To be prostituted is to have no sense of linear time.

Every moment is the present with no past or future.

Every moment is dragged out or just disappears in nothingness.

How can I remember when time is full of gaps.

Into that silence, my blog is attempting to find words that hold that time.

I see, I know the brief facts that I was in and out, out and in prostitution from aged 14 to 27.

I see, I know the brief facts that I did indoors prostitution – I was brought from pub, taken to flats or hotels, made to dance at club.

But this all in small memories, memories in my body forcing back the fear, grief and confusion.

I cannot place an age on these events.

I cannot see individual rooms, pubs or hotels.

I cannot see faces of punters.

All that is lost in time.

To be prostituted, is to know hell, but then each day the evidence is stripped from you.

It see the more you are raped, the more you endured torture, the more you live on the edge of death – the less memory can hold.

So don’t ask an exited woman for evidence.

Don’t ask how many punters?

How often were you raped?

What age were you?

Where did it take place?

Just don’t ask, for that is just another silencing tactic.

Let us speaking our own pace and in our own words.

Allow there to be many gaps and silences – that is normal when the torturing is so commonplace is becomes part of your skin.

How do write when thinking is deaden?

I have away from this blog coz I cannot think, don’t want to feel – coz knowing my prostituted years is to know the inside of torture.

I have been writing to this blog for nine years, and still prostitution is very low on the list of human rights abuses.

Still, the prostituted are made to wait for justice, to be given a loud and uncensored voice, to know the true sense of dignity.

I suppose it has been about 3-4 thousand years of not having these simple rights – so it may appear ok to keep the prostituted on hold.

To not see this human rights emergency, is to give permission the punters and sex trade profiteers to continue the largest and longest genocide on earth.

Yes, I call the torture, serial rapes, mental abuse, suicides, drug addiction, self-harming, murders, and lack of access to being fully human a genocide.

That the reality of what it is to be prostituted now, throughout all known history, in every continent and part of most human cultures.

We have spent many centuries making this genocide invisible.

In the written word, the voices and knowledge of the prostituted is censored, or simply wipe away.

Most written word is the language of the abuser – the voices of punters, the voices of sex trade producers and profiteers, the voices of governments normalising prostitution, the voices of academia justifying men rights to destroy the prostituted.

There is a written silence that the prostituted are raped, are murdered – that it can framed as wrong, let alone evil.

In this silence, the genocide of the prostituted is made nothing.

The modern written word has made an art form of ignoring this genocide.

The language that I have to constantly is the words of labour rights framed by individual free choice.

It is a surreal Alice Through the Looking-Glass language.

For exited women, this language is a rope round our throats.

I am see language speaking to free choice connected to prostitution – the language that poison my heart, and cuts out my tongue.

Where is free choice for the prostituted?

Is it in the moment a woman is threaten with eviction, or has too many unpaid bills – and she think prostitution may be easy money?

Is it as the runaway girl is befriended by an older man and told if she loves him, she must make money by being nice to his male friends?

Is it after being surrounded by ads, photos, articles glamourise indoors prostitution, when a student enters escorting or a sex club?

If there is such a thing as free choice in prostitution is belongs to the punters and sex trade profiteers, not the prostituted.

All men can make the free choice never to buy another human for his sexual greed and wants.

Each man who makes that choice to consume the prostituted should be stigmatised – he should be classed as a violent criminal, known as a rapist/serial rapist, seen as a torturer, and too often is a murderer.

Stigma should never be placed onto the prostituted – always it belongs to anyone who buys, sells and consume the prostituted

Sex trade profiteers, whether male or female, should all be classed as criminals and should if sentenced get minimum of twenty years in prison.

Personally, I would give them all life without parole – only a small piece of justice for creating and profiteering from the genocide of the prostituted.

Yes, I am furious, even on occasions bitter – that the punters and sex trade profiteers are mainly allowed to continue their hate and violence with little or no interference.

Men are made invisible when it comes to prostitution.

But these men who make the choice to consume, buy and sell the prostituted are 100% of the cause of the violence done to the prostituted – they are fully responsible for this genocide.

But most societies make the choice to ignore this male violence, and say it all the fault of endless generations of dirty whores.

I would laugh at this upside-down view, if wasn’t murdering my prostituted Sisters everywhere and always.

Instead I cry tears of blood and sweat, at how I live knowing of a genocide – and scream into my pillow.

Only to be told, don’t worry so much, we get to the prostituted after we dealt with more important issues.

I was a pretend girlfriend, a girlfriend that was paid for.

I did Girlfriend Experience, and everyday trauma reminds me of that time.

In many ways, it was the worse times that I had endured in prostitution.

But now, it is viewed as romantic, as a new thing, as respectful.

All that is bullshit, all that is said to hide the power and control of the punters who pay for Girlfriend Experience.

Hidden is the mental torture, hidden is the physical torture, hidden isthe degradation, and hidden is murdering of the prostitute’s sense of Self.

to write to Girldfriend Experience, I need to add some context.

It is not new, punters have always wanted full control of the mind, body and spirit of the prostituted.

It is just a new label for an old concept – it could known as courtesan, as a geisha, a an long-term escort.

Rich punters have for centuries owned the prostituted for days, for weeks, for months and for years.

In this ownership, punters will delude themselves that is not dirty prostitution – no she is his mistress, his company or his girlfriend who just happens to gets gifts and money, and never turns his want for sex away.

I know my trauma, my pain and my deep grief is not unique, it an ancient from the centuries of rich punters consuming and destroying the prostituted.

To be inside Girlfriend Experience, is to only survive by losing any sense of Self.

To have a Self in that situation, can be too painful, can put you on the edge of madness, and often lead to suicide or self-harm.

To know at the time, that you all your human stripped from you is too much to bear.

To be in a situation of luxury, or a situation where money wipe out all that may be happening – and know it a situation of total torture with no exit.

That is impossible to know, it is too surreal, too cruel, too terrifying for the conscious mind to compute.

So the truth of oppression, truth of pain beyond language, truth of being a slave even with his gifts and his money – those truths are stored in the subconscious only to come back as complex trauma.

I had no power in Girlfriend Experience, I was enslaved but had to imagine I had free choice.

All that time, I had to be alert.

Alert enough to act the perfect girlfriend in public.

A girlfriend who the punter could show off to his family, his friends and his business partners.

I was shown off at parties, in pubs, at family occasions – shown off but always reminded by mental or physical violence that I was nothing but his Whore.

No gifts, no praising and no amount of money could stop the violence or his hate.

Many punters would frame their need to be violent as a punishment for not being his perfect girlfriend.

I was punished for not knowing his family and their background.

I was punish for sleeping when being of sleep for days.

I was punish for laughing.

I was punish for reminding him that I was still human not his sex doll.

So to survive I had to be alert to his moods.

It was exhausting being Girlfriend Experience.

It is still exhausting as it sits in my trauma.