Monthly Archives: August 2012

Staring Into Hell

Posted on by rmott62

I often speak of sexual torture – but rarely do I say what or why it is so bad. This post is written from the place of depression, swallowed rage, of what it was to prostituted and live inside the banal normality of torture.

I write to the place where it was no longer rape, no longer battery, no longer bad language – it was just our routine.

That is when rape, battery and mental abuse is made torture – when it done so often by so many men and ignore by the majority of outsiders that it becomes just the role that the prostituted must perform.

Torture is excused by saying this prostituted class are needed to prevent real sexual violence being done to real women and girls.

Torture is made invisible by saying and believing that the prostituted class enjoy and choose their lifestyle.

Torture is not allowed to happened to the prostituted class – for we must not question the male right to buy and sell the prostituted class for the great male orgasm.

Without access to torture the prostituted class, the whole structure of human society would fall apart – or all men would go insane.

I hope most of my readers do not believe such rubbish – but in this post, I want to confront the normal sexual torturing that nearly all the prostituted just have to live.

Many women say that rape is a fate worse than death – they speak from deep shock and grief, they say as the help their friends – the prostituted do not speak in that language.

Rape was our day-to-day experience, nearly all sex done to us was against our will, when we were not in the mood, when we would have been anywhere but where we were.

Prostitution is giving the men to rape without consequences, for all they are doing is buying sexual goods.

Raping a prostitute means nothing, and is made into a non-crime.

The prostituted do not know rape, only how to survive and to act as if nothing matters.

The prostituted have no shock or horror, only layers of deadness.

How can there be shock when it is your role? How can there be horror when many other men will treat you or much much worse?

Rape can one time, or tens times in one evening – rape can just be penetration by a penis, or multiple penises – rape is normal, so learn not to complain, learn to have no feelings.

There is rarely any rescue to end the rapes of the prostituted – not whilst too much of society sees no harm in it.

But penetration by a penis is so normal is becomes invisible as abuse.

All a prostitute can think and hope is that the punter is using a condom – hope she does not have to have an abortion – and hope beyond hope is just straight-forward rape.

When I was prostituted, men did not believe in condoms for whore sex – and the morning-after pill was taken down like Smarties. Abortion was provided, as long you were back in a few days.

That is torture – to have the women’s body made into a machine, no regard to her mental and physical welfare. Just a sex machine that must not stop for any human reason.

But normal rape was rare – men do not buy prostituted to do what they do at home – punters want and need the prostituted to do everything inside hard-core porn.

They want to rape the prostituted class to the edge of death and then pretend it just a game.

They want a class of women and girls that they can sexually torture and on occasions murder – just coz it a way of keeping all women afraid and unable to see the prostitute as human, in case they see in her eyes the real hate that some men have for women.

I hate to know and say that being raped just by a penis in the vagina was a relief, if that was all a punter wanted. It was almost nothing.

No, the prostituted are drown, are strung from the ceiling, are penetrated in every hole in their body including ones too small, are burnt, are thrown out of moving cars, are sexually tortured for many days and nights.

That is just a tip of the hell we have known.

Look deep into the normal output of hard-core porn and know that every inhumane act you see there is put into the living bodies and minds of the prostituted in every city, every small town, every continent and every culture that considered prostitution as a normal outlet for men.

Torture is having your head push into bath water as you are made to kneel as the punter anally rapes you.

Torture is having a punter in the room for an all-nighter as he rapes every cell of your body, as he rubs his sperm all over you as punishment, as he put a pillow on your head a fist into your vagina and a cock in your mouth.

Torture is having a group of punters standing round watching, each taking turns – till you lose track of time or who is doing what.

Torture is being forced into a wall with legs together and a cock going so hard and fast into your anus that your heart stops.

Torture is being kept as a sex slave in his flat for weeks, and getting raped if you signs of being tired or not enthusiastic.

Torture is being read passages from de Sade, Lolita, and from sex-murders and knowing as the punters fucks you till are alive by the skin of your teeth.

All that was my norm – all that is what I will not censor from this blog, or give the reader trigger warnings.

I want you to know it and not take the easy road of turning away.

See and know the normal torturing of the prostituted – see and know if you want to stop us being so sub-human that these tortures are just considered our role in life.

This is a hard post – but it was much harder to live it.

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Been in a Bad Way

Posted on by rmott62

I have not been able to write – hell thinking has been hard.

My cat died last Friday – she was very ill, but so had live 16 years and had a very easy life.

I thought I could write out of sorrow for her – but it is a grief that is much deeper than the death of a pet.

It a grief that words drown in, it is a grief that fall into silence for it scared to face its own reality.

It is a grief that needs to find words even with baby steps.

I so tired of being empty – but screaming inside with no noise.

Maybe there are no real words for the endless grief of the prostituted – maybe there are so many words we get lost in them.

Only I know most words that should frame our grief are stolen by others who spoke for us for good or ill.

Our words are stolen by academics who make them safe, solid and linear.

These academics stripped away the fucked up messiness of our existences, the inability to know our own lives in linear lines, only having past present and past as a muddy mess.

These academics make it safe and recorded by playing it inside statistics, by comparing with other violence to females, by proving it too extreme or is not as bad as misguided exited women claim.

For these academics it is finish if the book is publish, if the lecture is heard, if the clapping has end. For exited women, that end is just a beginning.

Our words are stolen by those who want to divide good and bad prostitution.

They find in our words the tragedy of the under-aged prostitute, but discard our words if that same prostitute hits 16 or 18.

They see the child, pity her, use her body and her image to cry crocodile tears, as they frame adult women as empowered prostitutes with many free choices.

They throw away the concept of being trafficked always to narrow who a real “victim” prostitute.

It is narrow into that to be trafficked there must be visible physical damage, to be trafficked is only from country to country not domestic.

It become so narrow that it must be women and girls throw into the back of lorry and driven across many countries. They must be constantly physically, mentally and sexually tortured. They must be under violent pimps, mostly part of wider organised crime.

All this happens all the time – and we must fight such stealing of the prostituted human rights at the roots.

But all forms of prostitution have the conditions of trafficking – all prostitution steal the human rights off the prostituted – all prostitution is about men paying or the right to sexually torture someone who has no access to the language of no.

For exited women there is no divisions in prostitution – for all aspects of prostitution are made into hell.

Our words are always stolen and transforms by those who back the sex trade.

They may say our words, but say with the caution that exited women are too mentally damaged to know the reality of their own experiences.

They use that exited women have many gaps and silences in their memories – to say, look see they don’t remember, maybe it was made up, maybe they live in a fantasy, maybe they are just liars.

They use our words to say our experience if true were just extreme, may have been outside “legitimate” prostitution, were nothing like how prostitution is usually run.

They use our to prove we are just men haters, just scared of sex, was unable to cope with being a prostitute out of our own weakness, we were crap at keeping ourselves safe.

Our words are used against us – and it is drowning us in grief.

That is the grief that makes writing impossible.

Your Justifications are Killing Us

Posted on by rmott62

I would consider myself as left-wing – but the Left try to make it impossible to an abolitionist and fit in.

Too much of the Left is made of male-thought, and in this thinking it not surprising that the Left has always justify the sex trade, and ignore the reality of life for the prostituted.

I am tired of everyone letting the left off the hook – I tired of waiting for the Left to get on board with abolition – I tired of men who Leftist making their porn stash and their consumption of the prostituted is somehow better than right-wing men who do exactly the same.

In this post, I will speak of the many leftist cliches that have said to me, or I have read, or had fed to me by the media.

Much of the poison-speech by the Left is the language of pimps and punters – men who are not pimps and punters parrots their words without questioning.

I was consumed by many Leftist punters who justify all their tortures – I had profiteers selling me who imagine they were on the Left, hell they were sexual outlaws, they were empowering women, they were model-day freedom fighters.

I write to the Left, for my heart is exploring with pain and grief – silence round the Left betraying the prostituted class is killing the prostituted every day.

We must look into the language of the Left and say why it controlled by men who want the status quo of the sex trade, we mustn’t turn away because they may be our allies in other areas.

Maybe if i go into some of the common myths that the Left spread.

The major one is that if you unionise the sex trade, then it will be fine and dandy.

I agree with unions for workers – but there we the major flaw – being embedded in the sex trade is not work, the prostituted class are not workers. They are in the conditions of slavery, of having their human rights stripped from them – they are not workers.

To frame it as work, where all that need to be done putting in basic health and safety regulations, all that need to be done is to get a shop steward who go to the sex trade profiteer and speak of working rights for the prostituted.

Think a little, and you will see this is nonsense.

When there are unions for the prostituted – they always are dominated by the profiteers, punters and those who support painting the myth that the sex trade is safe.

Unions that exist do not include the prostitute who is trapped in a brothel, do not include women in the porn that is daily torture, do not include the under-aged prostitute trapped in a room with lines of men consuming her.

No, unions are not for the ordinary and average woman or girl – for those unions have no intention to stop the routine rapes, the routine beating ups, the routine throwing away of the prostituted.

No, the purpose of these unions is to whitewash away all the normal male hate and violence that underpins all aspects of the sex trade.

These so-called unions are all about protecting punter’s “rights” – so rape is made invisible or the fault of the individual prostituted woman or girl, violence is disappeared into the language of S/M and it said she must have consented, and the ordinary murders of the prostituted are not mentioned without saying maybe she was too weak to read the body language of the murderer and run away.

Do not back any sex trade union – they do not give a damn about the prostituted, they care about pimps and punters.

It is a union run and controlled by managers, but more by managers who view the prostituted as goods and never as humans.

Your belief in unions is killing the prostituted every day.

I will speak and remember how Leftist punters spoke to me, how they justified turning me into their fuck-toy, whilst pretending they were better than those nasty right-wing punters.

I was consumed by punters who claimed to be into human rights, punters who were vegan and said they would no living creature, those who deeply cared about politics and freedom for the oppressed.

These punters would sexually, mentally and physically torturing me, and also preach all this shit to me.

I would see punters who had brutalise me and other prostitutes on marches, in meetings or part of liberal religions – fighting with all the might for rights and dignity of all humans.

That when I learnt the lesson I have never lost – these men did not fight for the dignity and rights of the prostituted foe we were not and cannot be classed as humans – we were just goods for them to use to consume and throw away.

We were not given access to human rights, we were not expected to want human dignity, we were never considered worthy of the good fight for freedom.

I am crying too much – so end here.

Please question your Leftist views if they discard the prostituted class.

The Deserved Separate Voices

Posted on by rmott62

The more I grow away from the individual parts of my past – the more I have found I need to fight for and feel the need for separatism for exited women.

I am a feminist – an anarchic or radical feminist – but the more I write and speak out, the more I prefer the label of saying I am radical exited woman first and foremost in all my work.

I state that because I need to criticise all who have stereotypical views of the prostituted, who prevent or restrain our access to speaking in our words.

This means it should be allowed that we should criticise our allies – we do it from love, and the desire to make real change.

A real bugbear is the concept that male violence is a continuum – this is true on a superficial levels, but there is also vast differences between the motivations and methods of all male violence – especially for the prostituted class, especially for the women who are long-term embedded in the sex trade.

My blog is for and speak with the prostituted class – I do not write or speak of all violence done to women and girls – rather I speak to the gaps and silences that makes the majority of violence done to the prostituted class invisible.

The trouble with the concept is that is linear, and works on there is a start and an end to the line.

All too often when speaking of male violence against females – everything is place on that line – domestic violence, rape, rape in war-zones, sexual harassment etc – but women in porn and prostitution are made into an appendix, or an example of the “extreme end”.

This is another way to Other the prostituted class – or to avoid seriously tackling the sex trade for it is considered to big and powerful to deal with.

This is an utter abandonment of the prostituted class in the guise of appearing to care.

Why do even our allies have to Other the prostituted class? Why are we considered too frightening to be allowed to have separate voices?

Do not answer with your normal defensive answers, which are used to closed the demand for separatism.

I did not become a feminist because I thought all women and girls were or are the same – or that they must be forced into a box that makes them all the same.

I see nothing wrong with any oppressed group of women and girls with demanding separatism – I would never intrude where I do not belong, or tell to speak in my language or ways of expressing their realities.

I believe separatism is vital for many and complex reasons for exited women.

For me, separatism does not mean it is a constant – good separatism gives women the strength and language to express their realities and their politics of change to the wider feminism.

A vital reason that exited women deserved and need separatism, is because many of come from an environment where our language and sense of reality was stolen from us.

Separatism is the time and space to make our own languages to express what it is to inside the prostituted class.

We need a language that not about us as individuals – for we were not viewed as individuals – we were goods, we were interchangeable, it was mechanical.

We need to allowed to expressed how we can take many years to feel we are part of the language of rape, and that often we do understand expressions or actions round the language of rape.

We cannot think or act as an individual who was raped – we were too many times to speak of what happened, it becomes a blur where only the unusual or extreme pain is remembered.

We want to say it was never personal, as the rape language often makes out – we were just holes and hands that must be available. If we were not available to be rape – there are many interchangeable prostituted women and girls to be brought and sold.

Rape language is not enough for that reality.

That is why the language of routine torture, the language of destruction of human rights is needed – and the language that goes to another depth.

The language of fiction is nearer to our disjointed memories, the language of horror, the language of fairy tales, the language of ghost stories – they fit better that so-called factual writing.

We often have to reach into a spiritual part of ourselves to find that we never lost being human – we may look to the language of parts of religion, we may speak to aboriginal beliefs systems, we may look deep into our own hearts seeking the parts that no punter or profiteer could reach to destroy.

The language of the spirit is a silent and angry voice, it a voice that see with a clearness that the past cannot wipe away, but it can be used to make real change.

The language of spirit gives us the patience to make our fight for abolition long-term, and gives us rest when it so easy to give up.

We need a separate voices, for the voices of the prostituted are not just from now, or one particular cultures.

We speak always with the voices of the prostituted from many centuries, from every continent, from all cultures that make the sex trade acceptable.

Our voices speak to the rage, pain, search for humanity, desire for freedom – that cuts across all centuries, all countries and all cultures – of the all the prostituted living or dead.

Our voices always hold the prostituted who were murdered and made forgotten – whether we knew them or not, even if it many centuries ago or in a country we have never been to.

For we know that we were made sub-human in life – so each murdered prostituted woman or girl whose death is made into nothing, is a daily remainder that we are always sub-human.

There is a silence around the vast majority of the deaths of women in the sex trade – whether they were murdered, whether they committed suicide, or whether they died for their bodies could  not live with so much torture on such a constant basic.

Prostituted women and girls died too young, too often – without the majority of the world caring or even seeing that they existed enough to die.

We need separatism to find space to deal with the vastness of living with death all around – we need to find our humanity through our vast grief and numbness.

We need to speak to forgiving ourselves for closing down the deaths of prostitutes we knew, forgive ourselves for thinking at least it was not me.

I feel it like being in a concentration camp, where you know at any time you will be murdered. You cannot allowed emotions in or allow yourself to care when the person sleeping above is murdered, just even in hell think I’m alive.

That is how it inside the sex trade – everything something terrible to the prostitute next to you, you cannot help but think it is not me. Only knowing all the time, it could you any time, any place – and no one will care.

Of course, we survived by closing down, by refusing to know our own hells – we survived by refusing to being fully alive.

We need to find our own voices for that reality – voices that can express it to those outside the sex trade, in order to build a road to abolition.

Let us speak from a place of separatism – do not be afraid, just let us speak – and listen with respect.

Memories Don’t Kill – But It Would Nice If They Could

Posted on by rmott62

I have many memories of punters and sex trade profiteers who I wish I could just kill.

I am not a violent person – but coming away from the coldness of the sex trade has fill my mind with too many violent thoughts – or what other may class as fantasies.

I was fed into a machine-world where violence was my norm, where numbing out fear and pain was my norm.

I was fed into that machine-world until I was more than disassociated, more than dead from hope – until I spoke the language of my oppressors and became their living porn-doll.

I was alive – but had no will that was not their property.

I was alive – but pain was foreign to me.

I was alive – but saw and knew it was violence through a haze of not wanting to know.

I was made into an ideal prostitute – and all my stuffing had been stolen from me.

I knew the words and sounds that pleased – I could move in the whore-way that pleases – I could do that to the point of near-death over and over, and learnt to just not care.

Caring that there is pain, caring that is rape plain and simple, caring that all tortures is rehearsed in the bodies of the prostituted, caring that those prostitutes who disappear may be murdered, caring that you lost how to be human – that type of caring does kill prostitutes, so being dead is best.

How do you care that it is rape – when there are rapists queuing up to invade your body and mind?

How can feel enough to care – when it never name as rape, as torture or even as abuse, only re-branded as your choice, as one way you manipulate men, as empowerment?

Where is the time and space to care – when every punters fill your head with lies or threats, when sex trade profiteers empty you till you are nothing but goods to be fucked to worn out?

It is a world where the prostituted must be empty to somehow live – it is not life, it is learning to exist by remembering to keep breathing.

I coped by not seeing my reality.

I would not see the dead eyes of so many of the prostituted who stood right by me.

I would not see the faces of all the punters and profiteers.

I would not see the rooms or streets that I was in.

I coped by not hearing my reality.

I would not hear the rapes and tortures of the prostituted in rooms all around me.

I would not hear the endless mental violence that was my norm

I would not hear that I was prostitute, that I was a whore – I had to believe I just had endless men.

I coped by not tasting my reality.

I would not taste the sperm as choked me to near-death.

I would not taste dry terror in the spaces before punters begun.

I would not taste as fists, penises and objects blocked my ability to breathe.

I coped by not smelling my reality.

I would not smell the blood that coming out of me so often.

I would not smell stale beer, sweat and hate on too many punters.

I would not smell fear as I pissed myself when the violence was too much.

I coped by not feeling my reality.

I would not feel the endless pain in my anus.

I would not feel the fists, the objects, the tongues, the teeth, the penises going into every hole in my body.

I would feel being thrown into walls or push head-first into a toilet.

I had no senses – just survival.

No wonder all that was left was to be and speak the language of the oppressor.

No wonder now, I dream in the day and night of killing each and every punter who torture me, and each and every profiteer who sold me into torture.

My revenge is that I remembered – they can never control that.

Empty Mind

Posted on by rmott62

I think one way I survive my life is by having the ability to think nothing – not having a clear mind, but to empty it of all thoughts, all memories and all feelings.

This is not a good thing, it is learnt behaviour from so far back, I do not want to know when it begun.

It may have begun as I was a baby and I had to stop crying, for all that happened was the door was shut and all lights were turn off.

It may of continue as I fall over – cutting my knee open and making it green with poison from a stone, and I ignored it.

It certainly continue as a young girl when I was shown Hustler, photos from rape/murder scenes – and learnt to look without seeing.

It went on as bedtime stories were passages from Lolita, Marquis de Sade, recordings of the Moors Murders. I learnt to close down nightmares.

It went on and on as my stepdad increased his sexual ownership of my mind and body. He owned all my skin, my cunt, my mouth, my hand and my essence – so all that was left was to empty my mind.

All this was before I was prostituted – all this made me into the robot who had given up on caring, so was perfect to be a whore.

I deeply believe that the prostituted come all backgrounds – but all too often for far too many of the prostituted  there is a common thread – is that they were made emotionally dead even before the sex trade got hold of them.

This is never for simple one or two reasons for this, most women and girls that get trapped inside the sex have multiple reasons to close themselves down.

It is not just simple poverty – for the majority of females in poverty do not become prostituted, unless they live in an environment where the sex trade profiteers are trawling for more goods. This normally is in communities that are neglected or despised by those in authority – communities that are made throwaway.

It is not a simple linear line from child sexual abuse to the sex trade – many girls who were abused do not enter the sex trade – although there are many of the prostituted who were abused as girls. But there many prostitutes and other women inside the sex trade who came from happy homes. Do not make them invisible.

It not a simple connection to being a druggie – most women and girls who do take drugs only do so to deaden reality, many are not addicts for if they are given the chance to exit, they find with real help and support, drugs are not part of them. Drugs are used to control and silenced the prostituted, so it is more common that drugs are given after she is trapped in the sex trade – not that she enter the sex trade to feed a drug habit.

All this is of little of no relevance when you view the sex trade and it’s consumers with a clear eye.

It is of no relevant how or even why the prostitute got to be where she is or was – for that makes out she has some control over what happens, for that comes from the assumption that viewed as an individual not as goods.

If you make the choice to focus on the individual prostitute, you are being played by the sex trade – it is the game of making the profiteers and punters invisible, the game of saying it all the fault of the insatiable whore.

The focus should be firmly on the male demand, the male greed, the male lies that feed that greed, the male profits – heck it men that make there is nothing wrong with the sex trade, or may say it may be bad but better keep it coz other men like it.

I have never met a woman or girl inside or exited the sex trade who had control over whether the punters made the choice to beat her, to rape her, to torture – we all lived with the knowledge that a punter could kill us anytime, and it would be made a non-event.

We lived with the shadows of the prostituted women and girls that never reach the exit – they are always part of our blood.

But the sex trade and it’s allies spent endless hours and money creating the myth, that the prostituted women and girls brings all this violence and hate onto themselves.

It is said – prostitutes just like violent sex, they have different pain thresholds, they just love servicing all male porn fantasies.

It is said – that if say it was rape, we just did not have the right temperament for the sex trade, we were weak, we were too damaged before entering the sex trade, we were deluded.

All this language is reminder that prostitutes are never given the right to be human, they are just goods.

There is no acknowledgement  that is no-one is forcing punters to rape, beat up, torture and murder the prostituted class.

No acknowledgement that the punters usually plan and make a conscious decision to buy or consume the sex trade – in the full knowledge that they have complete power and control, and they can any or consume any violence against the prostituted without consequences.

No man buys a prostitute by accident, and all punters can walk away at any time without raping, torturing, beating or murdering.

So when the punter is violent, when he is making the choice to pay to rape – it is his full responsibility.

Why do want to see the prostitute as enticing the punters? Why do you need the myth of the controlling whore?

Could it be that you cannot bear to see the human in every prostitute?

No wonder I survived by emptying my mind – the pain that so many view the prostituted as sub-humans is unbearable.

Push Deeper

Posted on by rmott62

I have been taking time away from writing for I find it hard to focus, hard not to be too angry, hard not to despair –  had to stay away from myself.

This blog reaches into a part of me that is afraid of being public – the part that is hidden below the surface.

I try to have an image of being strong, able to reach places other view as deep – but always knowing there are so many levels of pain, grief and reaching into my forgotten power that are never shown here.

I do not know if I can find words that fit what is not inside this blog – I only know this post is a start to expressing who I was when I was embedded inside indoors prostitution.

Know the only way I can express parts of that time is to confront the stereotypes of indoors prostitution, and to confront the language surrounding indoors prostitution. In doing that, I may have insight of who I had to be then.

I have dig deeper – I have to dig deeper without running away, I have to dig deeper even as sickness makes my heart cry, I have to dig deeper to drag my past self into life and give her the respect she deserves.

One constant that is said about being prostituted – is how we survived by making ourselves dead.

This is said by me often – so often it has been said without thinking too deep, without listening to my own essence and ignoring the images I have of own Self struck in the middle of yet another room with yet another punter.

I have come to believe I was not dead inside – for if I had the luxury of making myself dead, then the violent, hate and humiliation would have be easier to get over – it would all mean almost nothing, if I had be able to make myself dead.

No, the hell of prostitution is not being able to be dead emotionally, not being able to totally cut from the repetitive violence and degradation – the hell is not being able to make it all not matter.

I think now it is more about making yourself a role to be the whore, the escort, the woman who does not know pain, the woman who ignore fear, being a slave who always smiles.

Yes, I could cut myself off, but there was always an impact that was slowly poisoning me.

I could make it all untrue, by imagining it was a film, making it that I just loved sadistic sex – I could do that, but I could not stop the pain coming through, I could not stop the mind saying this should not be happening, this should not be happening, this should not be happening.

At the time, I was cut off – but now, through deep trauma all that refuse to be dead is screaming out.

I was the whore who knew how to smile, I was the whore who knew safety by pleasing sadistic men, I was the whore who was defiant that it my choice and fuck you if you judge me.

I was that happy hooker – and now through trauma I am learning to forgive myself for being a spokeswoman for the sex trade.

It is a very hard journey from then to now – a journey where there is deep fear of saying the ways I survive by pleasing punters and profiteers.

All I know, is that survival for far too many of women and girls inside all aspects of the sex trade is to learn to copy the language and ways of their oppressors, to parrot it is part of staying alive.

It can never save any of the prostituted – for the prostituted have no control over when, how and why punters and profiteers will kill, rape or torture them.

I, like so many of the prostituted, learnt to survive the unsurvivable by acting the role of not caring.

I was became a chameleon who could be whatever the punter demanded – I made myself their sex toy, and in doing that I lost how to remember what being human was.

I was human – but in that room, performing those acts of sexual torture, with endless faceless punters – I had to be nothing but goods, for to remember being human was too unbearable.

I have no choice but to be sub-human – for the whole purpose of the sex trade was to make all the prostituted interchangeable, into goods who have no voice and no rights – to remember being human in that environment can be the route to more violence or death.

As I said this post is just a start, and is very hard to write.

I want some change in language – towards a language that will fit the many gaps and silences that the prostituted live. A language that does not follow a linear line, or seek simple answers to impossible questions.

The language of facts is only the beginning of understanding what it is to be prostituted – it would lovely to fit it into neat boxes that can open and closed at will – but it never can be that easy for exited women.

We cannot speak in the simple journey of one individual – it was never personal or individual why we were brought and sold, we know our experiences are copied over many centuries and in every continent.

It was never personal – never personal – you can never truly understand what it was to be prostituted if you keep it in the language of the individual.

When I write or speak out – I know my words are not just mine.

I have in me the silenced voices of the prostituted from many centuries who’s voices were stolen by punters and profiteers.

I have in me the silenced voices of the women and girls I knew or heard who could not exit the sex trade – whether through giving up any hope to hold on, whether through suicide, or whether they “disappeared” or were murdered.

And I always have in me the silenced voices of the prostituted who are used every day everywhere.

I cannot and will not speak just for my past – I cannot change that – but the risen multiple voices of exited women can make real change for the future.