Monthly Archives: September 2009

Damned Polanski

Posted on by rmott62

I do not like to write about the “news” on this blog,  but the sympathy for Roman Polanski is getting my goat.

It just the language and attitudes have sent me back to how it was living with my stepdad.

All the language of poor suffering artist, man who is misunderstood.

And the classic – she consented. Or as Polanski said he had “sex with a young woman”.

Basically we mustn’t judge any abuser, wasn’t some kind of mistake ,or just more likely, that society doesn’t understand the respect and the love.

It is highly disturbing how much liberals want to let abusers off the hook.

This is highly triggering for me, coz Polanski was a hero to my stepdad.

I am absolutely sure he is a hero to many child rapists.

He is the image the smug attitude that it just a silly mistake.

We must excuse Polanski coz he had suffered. This is true – but –

But the vast majority of girls abused as children do go on to rape and mentally abuse others.

But no-one was forcing him to rape a child, he could of stop and got some humanity any time.

No I am sorry about his traumas, but that is no excuse for destroying another person’s life.

But liberals let him off for being a great artist.

Shit, that is just weak.

I think he is a very good director, especially the films from 60’s to early 80’s. To be honest he made two films that I love – “Rosemary’s Baby” and “Chinatown”.

But his actions as an artist must never be used to make his violence invisible.

I love James Brown, but I was bloody pleased when he was put in jail for his violence .

Being  famous should never be a free pass to treating women and children as pieces of dirt.

But every day, famous people get little or no punishment for raping children, for beating up their partners, for abusing women and girls in the sex trade – for being like the majority of men thinking it no big deal to make women and children want to be dead or to just murder them.

For if we choose to allow famous men to go unpunished, we are sending out the message that men can and will whatever violence they like. Just make sure it done to women and children, for they are unimportant.

I very much doubt that Polanski will be punished.

But at least the world knows he is a bastard.

PTSD Can Be a Slow Death

Posted on by rmott62

I do not want to die – I want to live more than anything in the world.

But living inside PTSD is too often like living in hell.

When I prostituted, I survived by not knowing my own reality, not feeling the agony, not allowing to know how much I had been turned into dirt.

PTSD has given me back my truth, and it is a slow death.

I can never be whole again, I have had to face that head-on.

I can never be the person who was not molded into nothing but a sex object.

Each man who use me did leave a piece of his hate under my skin.

I cannot leave behind the fear of not knowing whether men were going to stroke me or smash me – whether they just do straight sex or use sex to torture me.

I still find it hard to want to alone with any man except my relatives. I still can read body language even when I know I safe.

I still try to be two steps ahead of people I meet. I cannot trust until I have tested that they will not manipulate or betray me.

I have been put off sex, sex it not a natural act for me.

Sex is a role I only get if see what the other person wants.

I hardly ever have sex for me, I don’t care to let go that much.

I may let go – and the screaming, the sobbing, the rage, the hate, the complete it is not fair will come out, as I should so happy.

I am scared to orgasm, I have far too much baggage – so I steer clear of sex with meaning. I cannot be that vulnerable.

PTSD give me back so much of the agony of what it was to made into living porn.

I cannot be on the toilet if my anus is hurting, I cannot remember that anal raping was my life.

Sometimes I am crying on the toilet, sometimes my anus bleeds coz I live with pain too long.

I live with sickness in my stomach. Sickness of a grief that cannot be repaired, only cared for. My stomach knows my reality, and wants to reject it.

I get headaches that won’t go when I sleep, when I do relaxation, when I walked it out, when I take painkillers – my headache only goes when my rage has left me. I do not see that happening soon.

And my mouth and throat knows my truth, that was rammed so often and with such hate and rage, that I can do was somehow remember to breathe.

I find hard to swallow, hard to breathe deeply, hard to relax to sleep – that is PTSD.

How can I be whole when my essence was stolen by johns, by managers, by people who turned a blind eye, by being raped till I no longer cared, by sadism being my norm, by never having justice.

I cannot be whole – just I will always go forward inside a gaping wound that must refuse to see.

Response to Last Post

Posted on by rmott62

I feel that things for me, and for many exited prostituted have become more silenced by feminists turning away from the realities that we have known. Our truths are pushed aside, our pain is pitied, but with very little practical action to end that pain for the future.

That is why I wrote down Andrea Dworkin’s words, for they are a beginning of forcing a change.

Feminists must stop being academic about the ugliness of the sex trade, and should start getting their hands dirty.

To make real change in the sex trade will be painful, will force out griefs that have been buried deep, will mean staring into the utter cruelty that men can do to women and girls,

That is unavoidable.

But to turn away is to not be a feminist, for then you are betraying a whole mass of women and girls – and like the sex trade making them sub-human.

If you truly want to end rape, truly want to end torture, truly want to end slavery – then you must end the sex trade.

This my response to the Andrea Dworkin’s, my response comes from a suppressed rage, my response come from a grief that is my shadow.

I respond for her words are still true in 2009 – and as a feminist that makes me furious, as an exited prostituted that hurts me to the core of my soul.

Every time I read her words of being prostituted is “not have tomorrow in your mind”, my truth screams inside my stomach and forcing my mind to remember.

I lived sometimes by never acknowledging I was alive.

I would wake angry that I was still breathing.

For to be alive was to be raped, was to be a robot, was to what others named as unacceptable.

Tomorrow was just something I fall into, I had no control.

I, like Andrea Dworkin, write this blog for prostituted women especially those who have exited, and are still living in trauma.

I write for the many women who have no voice, or if they do have a voice but others refuse to listen to their words.

These women are my priority, they are my backbone.

For by knowing the voices of exited women, we can know that prostitution is not about abstract ideas, and nice discussions on the types of prostitute, the scale of harm, the difference between forced and voluntary prostitution – all this is clean and tidy, but little or nothing to do with the reality of being prostituted.

Not when being a prostitute – whether a high-class escort or street prostitute, whether working in a brothel or in a massage parlour, whether on the net or working in hotels – means being under the control of men who buy you.

Being prostituted means johns have complete permission to do as he likes. That is he can rape and batter, or he can be smooth talking and slow at sex. He can buy under-aged girls, he can go abroad and destroy women and girls just for fun. He can experiment with sadistic sex. A man can murder.

All this can be done because we have form a class of women and girls that made into the shit that others scape from their shoes.

All this happens for prostituted women and girls have no protection.

The law treats the women as scum, or just ignore that there is rape or any violence.

Hospitals and doctors do not want to know how your injuries come so often. Ignore anal tearing, ignore that abortions are common, ignore bruises in sexual areas. Make it what it can never be, or if recognising the woman may be a prostitute see her as a victim or a slut.

But more likely placed it as a mental health problem, then everything is a nice neat parcel.

All those who could help, choose to turn away or just hand out condoms and speak a little over coffee – all they do is to send you back into danger, and go home feeling they have done good.

Help without real change, without stopping the world to listen to what the prostituted woman needs and wants, without speaking of violence, without some questioning that it a free choice  –  help like that is putting a bandage on a cut throat.

But for me the priority is to heard the truths of what is to be prostituted.

Heard of the mouth that has pain that may never leave – pain of penises and objects shove down the throat till eating and even breathing is full of fear. Know that went on what seemed like forever.

Know that penetration was not just the vagina – know that being raped in the vagina was just normal rape – that penetration was in the anus, in the ear, in the eyes, any holes however small was penetrated. Know that went what seemed like forever.

That is a small part of knowing what prostitution is. Feminists have to face that brutal truth, if they truly care about ending violence against women.

Andrea Dworkin is right that it is impossible to survive the sex trade and to remain whole.

Too much of your essence is stolen by having men making you into an object that is only purpose is to be fucked. To be made into that object involves brainwashing, extreme violence, being closed away from the outside, rapes so often that you have to be named as sex, and living with the knowledge that you may be murdered.

That is how the sex trade makes prostitutes on a mass scale.

To be part of that mass, is to  lose that you are human.

How can anyone come out whole from that, it is impossible.

Not when part of every man that use you is embedded under your skin whether you remember them or not.

That pain and grief is what many brave exited prostituted women are trying so hard to communicate with feminists. Only to hear too often that it is too graphic, too hard to hear, too nasty.

Well, you hear about gang-rapes of “innocent” girls, you look at vicious rapes and incest, you stare into domestic violence. All that is hearable, for they are women who did not choose to be abused.

But prostitution is different, for it can be claimed that it must be a choice, for normal women would not allow men to treat them that why.

To be honest, if you choose to think prostitution is a choice, I cannot be bother to reason with you.

Only if you want to believe that some women are born wanting to be fuck-machines, that it is ok for johns to do sadistic sex on them coz they have high pain thresholds or just love degradation – then just don’t make out that is some feminist statement of empowerment and liberation.

What I ask is that feminism make the abolition of the sex trade as a centre to their work on violence against women.

As long as the sex trade continue to thrive, any work on rape, child abuse and battering are just waste  of time – for men will know their violence is condoned and will maybe hide it a little – but not feel any fear of punishment or condemnation.

We cannot make feminism work until we smashed the myth that there must a class of women and girls named prostitutes that only purpose is for men to fuck, to place their hate of all women as they fuck them.

We cannot make feminism work whilst women argue the toss whether it a choice to have a group of women and girls that men can sexually tortured.

Feminism can start working better if it includes the realities of prostituted women – with all it’s pain and grief.

I do know this is very painful and hard – but to allow the sex trade to continue is to allow the mass destruction of women and girls.

Happy Birthday, Andrea Dworkin

Posted on by rmott62

I am deeply indebted to the words of Andrea Dworkin. This is from her speech in 1992 – “Prostitution and Male Superiority”.

“…. If you have been in prostitution, you do not have tomorrow in your mind, because tomorrow is a very long time away. You cannot assume that you will live from minute to minute. You cannot and you do not. If you do then you are stupid, and to be stupid in the world of prostitution is to be hurt, is to be dead. No woman who is prostituted can afford to be that stupid, such that she would actually believe that tomorrow will come.

…. I can only say that premises of the prostituted women are my premises. They are the ones that I act from. They are the ones that my work has been based on all of these years….

…. It is the use of the woman’s body for sex by a man, he pays money, he does what he wants …. Prostitution is not an idea. It is the mouth, the rectum, penetrated usually by a penis, sometimes hands, sometimes objects, by one man then another and then another and then another and then another. That’s what it is ….I ask you to think concretely about your own bodies used that way …. I want you to feel the delicate tissues in her body that are being misused. I want you to feel what it feels like when it happens over and over and over and over and over and over and over again, because that is what prostitution is ….

…. And so many of us are saying that prostitution is intrinsically abusive …. Prostitution in and of itself is an abuse of a woman’s body…. But prostitution is very simple …. In prostitution, no woman stays whole. It is impossible to use a human body in the way women’s bodies are used in prostitution and to have a whole human being at the end of it, or in the middle of it, or also at the beginning of it. It’s impossible. And no woman gets whole again later, after …. But nobody gets whole, because too much is taken away when the invasion is inside you, when brutality is inside your skin. We try so hard to communicate, all of us to each other, the pain …. The only analogy I can think of concerning prostitution is that it is more like gang rape than it is like anything else.

…. Every woman is that same innocent woman. Every woman is taken by surprise. In a prostitute’s life, she is taken by surprise over and over and over and over and over again. The gang rape is punctuated by a money exchange. That’s all. That’s the only difference …. You give a woman money and whatever is that you did to her she wanted, she deserved ….

…. The money is real, more real than she is. With the money he can buy a human life and erase it’s importance, from every aspect of civil and social consciousness and conscience and society, from the protections of law, from any right of citizenship, from any concept of human dignity and human sovereignty ….

…. It is the presumption of most prostituted women that one knows nothing worth knowing …. What matters here to try to learn what the prostituted woman knows, because it is of immense value. It is true and it is hidden ….

I think that prostitutes  experience a specific inferiority …. But a prostitute lives the literal reality of being the dirty woman …. She is the woman covered in dirt, which is to say that every man who has ever been on top of her has left a piece of himself behind, and she is also the woman who has a purely sexual function under male dominance so that to the extent people believe that sex is dirty, people believe that prostituted women are dirt.

The prostituted is, however, not static in this dirtiness. She’s contagious. She’s contagious because man after man comes on her and then he goes away …. In general, the prostituted woman is seen as the generative source of everything that is bad and wrong and rotten with sex, with the men, and with women ….

She is, of course, the ultimate anonymous woman. Men love it …. She is perceived as, treated as – and I want you to remember this, this is real – vaginal slime. She is dirty; a lot of men have been there …. Her anus is often torn from anal intercourse, it bleeds.  Her mouth is a receptacle for semen, that is how she is perceived and treated …. She bleeds because she been hurt, and she got bruises on her.

When men use women in prostitution, they are expressing a pure hatred for the woman’s body …. It is a contempt so deep, so deep, that a whole human life is reduced to a few sexual orifices, and he can do anything he wants …. She has nowhere to go. There is no cop to complain to, the cop may well be the guy who is doing it …. When she needs medical help, it turns out he’s just another john …. She is literally nothing ….

…. But the prostituted women are treated like a certain kind of object, which is to say a target …. But a target you go after …. What that should tell you is how much  aggression goes into what a man does when he seeks out, find. and used a prostituted woman ….

What prostitution does in a society of male dominance is that it establishes a societal bottom beneath there is no bottom. It is the bottom. Prostituted women are all on the bottom …. Every man in this society benefits from the fact that women are prostituted whether or not every man uses women in prostitution …. Male dominance needs to ended, not simply reformed, not made a little nicer, and not made a little nicer for some women ….

…. This means taking away power from men …. They have too much of it …. We have to take the power that they have to hurt us away from them …. Any man who has enough money to spend a woman’s life in prostitution has too much money. He does not need what’s he got in his pocket. But there is a woman who does.

…. So when you accept, when you compromise, when you turn a blind eye, you are collaborating. Yes, I know that your life is also at stake, but yes you are collaborating, both things are true, in the destruction of another woman’s life. I am asking you to yourselves enemies of male dominance, because it has to be for the crime of prostitution to end. To end the crime against the women, the human-rights crime of prostitution, and everything else is besides the point, a lie, an excuse, an apology, a justification, and all the abstract words and lies,  justice, liberty, equality, they are lies. As long as women are being prostituted they are lies …. These are choices. I am asking you to make a choice.”

My next post will be on how this has inspires me, and why it must go further.

Revolution in Me Part Two

Posted on by rmott62

Last October I wrote a post “The Revolution in Me” in which I confronted the feminist attitude to prostituted women whether they working or exited.

I wish to write more on that theme, for my anger, pain and grief has not toned down. To be honest, I find it very hard to trust the majority of feminism will take prostitution seriously, and will not just push it away as something too messy for good women to look at.

I write because I believe too much of feminism betrays prostituted women on a daily basis.

These women are on the front-line of male violence, but their truths and experiences are ignored or placed into the neat language of academia so feminists can be detached.

Yes, I know, hearing and believing the truths of prostituted women is very painful, I know it will or may trigger your own stuff, I know it may be too horrible to believe.

But it you say are a feminist, especially if you say you against male violence against women – then if you choose to turn away from the nasty truths of prostituted women – then you never, ever end male violence.

Prostituted women know too much about male violence.

These are women that are raped on such a regular basis, that the language of rape has no meaning to them.

Feminists need to hear and listen to prostituted women on how it not rape – it is a constant sexual torture. A torture where to survive is to learn to adapt.

Learn to forget it could classed as rape – no named it as work, named it that you must enjoy it, named it that you must be a whore because why else does it happened over and over and over.

Recognise that the way that the vast majority of prostituted women survived by refusing to know their own reality.

Do not speak in easy terms of joining up dots, unless you are able to hear that logic may be of  little or no sense to the prostituted women.

I was abused as a child – but I did not connect that with prostitution until many years after I had exited.

No, I was convinced I chose to be prostituted, chose to be sadistically abused because that was who I was.

I thought I was just bad, some kind of rebel.

I thought it was my nature.

I had been effectively brainwashed to accept the unacceptable.

If prostitution is to be spoken of as rape – then say rape factory – never compare it rapes where faces are known, where support is given, where some believe it was rape, where rape is two or three times in a lifetime.

See it industrial rapes.

Known the trauma of surviving prostitution is having no faces, not being able even to know the numbers of men that raped you, living with turned living porn, never knowing if a john will casually murdered you for extra thrill.

Then know, to survive all that is to never name it as rape coz then all hope would go. Then suicide is the only real answer.

I think prostituted women have very few words for their realities, and are slowly with grief, fear and rage, they are attempting to form a language. Feminist need to not speak over them as they are discovering themselves.

For many prostituted women, forming a language that suits their realities is staring directly into a terrifying void.

The sex trade told many women how to be in the world, prostituted women survived by being the role of the prostitute.  This meant forgetting who they were before prostitution, and not being able to understand how to be, if they are lucky enough to exit.

Ordinary life is surreal for prostituted women. Many prostituted women lived inside control and being made invisible.

I got so used to just doing as men told me, and forgetting to think much – that I would get very confused when I ask my own opinion or even choosing what to buy in a supermarket.

I lived in a world where men brought me stuff sometimes, so I forget the daily rituals of ordinary life.

Surviving prostitution is learning the ordinary is safe and not full of people wanting to manipulate you. That life can be boring is so wonderful.

Feminism must make listening and really hearing exited prostituted women central to their battle against male violence, not some side issue that they may look at if they get time.

Time is too late for women being sexually tortured in brothels, murdered because the murder of a prostitute is seen as one way not to pay her, prostitutes being made to do hard-core porn coz they are easier to manipulate.

Time is too late if feminists accept there is a class of women that men can buy and sell. Accept that by inventing a language of choice, by inventing women who a different attitude to pain and sex, by saying it not degradation it some kind of business agreement.

I have betrayed by the language of the feminism of choice and then seeing prostitution as empowerment.

My reality of violence ia made invisible – my reality is the reality for the vast majority of prostituted women.

As someone who still call herself a feminist, I deeply believe the only real solution to prostitution is to fight for abolition.

Abolition because for the majority of prostituted women is slavery – and their human rights have been destroyed.

Whilst prostitution is made just one of those things – rapes, battery and murders of women will continue and be made unimportant.

With prostitution in the world – there will be no solution to male violence.

So feminism had better take prostitution seriously, if it is really women-centered – or is it just nice women that count.

Music Can Soothe

Posted on by rmott62

I have been in a very bad way, and at times like this I fall into music.

I need music to quiet, I need it to scream.

I need music to enter my brain with its intelligence, I need music to be so wild my brain switching off.

I need music to find joy in my past, I need music to show I have a future.

I need to reject music that take to places I was nearly destroyed, I need to have my own taste in music.

I need to know how music was used to make me compliant, I need music to give me the strength to be defiant.  

I need music to be there to close out all other senses, I need to music as loud background as I write this blog.

Music made this blog.

Music force life back into my body.

Music give me nuggets of joy reminding me I was human.

God, music has been in the whole of my life – but now I can let it in without fear or just using to close down.

I Write as I Listen to Etta James

Posted on by rmott62

I am writing listening to my personal favourite Blues/rock ‘n’ roll singer.

Etta eases my heart and allows to reach into spaces I usually ignore.

She makes me cry – god bless her.

I am very worried that blog is off-putting to my loyal readers.

In my decision to confront my past with the words used here, my decision to not sugar-coated my lived reality – am I going too far.

Let me say, this may be my PTSD talking.

At least, the part of PTSD that tells me there is no proof for anything that happened to me. The PTSD that reminds me that if it did happen – I must of wanted it.

For isn’t my trauma coming from the mental violence of being made into dirt. Isn’t my trauma coming from forgetting I was human, and knowing I was an object to be poked.

I could not imagine it all.

Not when friends from my background and upbringing are so ignorant of prostitution and it true impact. Not when my body is continually destroyed by the agony of knowing.

What my mind dismisses, my body screams out.

What I need, wants but by christ I need, is to know my words are having some kind of impact.

Please comment, it a small rest for my PTSD.

Memory is Not There

Posted on by rmott62

I have lived with a fractured memory for nearly all my life.

I have had to get used to the fact that male violence and hate stole my memory and any sense of a solid reality. That is a solid harm that porn and prostitution does. In this I want to focus on what and how I do remember.

I write because I deeply believe that the emptiness that I feel and know, is because I had to destroyed my own reality in order to stay alive and keep some degree of sanity.

This I know because I hear and believe other survivors of the sex trade who has lost years of their lives. They and I know in our guts it was stolen from through brainwashing, sexual torture and being taught that rape was normal.

To survive that, you must learn to blank out everything. Not just the violence, but the peace before and after the violence. Not just the hate, but the happy times in-between.

I forget my life outside the sex trade. I forget holidays I had where I know I was safe. I forget the few friends I was close to. I forgot how to love the parts of my family that loved me.

That is the true harm of porn and prostitution.

I know I some occasional sex with both men and women that was good – but it such a vague memory.

Instead crashing on top is the violence that was what I been brainwash to believe was “real”.

I remember trying to relax with friends, trying to be normal. Sitting having picnics, going punting, going to the seaside – always not really knowing how to truly fit.

Always in the back of mind I needed someone to tell how to act, what role I should perform. Always I expected someone would fuck me, and didn’t understand there could be friendship without manipulation.

To be honest, I did not understand the world outside of sexual violence, I did believe people could be good, that everything was not some nasty game.

That is one the major harms of porn and prostitution, is that makes the good unreachable, makes the normal surreal.

God, I remember so much violence. But I never remember in any order, just some horrific mass of sickness and grief.

I can say I enter the sex trade when I was 14, I think I left when I was 27.  But I can never be firm on anything.

I learnt to survive by refusing to know my reality.

When I was paid money, I could dissociate it from the sexual violence.

When as happened the majority of the time it was not as clear-cut as cash for sex – I had no language for what happening then and too often now.

Let me say I would have sex to not go home, not caring that I knew the men hated me. I had sex for the price of two drinks. I had sex so a man could pretend he had a girlfriend, only to angry that he didn’t so did sadistic sex on me. I there so men could experiment with anal sex. Could do gang-rape. I was known as the slag that would do anything for £5.

What words are there to fit so much self-hatred. What words fit that men know how to manipulate someone who so dead.

All words cannot reach into that screaming ache that I carried like a shadow.

I may not remember in a factual way – but christ I know that I was brutalised, continually rape as sadistic as they could imagine, I was degraded in a piece a shit.

Don’t expect to remember time and places- just believe it happened – believe coz my guts say it is true.

And believe all the exited women who silence is deafening. A silence that shows words have been stolen from by men choosing to do constant unspeakable acts of torture on them.

What I say on this blog is the top of the iceberg of really happened to me – for even for me things are unspeakable.

I speak and write what I can – coz the sex trade thrive on the assumption that if women manage to exit they never be able to express the horrors they had to live with.

The harm that porn and prostitution does is a stealing of the voices of truly wonderful and courageous women.

Don’t ever think porn and prostitution does no real harm.

Anger Blocks Me

Posted on by rmott62

Every time that I have tried to write a post in the last few days, my internal anger has got in the way. Instead, I have gone into distractions.

I spent hours on youtube, seeing old film clips and tons of music. I have disappeared into the TV.

But anger will not leave me.

I kind of guessed September would be hard.

Hard coz when I do have money, it was when I go on holiday.

Hard coz I giving my speech in October, so my sickness and depression has risen to the surface.

And this year it is bloody hard coz I miss Dad so much, I often saw him in September and walked round Richmond.

I am boiling with anger at the general ignorance and refusal to learn, that so many have about the sex trade.

Why when the same people who make the choice to be ignorant will be highly informed on Iraq, will do on research animal torture, will read tons about climate change.

But want to keep prostitution simple.

Either simple boxes of child abuse leads to prostitution, that it is must be a drug problem, that it is an issue of having safer working environment.

It could be just a problem of trafficked women and girls who are not prostitutes, they will be classed as sexual slaves. The problem is children as prostitutes.

Or the problem is the discounting of the women who choose to do sex work. The women who treat it as a business, and are making a success of it.

I am angry at the constant stereotyping of women and girls in prostitution, for I would consider the concentration on them is a red herring.

However good or bad the conditions are for the individual prostituted woman – she is just goods to brought and sold.

In the end, the focus should be on the sellers and the buyers, not the goods.

After all, goods will no control on how they are sold, no impact on how the buyer wishes to treat them.

It is the choice of the sex trade to have women and girls that are treated well and with relative respect.

Hell, it a great recruitment to have women to say that prostitution is safe, that it is work where women have control over men, where it can short-term work to gain loads of cash, even have women in top positions to show it can be a career.

Many managers will hide behind these women, knowing that the vast majority of prostituted women and girls are never allowed to have any respect, no they are just the shit under their feet – but it is highly profitable shit.

Johns loved to fantasies that they are respectful and that obviously the prostitute is with him because he is a sex god, and also she must be in love with him.

They think being gentle, that not hitting, only sexual acts that he consider to be normal – makes him a nice guy.

No, it just makes him a hypocrite.

If he was a nice guy, he would not be buying a woman or girl to masturbate into.

Anyhow, so many nice johns will still hit, and then say sorry. Will do anal sex, thinking that it just what you do to prostitutes. Will participate in gang-rape, or filming sexual violence, for by being part of a group they can take no responsibility for their actions. Will strangle, or do sexual acts that may harm/kill the prostitute – but if they named it rough sex, then it means they are still nice men.

Fuck nice men.

No, the responsibility for any violence done to prostituted women and girls, laid firmly with the male entitlement to have a system where it is ok to buy and sell, just so they can have fuck machines.

For to be prostituted is to be made into a machine.

What else can it be when sex is rape repeated over and over and over and over.

When being raped is so constant that having a body is forgotten, is just a machine where men stick in penises, where men move the body to positions that makes easier for it to be like porn.

This body is nothing but a machine that will be the wishes of whatever men want, or how the porn image he is imagining.

Being a prostitute is only made better, if you learn to forget human traits.

Such as remembering that you have your own desires, that you can feel pain, that there could be degradation, that you have a brain that wants to escape – just forget that as a human that you are worth so much more than your body is experiencing.

God, my fury is that by focusing on women that are prostituted, and attempting to blame or pity them, we are allowing the male violence to be more and more invisible or make excuses for it.

Christ, nobody forces any man to buy or sell women. It is a choice, because it so easy.

No-one makes a john rape, beat up, strangle, gang-rape, copy violent porn on prostitutes. They do because they can without any consequences, they do it because they see prostitutes as machines so why would they feel pain, terror or think they may die.

Men have to take responsibility for participating or choosing to ignore a system where women and girls become sexual slaves, where sexual torture is a norm.

It not a time to tinker round with making their working environment safer.

Safety bells only work if managers give a damn about the welfare of their goods.

Condoms only work if the johns decide that will wear them. How do you make a john put on a condom when he going to rape you, when he has proven he will use violence to get his way.

No-one can fully safe when you kill someone in less than 60 seconds. Do you stop the violence half-way through the rapes, does that make it better.

But more important, how to stop the violence when the sex trade works by saying there is no real violence.

Rape is not rape, it is the job. Rape is just rough sex, just johns experimenting.

Men pay to beat women up – and these women must enjoy it.

The sex trade will even find excuses for the massive rates of murders of prostitutes – usually that she made some basic mistake that meant she was no longer safe -i.e., she work on the streets when it is “safer” indoors, that she was an addict so it was not safe, that as a woman who may have been abused as a child, she did not understand how to form boundaries.

It goes on and on how the sex trade makes violent to prostituted women and girls invisible.

What makes me angry is how men outside the sex trade choose to believe these blatant lies.

Your complicity is allowing women and girls to live inside sexual torture.

Bloody wake, especially is you claim to care about torture.

How Do You Mend a Broken Heart

Posted on by rmott62

I have left violence behind.

I have left hate in that other world.

I will not allow degradation to come back into my life.

But my grief, pain and rage is overwhelming.

I can never be whole after the sex trade, not with a broken essence – not with my heart ripped into pieces.

This post is some explaining of the true crimes of the sex trade – that utter devastation of women and girl’s essences. This post is written from a scream, is written inside sobbing.

This post is not from the rational, that is too safe. It not about logic, it all about what it to survive being made into the shit under men feet.

I write of surviving endless rapes, constant smashing up, continual words that deaden the heart.

Then it was normal, just the way it was. Then I, and so many women and girls, survived by making it what was not.

We said we enjoy it, it was our idea to do it. We said we had power over the men.

We claimed we got enough money to make it worthwhile.

We thought we would never allow anything we didn’t want to happened. We thought we could keep ourselves safe – it would be our own fault if it went too far.

We had to believe in what was never true, coz otherwise our minds would be destroyed.

Now, my heart breaks knowing the reality.

Tell me how do you mend a heart when it has known and lived inside torture.

When every part of the body has been used for torture. Not a cell was safe.

How can mend that. There can slow healing, but never a solution.

I can cry, I can sick it up, I can talk and talk, I can write, I can scream, I can fall into TV and music, I can stroke the cat, I can dance, I can eat out, I can go away, I campaign against the sex trade, I can alternative therapy, I can go to counseling, I can prayer, I can fight – bloody hell, I can do so much.

But I can’t mend my broken heart.

Not when the torture that was the sex trade stole my very essence.

Now I have exited, I am having to formed a world where I matter, where I am human, where by god I have the right to be an individual.

That is not easy, when I was so used to being an object. So used to fitting myself round what others wanted me to be.

Being a role without feelings, without thoughts and without any sense of safety – that was my life.

Now, I have to learn that I can make my own rules. I have to learn that my opinion matters, and may force a change.

I now live in world where I do not have to be a role, for I am safe enough to be me.

Only, I often think I have forgotten who me is. The me that was stolen by the sex trade.

I find that me in my broken heart.

I wish for support from others as one to mend this broken heart.

Do what you can.

If you prayer, prayer for all women who have exited the sex trade, prayer that their hearts feel joy and hope.

If you are doing actions against the sex trade, know that exited women need you to fight with courage, with support, with a sense of humor – but please don’t give up.

If you wondering if the sex trade is that bad – open your ears and eyes to voices and words of exited women. Read Shelley Lubben, read “Not For Sale”,  look at Melissa Farley’s research. Just let the voices of pain go in you.

Just know survivors of the sex trade are everywhere. They are used to being silent about their pain, their rage and never showing the trauma. But they are all round you.

Their hearts can never be mended in that silence.

That silence comes from knowing so few give a damned about women and girls in the sex trade.

That silence can be broken if other are willing to stop the world and say the voices of exited women matter. Sure it is hard to hear and understand – but it is the less that can done to mend their broken hearts.

It may hard to hear – but if hearing is hard, then think how hard it was to be inside that torture.

Stop turning away, for that just means the sex trade is winning.