Monthly Archives: January 2014

When

Posted on by rmott62

Ok, I am listening to late 50’s and early 60’s music – and the song “When” by Kalin Brothers is on, but when is my constant question.

As I let in cheerful music, I am in deep pain and needing friends so much.

When does trauma become a place that does not drain you to almost death?

That is question that is not meant to be written or said out loud.

I see no end to trauma for the individual exited woman or the prostituted, without full justice, without true freedom – all else is tinkering at the edges or false hope.

When will it been seen that just paying another human to be consumed as a sexual goods is an act of violence in and of itself?

There can be no middle ground for the prostituted – either it is known that there no safe place or safe aspect of prostitution whilst men have the entitlement to buy sexual good, or we may as well just be honest and say we don’t care what happens to the prostituted class for they are not human enough to have basic rights.

When will it be considered that the prostituted are human enough to gain the simple rights to freedom of movement, right to safety, right to not be killed, and right to dignity?

It that so much to demand – or must we invent a world where the prostituted are thrown away just so men have access to sex any time and any place?

Is that the world we are proud to invent?

My trauma is so awful today, I am not making the sense I want to make – it is more like a howling of knowing that for centuries this trashing of the prostituted are destroyed our access to hope.

No cheerful rock ‘n’ roll can erase that terrible truth.

I am very proud to be part of Survivors United, an international group of those who exited the sex trade, mainly prostitution – and feel some grains of hope and freedom through that connection and support.

It is a time where the multiple voices of those who have exited the sex trade are refusing to be trashed and silenced.

It is a time that our multiple and highly varied voices are showing we are not and never were sub-human – rather through our multiple experiences and speaking out we shown how deep our humanity.

When will it seen that we were damaged and made to act dead – but nothing stole our humanity?

When it be seen that the true fury of the pro-sex trade lobby is not that we speak out – no their fury is that we are not dead, not utterly destroyed – for by just being alive we prove we are more human than they could ever imagine.

To understand the sex trade, it must be seen and known that they want each and every prostitute to be destroyed enough that there can never be the spoken or written word from any person exploited by the sex trade.

We are meant to too ill to remember, too damaged to be believed, too brainwashed to speak out – darn it, we should be dead before 27  – we now are the true enemy of the sex trade and all its endless lies, those who did more than just exit but remember enough to be a clear and believable witnesses who will destroy the sex trade.

No wonder the venom, lies and simple hate from the sex trade lobby is focus on those who have exited and now are abolitionists.

We should be feared – for we know the true nature of the beast.

Body Map

Posted on by rmott62

I on occasions map how my past affects my body.

I use my body as a forensic example of how deep prostitution is the cause of trauma inside exited women.

I write to my body for there is nothing unique – all my trauma, all my body memories and all the embedded is part of the norm for all exited women.

The horror of the sex trade is that so many women, girls and some men carry these body memories without their pain being seen.

We have learnt to make our trauma invisible, for we have been hurt, destroyed and push down for centuries – we have learnt to pretend we are fine when every cell in our body is searching for help and to be believed.

I write to show a brief picture of the edges of that trauma – I write as much as I take, I write as much as I think you can contain, I get from a place of chaos in order to make some kind of order.

I write whilst knowing all the time I am just giving you a surface view of what it is to in indoors prostitution.

All I know hell is unreachable – my words will always be inadequate for what my body had to endure, no human language will ever fully describe what my mind wants to close down.

All I and other exited women can do is give some insights into the physical, mental, spiritual impact of being embedded in hell – all we can do is hope our words give enough anger and grief to fight for the human of all the prostituted still in that hell.

That is why I write and re-write to my past, write and re-write against stereotyping, write and re-write to oppose the sex trade lobby – all coz my body memories know the war cannot end until abolition is not just a dream.

I have no choice for my prostituted soul, no choice for the prostituted class in all time and all cultures – but to fight for simple human dignity, human rights and deep sense of pride for all the prostituted.

I have no choice as always I hold that so many of the prostituted could never speak out as they never were alive to stay alive.

Abolition is built on those memories, abolition knows each and every murdered prostituted woman, girl, boy or man – they are the backbone of why we fight so hard.

Now I will speak to my body – speak to say some of the unsayable.

I start at the top.

I even have fear when I remember my hair – even that was made not mine.

I know the common pulling and ripping at my hair as punters put me into my place.

The place of the whore who must do blow-jobs, the place of control if I was not quick enough or in the right position.

My hair got used to sperm being rubbed in it – I learnt not to care, learnt it was easier if I acted like it was fun just a game.

I thought of the money, thought of it will be over some time christ knows when – but nothing lasts forever except death.

I cut my hair so short – but it did not. give me back dignity, did not stopped punters forced my head down on them.

I could control anything except that I could think beyond what was happening to my body.

Yes, I somehow stay hold of my mind – keep hold of some tiny sense that if I held back thoughts or keep some small pieces of imagination I may keep some part of being a human.

I keep reading novels, I keep going to the cinema, I keep looking for birds and trees, I keep looking for football results, I keep dreaming of getting to America.

All this give some idea that I was not nothing – that I was more than a fuck-machine.

I had kept all my thoughts hidden – any indication that I was an individual with hopes and dreams was smashed into the ground.

My love of the films was used by punters to fuck me or feel me up in a public arena – knowing I would say nothing.

My love of books lead to many being ripped up, or punters getting me “novels” that were porn as payment.

My love of football made punters violent for I knew the offside rule.

My love of nature meant nothing as more and more I stopped seeing the outside.

As for going to America – punters laugh that I could work in Nevada.

My mind learnt to be closed – and I survived by choosing to pretend that did not matter.

My eyes have seen the unseeable – my eyes go blind when remembering beyond being in endless rooms with countless punters.

My eyes have seen and known the dead eyes of hate that most punters have – that hate where all hope is pointless.

It is a hate that is cold, a hate of calm control, a hate of utter entitlement – the hate of the punter is a hate that drowns out all life from the prostitute.

It is those eyes that enter my nightmares, those eyes that are in every moment of sickness due to trauma.

It is those eyes that taught me to know there was no escape, those eyes that made know I must do whatever a punter said or to do whatever he wants before he has spoken.

And in the eyes of all punters I saw that I was nothing to them – I was never a human – I was just goods that they would fucked over.

My eyes saw the deep centre of prostitution – and had to go blind to survive.

My mouth was stuffed full of penises – I was told that was whore-sex.

I was told I was good at blow-jobs – like it was like winning an Oscar or something.

I was not – it meant nothing to me.

I was good at not being sick, I was good at learning how to breathe without choking, I was good at not thinking I was drowning.

I was good at smiling through the pain, good at swallowing when I wanted to bite off their penis, good at letting my mind go blank at that penis went too deep for me not to faint.

So I suppose I was a good whore for I could do whore-sex on demand.

I would say my throat will never forget or forgive that deep-throating.

It still has the pain and terror of those penises going so deep my body got heart-attacks or just fainted, I can be sick enough to get rid of those memories.

It affects my eating, my swallowing, my deep breathing and my sleep – so how can I ever not want all those punters punish.

I had to use my throat but it carries all that hate and degradation – it wants to cry, but always just gets blocked.

My arms and hands were made attached from who I wanted to be.

My hands were used to pleasure men who had nothing but contempt for me, my hands would perform acts that my mind would refuse to know – whilst my arms seemed to comfort who could kill me at any time.

My chest is exploding with carrying the grief of who I had to be to survive being inside the sex trade.

If I had a heart I had to force it into deep freeze, there was no place in the sex trade for emotions or sentiment.

I held inside my chest all that could be shown – all the sense that I was worth than this living death, all those dreams of a real life or freedom, and feelings that it was painful or just so sad.

I held all this hidden, and pretended nothing mattered.

My stomach now allows to sick up all the pain, the grief, the confusion, and the lack of hope that was my existence then.

My stomach is dragging me back into life by allowing the truths to be known and felt.

My vagina and anus know the unknowable – they know that the human will to live is so darned strong that unnameable tortures can repeated in the prostitute’s body and somehow she lives – but it also know and grieves so many die, or the damage remains till death arrives.

My anus may never fully forget the tortures it had to live – I still get afraid on the toilet, though I do not faint any more.

Anal rapes remain in you however good life treat after – especially when it was done on a regular basis and done to maximum pain.

My legs and feet ache to run away, but are learning life is safe now so have calmed a little.

But I always need to know I can run if needed, I cannot let myself too attach to places or most people – I still need to be alert, and not show my vulnerability too much.

That is my body map for now.

 

Deep Screaming

Posted on by rmott62

I have been still inside deep trauma – been in a place where I know, see and feel why I have fought so hard for abolition.

I want to write to the screaming that makes me go forward, write to the grief that shows truth from lies.

I want to write without the simple control of “logical” sense – but write to empty broken spaces that is the trauma of prostituted class.

To write in order, to write with only clean logic is fine – but can never fit the distorted and fragmented memories that is the norm for all who have the sex trade.

It is the control of the sex trade and its allies that demands that exited women remember to their idea of “facts”, that we supply all with clear evidence, witnesses and details of place and.

The sex trade lobby know, for they have created it – that deep trauma destroys memory, and makes facts unreachable.

They know and don’t care – for they use our broken memories and lost time to control us, and to keep us sub-human.

Remember the sex trade is made up mainly of pimps and punters, and with their supporters having pimp-brains – so never think they care about the welfare of exited women.

Know they think we should be dead, too mentally damaged to speak out or so afraid that we cannot speak out.

To the sex trade lobby, there should be such thing as an exited woman, especially an exited woman who the courage and determination to be an abolitionist.

We exist despite their determination to wipe off this earth; we speak out despite their constant threats, ridicule and lies about us; we keep on keeping on even the sex trade lobby say we have no right to be human.

No wonder inside an exited woman is an avalanche of screaming.

We scream for we have known and been inside all forms of sexual, physical and mental torture that males can invent.

We scream as we see and know our tortures are dismissed as the sex trade lobby spread propaganda that we made to tortured, that it cannot classed as real violence but a chosen job.

We scream as we remember and know that each punter that makes the choice to pay to rape.

We scream as we hear the sex trade say it cannot be rape, for money equals full consent – it can only classed as rape in the sex trade if the prostitute is close to death, but even then the sex trade lobby say it just a game or fun.

We scream as we hear the sex trade lobby demand how often were you raped, when were ever tortured, where did this so-called happened – just to trip us up if we cannot remember or get confused.

Inside our screaming all the rapes, all the torturing, all the deaths we have known, all lack of hope is there – but it was repeated so often, that the mind protect all exited women by only showing the few events.

For inside our screaming, we reach the centre of the terrible truths that when torture is repeated till it become your norm, the brain cannot hold each and every event.

To live inside torture is to lose time and space – it not to live, it is to exist.

I know after reading Primo Levi speak of his time inside a concentration camp, he wrote of losing time for every day was the same, and without hope tracking time becomes pointless.

That is how to be inside the sex trade, it just about livable if you lose sense of time, place or that you are human.

That is what the sex trade lobby are so determined to silence – the fact that to be inside the sex trade long-term is such extreme torture that to breathe all the prostituted must give up on hope and learn that they are nothing but goods.

So never believe the sex trade lobby, for they are silencing and making sub-human all the prostituted class.

 

Speaking to the Past

Posted on by rmott62

I am very afraid to know and see my past – but for my future I must do so.

I speak to a past where all male violence that was put inside me was never personal.

This is the root of what it is to be prostituted – nothing is ever personal, for the prostitute is never given the right to be a person.

No all hate and violence done to me was done to consumable goods, never to a human who could hurt, damaged and made terrified.

I look back at my past and how used I got to extreme torture, being on the edge of death and rapes so often it could be inside the  language of rape.

That is the norm for any prostitute – it was not personal.

I lived in a world where prostituted women and girls vanish all the time.

It was never spoken of – to say out-loud made too real that murder was always round the corner.

There was a silence as we learnt to forget their friendships, their ability to see beyond being goods, and our briefs connections to hope or glimpses of some other life.

We could think of the disappeared – could let our minds imagine that if they were living it was more than likely in some worse corner of hell.

No, we made ourselves think those women and girls had never existed – coz we could bear the though that we would be next.

I want all readers of this blog to understand that to be inside the sex trade is to know death is always round the corner – I never afraid of death, just cold with terror of how punters or sex trade profiteers may kill me.

To be prostituted is to somehow to learn to switch off how many ways and how often can torture just one body – only to spread that tortures over as many of the prostituted as possible, and on the individual prostitute to make the torture lasts as long as possible.

To be prostituted is to know punters or consumers of porn, do not see a human but goods to perform on or to any sexual violence they can imagine.

It is never personal – just consuming goods.

To be prostituted is to know you just a lab rat, as punters, consumers and profiteers use your body and mind to see how pain, terror and torture a body can take without dying.

Though it is no matter when and if the prostituted die for she will replace by identical goods.

It is never personal – just business.

This is the hell that is the sex trade – please know those who gain from or consume the sex trade will never view the prostituted as human – only as goods that must be controlled.

Therefore there is little or no point for abolitionists to waste energy on trying to understand or negotiate with the sex trade lobby.

They have the minds and hearts of the slave masters – saying that the prostituted are goods to be consumed, move around for more profit or variety for the consumers.

I advise cutting off communication with the sex trade lobby, for they will never change their hateful views and will never let the prostituted class be fully human.

Instead focus on the exited women and allies who stand beside us – see our positivist approach despite our deep knowledge of hell.

Read our words, listen as we speak and learn that becoming an abolitionist is achievable.

It is a long and very hard road – but to bring about true freedom for the prostituted class we must be abolitionists, not just tinker with a few laws.

This is a rambling post – for I full of trauma, so it like getting back onto a bike.

Listen to Survivors

Posted on by rmott62

If you have twitter you may of notice the tag – #listentosurvivors .

This is an amazing tag done mainly by exited women and men to speak out about having leadership in the abolitionist movement and to prevent the UN decriminalising  the sex trade.

I feel it is very brave to speak out on twitter – the land of any woman-hating nutter, the land that encourages advertising the sex trade but shut down abolitionist for being too graphic.

Twitter is a dangerous for any woman who wants serious change, but for exited women it can become a place where pimps and punters hide behind pseudonyms, and enjoy the power of mentally controlling us.

So for exited women and their true allies to create #listentosurvivors is a highly political act of deep courage.

It is a significant symbol of what exited women have been struggling for many centuries and across all cultures – the simple right to have their expertises, knowledge, insight and ability to connect to be not under heard, but form as the leadership in the abolitionist movement.

Why when we ask or even suggest we need this simple right, do so many allies refuse to listen or cut us down for daring to speak?

This is an act of control, an act of silencing the prostituted class – and it an act that place the prostituted class as too sub-human to get basic human rights.

When exited women even mention that they could and would want leadership roles, there becomes numerous ways of silencing us.

There is a basic threat – saying we will or could destroy the abolitionist movement by rocking the boat.

There is the constant patronising attitude wondering why we are not just grateful to be out the sex trade, why do want or need more.

There is the divide and rule approach of saying we can only see from our individual history, so would be strong enough to be leaders.

There is denial as you use and copy our words and ideas with no permission or credit, than act as if you invented those words and concepts.

This is the tip of the iceberg of how exited women are silenced by so-called allies in the abolitionist movement.

It is a constant dripping of poison remaining us that we have no rights to human rights.

The sun shines brightly on allies who do not act that way – allies who listen to survivors of the sex trade and have no fear of giving them leadership roles.

I am delighted to see that many on twitter are understanding why #listentosurvivors is needed, and many are exploring ways to give survivors real respect and dignity.

I feel we are in a time of real change, where the voices of exited women will no longer be silenced or treated as just one-offs.

I feel a groundswell of exited women who cannot be controlled, made into tokens or used as examples any more.

These exited women have deep knowledge that must be mined if we are to ever rid the world of male violence.

But more we must listen to exited women if we want abolition to be permanent.

The silencing comes mainly from fear of hearing the knowledge that all exited women carry.

It is a fear to know and feel the inner depths of being the prostituted class.

This means having the ability to hear how being inside the prostituted class is to be made sub-human, is to be nothing – to know all violence done to the prostituted class is never personal, is just an act of violence done to goods.

This means having the courage to hear that the prostituted class are living with death as their norm – knowing that the average prostituted woman or girl is 12 times more likely to die from violent means than any other group of women or girls, that the average age of death for a prostituted woman is 34 in the West.

But more than just facts and statistics – exited women bring to the abolitionist movement a spiritual edge, ability to connect, sense of long history of oppression, knowledge that all man-made cultures were and are gaining from the sex trade, the ability to see beyond man-made acts inside the rotten soul of the sex trade.

We need leadership roles to say uncomfortable truths, to makes listeners or readers connect to the deadness of being prostituted.

We are speaking out – but all the time there walls stopping us.

I feel 2014 is a start of exited women saying they will pull down those walls – and either help us to pull them down or get out of the way.

Wishin’ and Hopin’

Posted on by rmott62

I do not make New Year’s resolutions – I personally find it rather childish and often self-defeating.

But I do believe in using a marked time to take a breather, and build up strength for the long-term fight for abolition of the sex trade.

I use this small moment in time, to wish and hope for more awareness of how abolition is never made up of easy and short-term solutions.

The prostituted are not made free by you just changing your language.

The prostituted are not made free by a few impassioned articles or blogs.

The prostituted are not made free by having conferences,

Though all of them are a part of the solution, without the leadership and multiple voices of those who have exited the sex trade it will never be the full answer.

I am wishing and hoping that 2014 will be the start of real revolution in the movement to bring about abolition.

The revolution of exited women and men speaking out and having leadership.

We have try asking nicely, only to be ignored, patronised and made to feel we must remain sub-human.

We have try to shout louder and get our multiple voices have long-term impart on your ways to build abolition – only to use as a token voice with no connections, or to use to say sob stories and be the role of the victim.

I feel there is a groundswell of frustration and anger among many exited women and men.

It is not an individual frustration and anger, it not even a frustration and anger from just our culture or our time.

It is the deep frustration and anger of the prostituted class being ignored, spoken over and through, being kept as non-humans for centuries and in all cultures.

The prostituted class have always had the voice of rebellion, of knowing the depths of male hateful violence, of seeing all through a glass.

The prostituted class are dangerous for they carry truths that when open into the light, will rip apart the rules we have become used to.

We must see and know the world as seen by the prostituted class if we truly wish end all male violence to women and children.

Our frustration is from having deep knowledge thrown away.

As long as our allies do not have the courage to place exited women and men in leadership roles, or to fully credit our words and knowledge – our frustration will grow into fury.

Do not treat abolition as a new invention that only your generation or friends can deal with.

Do know that many centuries generations of the prostituted class have wanted abolition, and had their multiple voices silenced or translated into propaganda for the sex trade.

Do know that the voices of the prostituted class are wiped out by each generation of so-called allies, and now it is the time for revolution where we will snatch back not our voices but reclaim the past that was stolen.

Do not write articles or make speeches where you use or steal our concepts and ideas without at the minimum having the respect to give us full credit.

Do have articles or speeches by exited women or men, not as victims or the token prostitute – no let our words speak to the politics of abolition, speak to the strategy of abolition, and speak to the grief and pain of being an abolitionist.

Do not decide you know or understand what it is to be prostituted for you have heard or read enough.

Do know that the beauty of being an abolitionist is there always more voices of the prostituted class, always those inside the sex trade who do not fit easy stereotypes. There is always more to learn from the multiple voices of the prostituted class.

I am in pain with trauma at the moment – but I wish and hope that 2014 is the year that the prostituted class are allowed to have a voice/voices.