of Dad and Judy have been very devastated by their deaths, for they were loved by so many.

Their goodness and respect for others, including self-respect, is deep inside me and my brother and sister.

We are very proud to carry that forward.

Their courage in the last eight years, when they were both so ill was amazing.

What was so inspiring was even when they were in pain or very scared, they both lived life to the full, and try to put joy into the world.

I miss them deeply – but they are in my heart.

I will be back on Sunday – please think my family.

My Inner Warrior is Weeping

Posted on by rmott62

I would never give up, or even give in – but this year is driving me to a very edge of my limit.

I suppose I thought I could live without too many emotions, hell I am so used to that.

But grief wipes aways that robot, replacing it with horrific physical and mental pain.

It more that screaming, more than weeping, more than fury – it more than I have real words for.

It my inner warrior saying – Why the fuck do I have keep on keeping on.

I hear her screaming. Screaming loud enough to sink Europe into the sea.

Only her screaming is silent to everyone else.

She is screaming – Fuck your “facts” and statistics about prostitution. Listen to scars inside me.

Listen to moments I was raped. Listen to the “truth” when I thought it my fault I was there.

Don’t tell me my reality, not if all is your cardboard cutout of what an exited prostituted woman should be.

Hell, hear about being gang-raped so often that it can no longer matter. Know it is nothing like in films – where so often it is one man after another, taking turns. Where it is mostly the vagina being fucked.

Christ, I could only dream of “normal” rape, and the “manners” of gang-raping in turns.

I was screwed in every hole in my body, all at the same time.

Bloody think on that. I was drowning in gang-rapes. Breathing was happening, but god knows how.

Gang-rape in prostitution is being murdered, then brought back to life  – only to be murdered again, and brought back to life. Over and over and over and over.

How can you care about that. How you not go dead to that.

My inner warrior remembered and is screaming now.

Now she is screaming at the what seemed endless anal rapes. Not “normal” anal raping, but done with as much sadism as possible.

No warning, no liquid used, no caring that there was terror in the room.

No I was anally raped with legs against each other, face up against a wall, or suffocating in a pillow. I was anally raped with a hand round my throat. I was anally raped in gang- rapes with a penis in my throat.

Hell, as I had always knew all violent porn fantasy is old hat, and just close off from public view coz it “only” done to prostituted women and girls.

Anal raping is just porn made real.

My body screams knowing that.

My inner warrior is weeping. She weeps but everyone just says – wow you are so brave.

She weeps that words of academia is taken above and beyond the visceral truths of prostituted women and girls.

Oh, she knows , with a bitter heart, it much easier to read books with footnotes, and statistics and quotes from more academics and a few carefully prostituted women.

But the words of prostituted women must fit the thesis that the academic has thought before she started her work. Mostly keeping prostituted women in two roles – the “victim” who lived in non-stop horror and has PTSD affecting her every moment if she exits. Or the noble survivor, who may become outspoken, who fights against the sex trade and has no life outside that role.

My warriors is weeping tears that burn into her skin – how the hell am I alive now, if I am just those stereotypes.

Yes, prostitution must be destroyed – my warrior is on the war-path in words and non-violent actions to make that a reality. But to live from 14 to 27 inside prostitution, meant that it was many things to me.

If it was horror 24-7, do you really think I would be able to write this blog.

No, the terrifying thing about prostitution is the mental abuse done the moments of “niceness” from johns. The times that managers/pimps make you feel you are “special”, that they “respect” you.

Those are the moment that are poisonous and can made me paralysed.

Those moments trapped you into prostitution.

Hear and know those moments if you truly want to rid the world of prostitution.

For without hearing that, you will alienate many prostituted women who are confused that they “enjoy” some of what they have to do.

My inner warrior is weeping so much that my Dad is dead.

He was a man that I not only loved, but give a solid base when everything else was floating.

My warrior is full of fury. It is her fuel.

She is furious that the clearer that she speak, the more others translates her words to fit some stereotype of their own.

Yes, she is proud to speak out against the sex trade, but the more she speaks out and writes out her pain and grief, the more she knows it is complex.

To say it is just incest lead to prostitution lead to PTSD – that is too simple, too neat to be a complete truth.

When I know it never felt that way. Yes it makes sense in a book, but I write the pain and confusion of real life.

There are too many gaps and silences in those simple linear way of viewing prostitution.

Where are the words for the fury that drives a damaged teenager into danger and pain. Where are the words that explain the defiance that helps you survive prostitution.

Those words matter.

My warrior is furious for she believes that many exited prostituted women are the greatest feminists ever – but they hate that label, coz feminists too often let them down by only seeing them as stereotypes.

My warrior now is exhausted.

So that’s all folks.