Going Home

Next week I am going to a short conference to the town where I was born, the town where I was abused by the my mum and stepdad – and the town where the vast of my violent experiences of prostitution occurred.

I am going back to that town that is full of ghosts and body memories.

I thought if I wrote a post it would make some of those ghosts pipe down.

I am going to a radical feminist day conference in memory of Andrea Dworkin.

Maybe being with women who did not know those ghosts, did not see my past self at its worse places/emotions/times – then maybe with luck and determination, I will get sick when I go home.

I thought if I wrote to those streets, buildings and rooms – maybe then the ghosts will calm down and leave me aloud.

I could speak of nearly being gang-raped in a crowded as tourists and locals walked past doing nothing.

I could speak of many flats in residential area where sadist punters torture, gang-rape and serially raped under-aged prostitutes.

I could speak of Irish pubs where I was paid to be fucked up against a wall or in a toilet.

I could speak to student’s flats where was brought in like smuggled goods, used up, and thrown onto the streets.

I could speak to top rooms of pubs where old punters danced and finger-fucked young prostituted girls.

That I could speak to – only it is a tourist town, a town of the middle-class status, a town where all prostitution is made to disappear.

But when I return, all I see/hear/smell is the shadows of prostitution.

It is on every street, in every college, part of the pub culture, part of being near airbases, part of the silence of small town life.

I see a town, like so many other towns all over the world – where the prostituted are more than made invisible, they are told it cannot happen in this town.

It becomes that prostitution is just a London’s problem, small towns have no real prostitution.

This strangled any voice/s that the prostituted may have.

This denial gives too much power to sex trade profiteers and punters.

It said nothing is happening to nothing – so why make a fuss.

Well, Cambridge – I remember the poison you wanted me to forget, I remember each and every form of torture I was not meant to survive, I remember the hate that allows men to make me into their living porn doll.

So Cambridge, I see your beauty, I am proud of being third generation in your city, I will cheer on your rugby team – but I never forget why so many ghosts haunt me.

I cannot think of an area of Cambridge not poisoned by the violence of prostitution.

I tried to walk away from it, only to bang into yet more men wanting to pay me to hurt me all over again.

I meet men who know all about condoms, and would treat their women with respect – who brought the prostituted for the fun of unsafe sex, to beat and mentally torture the prostitute if she dare show she was still human.

I meet men who know it was rape, but did not care for it was decided it is impossible to rape a whore.

I meet men who loved taking me to the brink of death, only to laugh and say it was only a game.

I meet men who spoke of burying me alive, spoke of chopping me up, spoke with a calm directness of how easy it would to murder a prostitution – coz after all that real humans, so nothing criminal had happened.

These men were African, European, American, Latin American, Arabic – it was a United Nations of sadists.

These men were working-class, middle-class and upper-class.

These men were from their early 20’s to late 80’s.

They were rapists one by one, rapists who thought they were doing non-violent sex, rapists who enjoy torture, rapists who did it in gangs, rapists who watch, rapists who talked.

For every punter is paying to rape without consequences.

Nothing is happening to nothing.

That is what I remember when I think of home – so I learnt too young never to get attached to any place.

So I am going home next week – god-damned I have the spirit of Andrea Dworkin spitting at those ghosts.

Maybe that will help.

Sad and Happy at Same Time

I know many expected me to have returned from Stockholm full of joy and optimism.

I had to stop writing, for I had too many confused emotions. I was on the edge of losing my sense of self.

I stopped writing coz I was scared to express myself. Afraid my expression would be let-down to my readers.

But now, with workmen in and outside my house, with Spotify on loud – I may be able to write to my confusion.

All I know is that the Nordic Approach is a very good beginning – but that is the point it is a beginning, it not the end, it is not the full answer, and it does have some flaws.

But the best thing about the Nordic Approach is that is makes a line in the sand – saying punters should be made accountable for their actions.

This is huge, and I saw in Stockholm how in a short ten years that simple statement is changing attitudes and making real change.

I saw the change to a society that questions why we thought prostitution could be made acceptable.

Of course, there is still prostitution, there is still exploitation – but the Nordic Approach is building a society that is saying punters makes a conscious choice to buy another human for sexual greed/want.

It makes the act of making that choice a criminal act – that is massive, and is the beginning of giving back human rights and dignity to all the prostituted.

The Nordic Approach is not perfect.

It was formed for the interests of all women and men in Sweden – but it was not formed to place the human rights of the prostituted as the priority.

Like too much in the abolitionist movement, the prostituted class were placed as an afterthought – it was more about equality for non-prostituted females and males.

This is shown by the punishment for the punters – which is a flat fine whatever the wages the punters makes.

Only two punters have gone to jail in ten years.

This is crazy, and keeps the prostituted as sub-human – saying it not real crimes done to the prostituted, so a simple fine is ok.

But, most punters are serial criminals, most punters commit severe crimes.

Punters are not just criminals, they are sadists and usually feel no remorse.

Punters are serial rapists, punters use all forms of tortures on a regular basic, punters are murderers, punters are batterers.

We cannot just use fines – we must put these sadists in prison.

We should build a society that see the grievous crimes done to the prostituted class, not a society that turns away saying it no-crime if there is an exchange of money/goods or sex.

We should stop saying there is one law for the non-prostituted and another for the prostituted.

There will never be full justice for all if we abandoned the prostituted class.

This how I returned from Stockholm.

Football, Films, and Music

This is dedicated to my fellow Gooners – Yodet, Denise and Fiona.

This is dedicated to those who have highly eclectic tastes in music – especially Confetta, Kelly and Sarah.

This is dedicated to lovers of classic Hollywood – Nic, Gabrielle and Lise.

I have no idea how I survived prostitution.

I have no idea why I am alive and with a degree of sanity, when so many of the prostituted have been thrown away.

All I know, is that football, films and music give me some order in a world of utter chaos.

All I know, is that there was always some football, films and music I had not seen or heard – so I always had a reason not to die.

I had no interest in politics – why care when politicians did nothing to stop the hell I was living in.

I cut myself off from family or real friends – I could be with people who wanted to be a whole person, and not a role to pleased them.

I would think that I had a past, and could not imagine any kind of a future.

No, to be prostituted is be struck in a terrible present – where hate, pain and confusion seems to have no end.

But somehow I held on tight to football, films and music.

I made myself stay alive by waiting for the footie results, waiting to know what was number one in the music charts, by discovering new old films.

I kept alive by reading of lives of films stars especially from Hollywood’s Golden Age, I collected photos and books of American films from 1920’s-1940’s.

I kept some part of mind still working by watching film noir, Westerns, European films, musicals and always silent movies.

I disappear into the America of those films, allowing my soul some freedom, imaging having the strength of Bette Davis/Lauren Bacall/Marlene Dietrich.

I could for a short forget I was a sex doll – and imagine I would shot down punters like Barbara Stanwyck or Louise Brooks.

I would stay alive enough to follow Arsenal – however dead my body, whatever injuries punters/profiteers had force into me – I always know how my team was doing.

I always allow footballers to be the only men I would admire – though I had no interest in their private lives, my only interest was on the pitch or on TV.

I held Pele, Liam Brady, Pat Jennings – as well as other teams such Ajax, Juventus, Republic of Ireland, Scotland, Argentina and Real Madrid close to my heart.

I used football to know politics, social history, geography, human prejudices.

Football was my beating heart when death was all around me.

To love or have a passion when prostituted is dangerous – it can make you too vulnerable.

Punters hated that I understood and loved football.

It is was much deeper than girls shouldn’t like or know about so-called boy’s games – it was hate that I had a mind of my own and reminded them that I was still clinging on to being a human.

I learnt to kill my passion – but always I found out the football results.

Music was a vital reminder that whatever the sex trade did to me, I would stubbornly cling hold to my humanity.

I was constantly battered, sadistically raped and made close to death – for the simple act of singing along if there was music in the background.

I was not placing the punter as the centre of the universe – I was not playing the good whore.

I would hear music if was playing in any situation.

Music would block out what was my reality, and allow my mind to pretend everything was safe and cosy.

Apart from stadium rock or sopranos in opera – most music was ok with me, it could allow some small escape and I could imagine peace.

But the music of my soul was jazz, Soul, gospel, traditional country, Mozart, Bach, and New York punk.

That music give me strength to imagine that living was worth-while.

That music made want to live to discover more Black American music, to know many genres of Cajun/country music, to know more about classical music – to go into 60’s pop, and the r’n’b and rockabilly of the 50’s.

In other words, music made me want to live for there always more and more music to hear.

Music made me discover that joy was still inside me – that all violence, hate and mental abuse that is prostitution had not destroyed completely.

So football, films and music keep me alive – and now I will keep discovering more about them from a place of calmness, safety and independent.

That is as close to freedom as I can know.

Ain’t no Numbers, Ain’t No Reliable Statistics.

I want to say to truly understand prostitution, please do not be over-reliant on facts and statistics.Know that most so-called facts round prostitution are propaganda from sex trade profiteers and their allies.

Statistics are often owned and controlled by that sex trade lobby.

That is why this blog will rarely speak to such simplistic language.

Another, and very important reason, to not use “facts” is to speak close to the language of extreme and long-term trauma. To the language of fragmented memories, the language where so much violence turns into small moments.

No, to understand prostitution from the centre of its rotten heart, we need to deeper than mere facts and statistics.

We need to know there are numbers and facts that all the exited know, but dare not speak out loud.

Those are the words that the sex trade lobby fear the most – for if even a tiny percentage of exited folks spoke to the scale of male violence that is prostitution – if they were even believed by only a few. That would the seed that would pull all the roots of the sex trade and it non-stop lies.

Say I, as a small example, was to speak out about numbers and facts – those that I scared to say out loud or write in plain speech.

Say I use this post to break a silence of fear of being turned away, fear of not being believed, fear of not remember in any clear way.

I know I was raped – raped so often that it cannot be named as rape, raped until my skin cease to protect me, rape until I thought I was a robot.

But I can never know how many punters rape.

I know when I hear other exited folks say they were by hundreds or thousands of punters, I am deeply saddened but never shocked or even surprised.

All I know is that my experiences of indoors prostitution, is that the vast majority pay to rape, usually I would rather name it as sexual torture.

I know I was gang-raped, I was raped in so-called normal sex, I was anally raped, I was raped to make porn, I was orally raped, I was raped and beaten up,

I know I was raped in flats, I was raped in clubs, I was raped in my own room, I was raped in a subway, I was raped in graveyard, I was raped in punter’s homes, I was raped in public toilets, I was raped behind pubs, I was raped in a haystack.

Those just the sexual acts and places that my mind allows me to remember.

So much is forgotten, or just kept locked away.

I know I raped until I was unconscious, I know I was raped so often in so many repetitive ways that many acts of violent fade into one.

I also know the human mind can only remember so much torture, until it to survive and still healthy must close.

So when I asked how many punters raped me – I have no answer, only the empty scream of the trauma of knowing what it to be raped beyond the language of rape.

This just a short post.

Maybe I Will Wake Up Soon

I was in Stockholm last, being a tourist and meeting abolitionists.

I am still trying to know it was real, that I will not wake and find all countries in the world are doing as little as possible to allow the prostituted to be fully human.

I know I should happy – should understand the emotion of liberation – should not be unable to compute that Sweden and other countries are finally saying men must be made responsible for the destruction of the prostituted class.

I can write to my trip to Stockholm, and say it was surreal to me, and brought out grief from the pit of my stomach, and increased body memories to an almost unbearable level.

I must say it has triggered many suicidal emotions. Feelings that my personal means little or nothing for so other abolitionists are spiritually stronger than I am.

I will never kill myself – but I always have a shadow following me that I of no importance.

My works, my words, my dreams, my struggle to go forward means so little as every moment of the day too many of the prostituted are living with no hope of knowing true humanity.

Sweden should have made me celebrate – but instead made feel small and alone, at how far so much of the world has to go in order to just give the prostituted simple and basic human rights.

As an exited woman, I may have longer inside a country where men are held accountable for the act of buying another human for sexual greed – to understand and fully compute that it is a reality, and I will not wake up sobbing.

To have the chains of centuries of slavery removed, to say that the whole of the prostituted class are not only fully human, but our voices that are honoured and celebrated – that can feel unreachable to most exited folks living in countries that normalised the sex trade.

No, Stockholm made clear to me how as exited prostituted woman, I live with the unacceptable as background noise.

I saw a place where men are learning to treat most women with respect and even some kind of equality.

I saw a place where it was not scary to be out late, or use public transport for many females.

There is no utopia in Sweden, it has many and varies faults – but at least they want to go in the right direction.

I would fault the Swedish approach for it was passed by concentrating on how prostitution all men and women in Sweden, and is not focus on the human rights of the prostituted as a separate and vital issue.

I also have major issues with that the vast majority of men found guilty are just fined, and all punters whatever their income are fined the same amount.

I personally would like serious imprisonment or at the minimum fines that are about 5 times higher than their weekly wage.

After all, most punters are guilty of highly serious crimes – most are serial rapists, most used physical/mental/sexual torture as common practice, many attempt or do actual murder of the prostituted.

To just fine punters, it send out the message that the prostituted are still sub-human, so any violence done to them is of little or no importance.

The prostituted will never receive true justice – till many punters are locked up for serial raping, for GBH, for torture and for the common murders of the prostituted.

There not one law for the non-prostituted, and another for the prostituted class.

For punters, to have terror of real punishment, now that would the beginning of real liberation and hope or all the prostituted.

But now, we are meant happy with crumbs – we are meant accept we must wait for justice, for some unknown reason it assumed to be a step too far to imprisoned punters.

For centuries, it has been ok to imprisoned the prostituted – with no interest in their mental or physical welfare.

In all societies and times where prostitution is made normal – it is normal to put in prison the under-aged prostituted, the prostituted with desperate needs, the prostituted from ethnicities that are highly discriminated against, etc.

This is seen as reasonable – but to even express the dream of fully punishing the sadist punter is made unacceptable even with too many abolitionists.

I, with my experiences of the everyday sadist violence that is prostitution – will never understand that, without it breaking my heart.

I grieve at the scale of violence that was normal just in my one experience of being prostituted.

I grieve that each and every punter that used, consume and trashed me – was told by society he was not a real criminal, that his actions were not crimes when he called it prostitution.

I can list some of the crimes done just to me – knowing my experiences and my body are just a tiny example of what is happening to the prostituted class, over all time and in all place.

Look at this list – and tell what over class of people would these action not be labelled as serious crimes, except the prostituted class.

1. Gang rape was normal. Gang rape was used to control, to punish, to brainwash the prostituted into compliance and silence. Gang rape is used to groomed the prostituted into porn or being used by rich punters at “parties”.

2. Anal rape, normally as extreme as humanly possible, is so normal in prostitution that it is background norm. I never so-called anal sex, all that punters wanted was to anally tortured me, often with extra torture of suffocation, drowning or other holes in my body being penetrated.

3. Being raped, hit or suffocated until almost dead or unconscious – or the life and death with a whore game.

4. Being strangulated as means of control and remainder that you are sub-human.

There are so many more grievous crimes that are made the norm in all forms of prostitution, yet it is still to just fine punters.

Sorry, this is not a celebration of going to Sweden – only grief and body memories are not ready to have any party yet.

Sweden

Today I am going to Stockholm for a week.

I am going to a country where punters are made to think, to worry, to be scared to buy another human for his sexual greed or want.

A country that states that buying and selling another human for that sexual want or greed is not a human right.

A country that sees all the prostituted as full human beings.

A country that does see abolition as a dream, but as a long-term goal.

Today, I go to a country where my prostituted soul can drop her chains.

A Road Not Traveled – a Speech

I am speaking as an exited prostituted woman. I speak out as I was internally trafficked when I was 14.

To explain internal trafficking, I will speak to my personal history – but always with the deep knowledge of the myths and misinformation about what internal trafficking is. Many in the media, in politics, and in the entertainment industry have made a culture that denies that internal trafficking exists.

I was coerce into prostitution as a teenager by a close female friend. To explain how this was able to happen, I will speak to some of my personal history before I was prostituted. I speak of that time, because I was typical of many teenage girls who are recruited to the sex trade – but at the same time I was unique.

Before i speak to my past, I feel it is vital to speak to the stereotyping of the teenage girls and boys who are internally trafficked. If you have a mental picture of who is a prostituted teenager, try to imagine the opposite – and both will be true.

It is not just teenagers from poor background, it can be affluent teenagers. It is not just teenagers from care or abusive families, it can be teenagers from stable loving families. It is not just an urban issue, it can occur in the countryside as well. Do not discount a teenager because they do not it your stereotype.

If a teenager is brave enough to speak to sexual exploitation – believe first, help practically second. And only when the teenager is in a safe place, can you look deeper into the teenager’s experiences, and maybe question it. Personally, I think it is highly unlikely that any teenager would lie about being sexually exploited – and if they do, it is a serious cry for help.

Now back to why I was easy prey for the sex trade. I came from an affluent family living in an affluent town. Only I was being mentally abused by my mother. From aged 6, I was sexually and mentally abused by my stepdad. I was being trained that my only worth was to be sexual goods for men. I was taught that sex was always painful. I lost the will to stay alive by the age of 9. I was ideal material for the sex trade.

Exploiters of teenagers who want to mold them to be prostituted, do not care what class, ethnicity or background that the teenager comes from. All they need is to find some vulnerability to exploit.

This can be a teenager who comes from an abusive background – especially a teenager who has been deprived of real love or has already been sexually abused. Exploiters give out false love, making the teenager feel special. They will tell the teenager that the sex trade will be their new family. If the teenager has already been sexually abused – and have the normal reaction of numbing all pain and blocking out all memories of the violence – than that teenager is a sitting duck to be sexually exploited. For in all prostitution, it is vital to kill all pain, and to forget your reality of hate and violence.

Teenagers can be vulnerable when they decide to rebel. That can be any teenager, including teenagers who come from happy families. It is natural for teenagers to push boundaries in order to test that they are still loved. Teenagers want to be independent, to want to stay out late, or may do dangerous stuff in order to find out who they are. That is normal. It is normal for teenagers to argue and to have some fury with their families, and to refuse to communicate. That is all part of the confusion of being a teenager. Sadly sexual exploiters will take advantage of this desire to rebel. They will feed the teenager with lies – saying that their families no longer care about them, that it is fine to have sex with multiple strangers. Slowly feeding in the lie that it is only those in the sex trade that can be their real family.

These are a few examples of how sexual exploitation of teenagers is made easy. It is everywhere, and has been common practice in the sex trade for many centuries. It is the language that changes around sexual exploitation – the sex trade has always recruited them young and locally, as well as external trafficking. It is the oldest form of slavery.

To end, I will say if we truly want to end teenage sexual exploitation, we need to be more honest about how we speak about it. We need to stop separating sexual exploitation from prostitution – that is to betray the many teenagers who are disappearing into the sex trade. We must look at adult prostitutes, and ask how many had enter through teenage sexual exploitation. In other words, we must not separate sexual exploitation from prostitution as they are interchangeable. I was in prostitution until I was 27 – when I hit 16, I did not learn magically to be able to cope and become empowered. My damaged child and teenager was in me every time a punter brought me. Trauma is life-long. If we are to give real hope to sexually exploited teenagers, we must see this connection.