Monthly Archives: April 2010

Too Much Pressure

Posted on by rmott62

I am under a lot of pressure at the moment, and this post is some indications of how others can stop throwing logs in my way.

I am in the middle of grief for my Dad, which is stronger than last year.

Going to Cornwall, and placing his and my stepmum’s ashes into the ground, made it real.

I feel empty, angry, so sad and I miss them so damned much.

I am feeling real emotions, not emotions as I try to imagine to fit in with others. I do not understand emotions, all I know is to allow myself to go with the flow however terrifying.

I do not need others telling how I should be feeling, speaking of their own grief without giving me space to say mine, not to say it was a long time ago get over it.

Give me space and time, and I know I will be fine.

But put pressure on me, and my trauma is triggered.

Is it that the whore is too hard to feel grief, so that’s why others think I should carry on carrying on.

Let me say here in black and white, my PTSD is on a very fragile edge at the moment.

Today, I am relatively ok for I have finally slept, but it only because today I have avoided everything that is damaging stuff for me.

I am avoiding people who have “discover” that prostitution is highly damaging, and want me as their token whore who will speak out.

I am avoiding those who tell me what they think prostitution is, never listening or hearing what I experienced and how listen to other women who have exited.

Rather I am told all prostitutes have pimps. I am told how pimps are wearing bling and are followed by his girls. I am told that incest is linked to prostitution, that all prostitutes were abused as children.

I am told just coz I had a bad time, doesn’t mean I have to constantly attacked those women who are happy. That the violence, trafficking, degradation and under-aged abuse are really rare.

I am told hell it was very sad what happened to me, but it was a long time age, just get over it.

I am told that if it really was as bad as I claimed, I should be dead or mentally ill. I am told I must be writing fiction, for people would not do such terrible things.

I am told I am arrogant, I am told I am too angry, I am told am a fantasist, I am told that I lie because I feel guilty that I enjoy it really.

Well, I say think bloody hard before you write or speak what you think you know what prostitution is, or who you think I am.

Just be quiet and still,  leave space and time to listen and really hear the multiple voices of exited prostituted women.

They might be messy, over-emotional, or scared to let out any emotions.

They may full of rage, a rage not just from the individual prostitution, but from centuries of whores being ignored and having put their words over them.

Listen and hear these whores – and find many of reasons that some men really hate women and girls.

Listen and hear the planning, the extreme violence and the throwing away of a whole class of women and girls.

Stop speaking over whores – shut up and really hear.

In Memory of the Lost Youth

Posted on by rmott62

After writing my last post, I have been in the deepest grief.

I had my youth stolen from me, it was ripped out of me.

Now, I have silent screaming giving me a stomach ache, blocking up my throat – making me fight hard to find a future for my adult self.

That is the less I can do for surviving the hell of prostitution.

I can never get back my past – but maybe it can force out my rage, my knowledge that it was no accident the tortures I had to live with.

I do not know why I still alive, why I keep my mind, why my body is relatively doing fine – it may of inner strength, or more likely sheer luck.

Part of my lost youth, is the women and girls I knew who lost their minds, were left with damaged or died.

They are inside of me, ghosts making me fight harder to end prostitution.

Their lives meant so little to so many – johns just went on to other prostitutes, profiteers just replace them with other girls and women, the general ignore their existence.

They were made no-one and nothing.

They were someone to me, someone I chatted with, someone who try to stop me, someone who was angry with me, someone I let myself love – they were and are real to me.

Not the whore, not the prostitute, not goods to be used – they were always human to me.

And I know why I hate the sex trade, when I know how their lives, their bodies and their minds were throw away.

I cry now at the hardness of my youth.

I had no space for angst, no time to know emotions, no love, no fear, no anger, no allowing in pain.

I was just a shell – a hard shell covering up how empty I had to be.

That is not being a youth, that is just an existence.

A youth should be a discovery of your sexuality.

Most whores do not have that luxury.

Sex is put into them, nothing to do with what she wants or needs.

The whore will act out whatever sex fantasy keeps her safe, keeps the john distracted enough not to rape, bash or murder her.

What the hell does have to do with her personal sexuality.

If she is at an age when she be emerging into her natural sexuality, then she will confused, angry and scared of everything and anything to do with liking sex.

This can get embedded into the whore, even when she has exited.

I still find giving and receiving normal sex, whether gay or straight, very unnatural.

I cannot sex without being a role for the other person, I still carry in the back of mind I must please coz violence is inevitable.

I hate this, for I am still scared of being sexual. I have a libido, I get lust, I love the idea of having good sex – but the whore in me is not sure if it exists, or if it does that I would able to let it in.

That is the theft of my sexuality.

I may write more about my lost youth soon, but it is very upsetting, so I stop now.

Enter My Nightmares

Posted on by rmott62

THIS IS TRIGGERING –  but the truth of what happens to the prostituted must be known.

Living with PTSD is to live with nightmares, nightmares that are just memories.

Let me told you what I see when I shut my eyes, and then you will know why prostitution is not harm-free. It was no fun time for me then.

And now it embedded in my dreaming, in my sickness, in my inability to grieve, in shutting down ways forward.

I am a strong fighter, I have huge determination – but by christ, my pain, my terror and my knowing too much that becomes unspeakable is slowly eroding me.

Last night, I had many nightmares/body memories of what johns thought was fun.

Fisting enters my dreams.

Nothing erotic, no gentle easing in, no idea that I wanted it.

No this was how whores are fisted.

I was fisted in the vagina, usually I thought myself lucky if was one hand without another object or other hands. I thought I was lucky.

I had fist/fists rammed down my throat.

I was fisted into my anus.

I live with those memories. God, I try so hard to close them down, I try to pretend I must have wanted it, I try to imagine it was not so bad.

I try to forget fisting nearly killed me. The pain would give small heart attacks, my mind would prefer death to my reality.

Men give me extra money, men complained if I bled on them or even fear made me shit.

These men had read or seen films that fisting was clean, women loved it, it made them real men.

Forcing their hand up my ass made them someone – for they made me no-one.

They could walk away, and I left with fear of any pain in my anus, still choking trying to unblock my throat, still deciding to be unadventurous with sex.

They had their fun, they took control – and I still dead inside.

I get nightmares regular of choking/drowning.

There is no mystery or hidden message to that – my throat was a porn playground for many years.

I was strangled, I had objects shoved down my throat, I had my face put into water as I was penetrated or anally raped, I was deep-throated, of as I have said fisted.

So I cannot breathe deeply, I get afraid of eating, I get sick, my throat spontaneously blocks itself.

Those men thought it was hilarious to bring to the edge of death, only to save my life.

They could imagine themselves some kind of hero for not killing the whore. After all many men would have killed me or other prostituted women and girls – so they must be the good men.

They did not know how much I wanted to die – why live in a world where sexual torture was my norm. Where I touch death, feel a brief moment of peace, of silence, of being free – only to forced back into life, and more hate, more terror, more pain, more degradation and more inability to feel.

That is what they save me for. Well, to be honest they were ok with raping me, coz everyone knows you can’t rape a whore. Ok with bashing me senseless, that was just part of the game.

But to kill me – now that would be a crime, they may not be able to talk their out of that.

Though I was constantly told no-one gives a shit about a murdered whore – so they would get away with.

I knew this, as I lived in a world where prostitutes just vanished, no searching for them, no concern they were missing as for most people they had never existed in the first place.

I knew some had been murdered, and no-one was bothered – except a few other prostituted women and girls who had them in the back of their minds, always carrying the fear they would be next.

In my nightmares I am murdered and thrown away, sometimes I cannot believe I am still alive.

I often get nightmares of being gang-raped.

These are never simple nightmares, they are made of pain in every hole in my body, of hands and penises/objects capturing every part of me.

I am not going to feel, I refuse to know what is happening to me, it cannot and will not be true.

It must just be a horror movie, it is reading too much Edgar Allen Poe, it is all that porn shit I was made to read or watch, maybe I am just Anita in “West Side Story”.

Gang rape is meant to be an one-off event, a crime that society claims is unacceptable – maybe some male fantasy – but not what I know and get nightmares about.

Gang-rape in the world of prostitution is a punishment, is the reserve of special customers, is the ultimate porn-dream.

Gang-rape for many whores is repetitive, a constant threat, a great way to keep her under control.

As the electric fence is to farm animals, gang-rapes is to the prostitute. She may ignore it most of the time, only every time she is gang-raped she goes back into shock, and her only way to cope is destroys all memory in order to not kill herself.

I do not know how many times I was gang-raped, I just know it became normal enough that I learnt to go dead as the room filled with men, and I know all hope was pointless.

In my nightmares, I feel that beginning as men eyes go into me, seeing only how to fuck me bad, I feel being held down, I feel some of the poking and rubbing.

Then there is so much blanking it out.

I always know some of the endings, as my body has pain in places it can’t even think about, as I feel bodies on me suffocating me. I go in and out of consciousness.

When they decide they are bored, or have no more money – I am left on the bed, or thrown out onto the street.

I had injuries I would not know, I was bleeding from many holes – I did nothing. I did not cry, I would feel the pain, I refuse to be scared.

It had happened before and would happened again.

Always in my nightmares, I am left in that zombie-state, I am inside the centre of hell.

These are examples of my nightmares.

I write them to show how damaging prostitution is.

If you make the choice to support prostitution, you are allowing that men can own women and girls – and in that ownership, all the violence I have described is ok, for it just a business exchange.

It an issue of human rights – nothing to do with legitimate work.

Put the rights of prostituted women and girls to safety, to dignity, to freedom and to be a full human above everything else.

Help me build a world where future women and girls don’t have to live with my nightmares.

Somebody’s Daughter

Posted on by rmott62

For the next three nights BBC 1 is showing a drama about the lives of the prostituted women murdered in Ipswich, “Five Daughters”. From the reviews, it appears to be a very respectful programme – especially as it the murderer is of little importance, rather the focus is on the women and their families.

The title – Five Daughters – reminds us that all prostituted women and girls are someone’s daughter, may be a sister, may have friends, may be a cousin, an aunt, working in other jobs.

Most prostitutes are ordinary women who have just had too much go wrong in their lives.

I am sick and tired – if not exhausted – that when prostituted women and girls are brutalised, when they continually raped, when their minds are destroyed by the endless degradation and violence, when they are murdered, they not seen as women and girls just the label prostitute.

This shows the success of the propaganda of the sex trade, that these women and girls are nothing but goods to be used and thrown away.

They can never be viewed as humans with rights, humans with emotions, humans who know pain, humans who can know joy, humans who are trapped, humans who know humiliation, humans who know it is a matter of life and death.

They count – they count so much all that is left for me is to keep screaming for them.

Let’s me speak of a few friends who I knew.

Friends who thought escorting was the safe way to be prostituted – only to be smashed into walls, to be raped in every hole. They had to smile, to say it was good.

They were somebody’s daughter.

Friends who worked the streets in constant fear that a john would use her a dustbin. Often not paid, but instead thrown out of moving cars, who beaten so money is the less of their problems.

They were somebody’s daughter.

Yes, you will read or hear of brutalised prostituted women and girls all the time.

It is too common to be consider news, only a serial killer is reported.

But see the common violence on typical English city.

Prostituted women and girls are raped on an industrial scale in flats, in brothels and in private parties.

They are somebody’s daughter.

Prostituted women and girls on the streets are always at risk of battery, rape and murder.

They are somebody’s daughter.

Women working in saunas are expected to accept violent sex without question.

They are somebody’s daughter.

There is a market for under-aged prostitutes who will accept any sexual torture and humiliation.

They are somebody’s daughter.

Women in clubs are touched up, are made to do sexual services for special customers, are stalked.

They are somebody’s daughter.

Those women on porn being raped, degraded and made into nothing.

They are somebody’s daughter.

All those prostituted women and girls murdered and made into nothing but the dead prostitute.

They are somebody’s daughter.

So, if you can watch the programme, but keep in your hearts all prostituted women and girls that the sex trade has destroyed.

The Money-Makers

Posted on by rmott62

Prostitution only works if it makes a huge profit, it not a charity, it is not a leisure experience, it is not about sex. It is to make money and to destroy those who are prostituted.

What makes me sick is that the profiteers are made invisible, or placed into a myth.

Lets look carefully at the stereotype of the pimp.

In the movies, on TV and in pop music he easy to find. He is usually wearing bling, often has a stable of prostitutes that he treats as dirt, he is respected or feared by other men.

Hell, the pimp is a man’s man, a hero of urban life, he does what other men dream collects and throws away women and girls – always making tons of money.

Only the pimp is a myth for the vast majority of prostituted women and girls. For most the profiteers are invisible – but always poisoning their lives.

A more common way that many young girls are driven into prostitution is persuasion by people they thought they could trust.

Many young girls are groomed by young men who play the role of the boyfriend. They are attracted by placing the girl as the centre of their attention, buying her presents, speaking of love, protecting her – all to trap her.

Most of the young girls have lived lives without love, without affection, without any sense of who they are. These girls are ideal prey for the sex trade.

But then so are the young men doing the grooming. They are manipulated and used by the sex trade. They are just viewed as recruiters, by the sex trade as disposable rubbish.

Many of these young men have not known love, had no stable background, are viewed as trash by all round them – for them being a “pimp” is one way to have a role that bigs them up.

But if you follow the money, you will find these young men never make it big, no the vast of the money goes to profiteers in the sex trade who never do any of the dirty work.

These are men who view themselves as legitimate businessmen, club owners, publishers, film producers, brothel owners.

They need a constant flow of prostituted women and girls, they need soldiers to recruit them – but what they don’t need is their name is associated with all the messy side of prostitute.

These are the men that every time a john fuck a prostitute, they are grabbing a profit; every time someone wanks to porn on a computer, they are grabbing a profit; every time you use phone sex, they are grabbing a profit; and every sex tourist is feeding their greed.

I hear endlessly about being a moral shopper – but for some reason prostitution is treated as if it just some individual leisure event, just giving money to an individual prostitute, so that makes some kind of way of empowering her.

That is utter bullshit, and goddamn justification for the unacceptable.

The money rarely goes to the prostituted women and girls – and often if they do make a profit, it in order to totally owned by the sex trade and johns.

Making money in prostitution can means losing all rights.

Money means all mental, sexual and physical torture is made invisible – for money means she wants it, and anyhow as the sex trade claims she is just goods, and not to perform would robbing the john.

Money means she has no right to be human, she is holes and hands, she is goods to move into whatever aspect of the sex trade makes the larger profit – she will use until she is wore out or her manager grows bore of her.

Being a prostitute is learning to be nothing.

I sorry if this post is very muddled, my thought are full of fear and confusion when I try to confront the money-makers.

I want you to hate the Larry Flints, the Hugh Heffers of the sex trade – they have made themselves the acceptable face of the sex trade, they achieve so much by creating themselves as cult heroes.

They are destroying millions of women and girls, and always keeping their hands clean.

Just know that the sex trade is making billions and billions – so much money that my mind explodes even thinking of it.

It is often claimed that it is the second most profitable business behind the arms trade.

A business that includes torture, rape, kidnapping, under-aged sex, brainwashing, murder, giving severe STDs, destroying economies, telling that all women are sex objects to be endlessly used by men, and destroying the ability of those prostituted to be full humans.

It is a business that only reason to exist is for greed, to spread hate into the world, to promote degradation of women and girls, to separate sex from real human contact.

It is not a business that should allow to exist – not with all that destruction and hate.

Those who profit are seeth in the blood and dead bodies of generations of prostituted women and girls.

They are mass murderers.

I Can Dream

Posted on by rmott62

These are a few things that I dream of, in no particular order – but all could happen if we try pushing hard enough.

I dream of a world where no girl is so desperate for love, affection, human touch, some kind of contact – that she is made to believe her only worth is whether she is fuckable or not.

I dream of a world where pimping is not slang, see as cool, a joke, some urban music culture – where pimping is viewed as not just negative, but murdering of women and girls, and killing the souls of too many men.

I dream of a world where exited prostituted women are recognised as having massive amounts of traumas. They are not moody, they cannot just get over it, not exaggerating or making a fuss.

I dream of a world with specialist treatment for women who manage to exit prostitution. Not leaving gaps shutting women coz they are not on an addiction, not believing if it not connected to poverty, not open to women who work indoors.

I dream of a world that help could be long-term – not for six months and everything is fitted. Maybe it may be years, maybe a few months, god, maybe the damage is embedded for a lifetime.

I dream of a world where every man who makes the choice to buy “sexual services” through prostitution, phone sex, porn, lap-dancing, escorting, sexual tourism and on and on and on – that all those men are made into criminals. No more excuses, no more sob stories, no more I treated her alright, no this is not really that bad is it.

I dream of a world where the harms of prostitution are embedded in TV dramas, on films, in pop songs. Let popular culture know the industrial raping, know the continual battering. Let’s have songs, TV dramas and books speaking the lives of the too many murdered prostituted women and girls.

I dream of a world where every city, every village, every truck stop, every hotel has a memorial to the missing and dead prostituted women and girls that were not even allowed to have a name. Let’s build statures to say they mattered so much.

I dream of a world where every women and girl who is brought and sold for men to gain huge profits and or get their orgasm is viewed as a full human being. She is not goods, she is not a cunt, she is not an anus, she is not an open mouth, she is not living porn, she not hands to rub and fuck with – she is not goods to be transported and manipulated.

I dream of a world where no woman or girl is trafficked just for men’s endless fucking. Not moved from country to country, not moved from city to city, not moved from one aspect of the sex trade to another. She is a full human being, she has the human right to never be trafficked ever.

I dream of a world where prostituted women are heard. Heard as they speak in a clear of how planned male violence is. Heard as they say of the inner strength and power that made them survived a world of hate, extreme violence, endless sexual torturing, being nothing but roles and degradation. Hear and learn.

All this I dream – and so much more.

Make it real – and make the lives of all prostituted women and girls count.

Being in a Family

Posted on by rmott62

This weekend I spent with my Dad’s family and his closest friends.

I had a family there, I had a solid centre to my being.

I found my strength that kept me going in some of hell of my past.

I belong inside a family that I can be proud to be a member of. This is no small thing after years of not knowing I could belong.

It is no small thing, no – it is massive, by christ it saved my life and my mentality.

I thank god over and over again that I had the privilege to be inside my father’s family.

I was at Dad and my stepmum’s memorial service down in North Cornwall.

The atmosphere was relaxed but organised.

There was crying, laughter, silence, partying, people from 2 months old to late 80’s.

We spent loads of time on the beaches, had a very moving service in St Merryn churchyard, went to a pub lunch, had an evening of memories in the church hall.

It was wonderful.

My family drink, talk, give each other space, go for drives, read, gossip, eat, laugh, smoke, bird-watch, go for walk, play ultimate Frisbee, built sand castles, eats sandy sandwiches, cry, look at photos, surf, climb cliffs, have Cornish ice-creams – my family just be with each other.

That gives an inner peace that can carried into the power of this blog.

I am not isolated.

Grief

Posted on by rmott62

This weekend I am going to the double memorial service for Dad and stepmum.

Although Dad died in January 2009, and my stepmum in June 2009, grief is finally hitting me hard.

I feel that my trauma about surviving prostitution has blocked my natural grief. There is too many body memories getting in the way.

Yesterday, the dam broke. I was crying in the street.

I have had sickness for ages now, a stomach ache that won’t go away, pain in my cunt and anus, bad bleeding from my anus, sickness blocking my chest and throat.

As I finally cried for Dad and Judy, some of that pain shifted.

It has not gone – as I write this I am sick, my cunt and anus is still screaming, I cannot breathe deep.

But my mind is focusing on Dad and Judy.

I am missing the small things that give.

I am missing seeing views of countryside and cities with them.

I am missing my Dad’s scrambled eggs, his fish soup and corn-beef hash.

I am missing breakfast with grabbing parts of the paper, speaking in mumbles of love.

I am missing watching “Match of the Day” cuddled into my Dad.

I am missing being annoyed at them talking over the TV.

This is grief, missing the small things that made so much closeness.

I know that somehow, somewhere that my Dad is very proud of my work now.

He is deep in my heart.

But I miss him.

A Very Painful, But Constuctive Weekend

Posted on by rmott62

This post is written from the place of utter agony of body memories and trauma.

I will attempt to write of my weekend speaking twice at the anarchist-feminist weekend, and also supporting the showing of My Dangerous Loverboy at a film festival.

I must put my trauma in a context.

On Wednesday, I will going away for a week to go the double memorial service for my Dad and stepmum. This is terrifying, but I also long to be with the good part of my family.

I need to be where we can grieve and get life back in our bodies.

At the moment, I am blocked by the pain, grief and terror of knowing prostitution and all it brutality.

I want to grieve my Dad and stepmum as individuals, without all the other shit getting in the way.

For those of still stick to that prostitution is harm-free, then be in my body now, knowing this pain, grief and terror was long ago, and I live with this hell now.

Imagine being scared to grieve people you loved deeply, coz it brings back anal bleeding, make you sick just by breathing, keeps you shaking with terror.

All the poison that johns put into you comes back.

The first talk I give at the a-f weekend, was round choice being connected to prostitution. I will say, my trauma was terrible when I spoke, so for me it was very negative – though I was told I was very good, that I change many minds.

But some words were very hurtful, well damaging.

One of the first question, was on how all work was slavery, prostitution may on the worse end.

For me prostitution is not “work”, it is more akin to slavery.

But when I hear it is as bad as working in Asda, I too hurt and angry to speak.

Sure, Asda is very boring, long hours and bad pay. Sure, many working in Asda have little chance of getting another job.

But, do those employ in Asda get raped on and industrial scale, are they expected to be murdered, do they take STDs and battering as the risk of their job.

Do those employ in Asda leave and live with trauma as a shadow.

Then the detached and nice academic question – is there an unbiased place to find out about prostitution.

Do anarchists think you can be unbiased about racism, factory farming, the treatment of asylum seekers, capitalism. Hell no.

But, I always forget prostitution is just some kind tidy academic debate, which if it made clean and tidy, and the choice of the women – we can relax and go back to more important issues.

Exited prostituted are untidy for they spill out pain, can’t help saying it not sex but torture, and can so full of directed rage.

I spoke from that place – and I know it help some women there find a voice for their silence round prostitution.

On Saturday evening, I went to the showing of “My Dangerous Loverboy”, a wonderful short film on internal sex trafficking.

It was good to back with people who could handle that prostitution is highly damaging.

Also, we saw “Whip It”, nice escapism film, just what I needed. And watching women doing contact sport is just fun.

But, because there was an accident on the train line, my journey home of an hour, took four.

And I got back to facebook, being told off for being melodramatic for stating that much of prostitution was paying for rape. And that I may of not had a good time, but I was hounding those who had chosen prostitution.

So, my mood was great.

On Sunday afternoon, I spoke at the a-f weekend about the emotional impact of internal sex trafficking.

I spoke at the end so I had little time, which meant I let loose, for my trauma wanted the truth spoken.

I spoke from the deeply personal to show the brutal manipulation and torture that the sex trade uses to get young girls trapped.

I spoke of gang rape, how forced love entices, of being made into a porn-toy, of having no concept there they worthy of being help, of living as the living dead.

I said that any girl who has no real love in her life can be brainwashed by the sex trade, no matter her class, culture or background.

I spoke with clearness from a lifetime of pain, grief and rage.

My voice give another woman the courage to speak of a trafficked woman she had known, who could live with her pain, and committed suicide, or in reality was murdered by the sex trade.

After, I felt I had help anarchist women feel that could express louder their concerns about the sex trade – see it as a human rights issues.

Many spoke how I give them hope to be more courageous and not believe the libertarian crap.

But I am left in agony and sickness.

In Memory of Andrea Dworkin

Posted on by rmott62

This is some extract from a piece by Andrea Dworkin, written 1981.

Things haven’t changed that much.

WHY PORNOGRAPHY MATTERS TO FEMINISTS

Pornography is an essential issue because pornography says that women want to be hurt, forced, and abused; pornography says women want to be raped, battered, kidnapped, maimed; pornography says want to be humiliated, shamed, defamed; pornography says that women say No but mean Yes – Yes to violence, Yes to pain.

Also: pornography says that women are things; pornography says that being used as things fulfills the erotic nature of women; pornography says that women are the things men use.

Also: in pornography women are used as things; in pornography force is used against women; in pornography women are used.

Also: pornography says that women are sluts, cunts; pornography says that pornographers define women; pornography says that women are what men want women to be.

Also: pornography shows women as body parts, as genitals, as vaginal slits, as nipples, as buttocks, as lips, as open wounds, as pieces.

Also: pornography uses real women.

Also: pornography is an industry that buys and sells women.

Also: pornography sets the standard for female sexuality, for female sexual values, for girls growing up, for boys growing up, and increasing for advertising, films, video, visual arts, fine art and literature, music with words.

Also: the acceptance of pornography means the decline of feminist ethics and an abandonment of feminist politics; the acceptance of pornography means feminists abandon women.

…

Also: pornography turns women into objects and commodities; pornography perpetuates the object status of women; pornography perpetuates the self-defeating divisions among women by perpetuating the object status of women; pornography perpetuates the low self-esteem of women by perpetuating the object status of women; pornography perpetuates the distrust of women for women by perpetuating the object status of women; pornography perpetuates the demeaning and degrading of female intelligence and creativity by perpetuating the object status of women.

Also: pornography is violence against the women used in pornography and pornography encourages and promotes violence against women as a class; pornography dehumanises the women used in pornography and pornography contributes to and promotes the dehumanisation of all women; pornography exploits the women used in pornography and promotes the sexual and economic exploitation of women as a class.

Also: pornography is made by men who sanction, use, celebrate, and promote violence against women.

Also: pornography exploits children of both sexes, especially girls, and encourages violence against children, and does violence to children.

…

Also: pornography numbs the conscience, makes one increasingly callous to cruelty, to infliction of pain, to violence against persons, to humiliation or degradation of persons, to the abuse of women and children.

Also: pornography gives us no future; pornography robs us of hope as well as dignity; pornography further lessens our human value in the society at large and our human potential in fact; pornography forbids sexual self-determination to women and to children; pornography uses us up and throws us away; pornography annihilates our chance for freedom.