Divide and Rule

There is a constant undermining of the Abolitionist movement, and sadly it often by groups and individuals who claim to want an end to the sex trade.

Only this must done without rattling too many cages, without appearing too radical or revolutionary.

One way this done is by the old way of divide and rule – in this case saying how we could maybe say there could good and bad forms of prostitution.

In this viewpoint, there is constant search for punters who are not too bad, and always the refrain that it only a small minority of men who consumed the prostituted.

In this viewpoint, indoors prostitution can be made OK if it perceived as small and independent.

In this viewpoint, child prostitution is terrible, but adult prostitution is chosen and therefore good.

In this viewpoint, must horrific trafficking is external, and often it is thought that internal trafficking is a myth.

Hell, this just a few examples of the rubbish spoken and written in order to undermined the courage and determination of the Abolitionist movement.

There is nothing new here, it always the same with radical ideals especially when associated with abolition.

See how it was claimed that house slaves were happy unlike the field slaves.

Divide and rule is always used to distract – with abolition and its followers it is used to distract from seeing the structures that need to be destroyed.

If we are to destroy the sex trade, we must stopped being distracted and having internal fights.

If we look away from the prize, the sex trade can only gain and laugh at us.

I refuse to allow the sex trade to have that power – as exited woman, I refuse to ever be ground into nothingness by their lies and hate.

So, if you claimed to be an ally to exited women and true Abolitionists, then stop preaching the lies that undermined our existence.

Do not look for good punters – they do not exist.

Be clear thinking, and know that any man who makes the choice to buy another human for his sexual greed – can never be framed as a good man.

Do not think he is good because you like him, because you are related to him, because his role in life means it is impossible that he could a sadist.

Do not say it only a few men who are punters, but think harder.

Think that most prostituted women have many punters consuming, and the vast majority of these punters are not regular.

Most prostituted women who be in the sex trade for more than seven years, have had hundreds if not thousands of punters consuming them.

How does it make sense that it is only a few punters, and that the violence is rare?

God, if you really listen to Exited women – you would see, feel and know that is a terrible myth.

Do not look at indoors prostitution, especially independent escorting, independent brothels or SOOBs as the good side of the sex trade.

Stop imaging there is real independence in these small-scale forms of prostitution, or there can ever be a form of prostitution that can made liberating for the prostituted, and free from violence.

Please remember that to buy another human to create her into sexual goods – that is an act of violence in and of itself.

Most prostitution is paid rape, nothing more and nothing less – no matter how it is labelled or where it is placed.

The myth that is SOOBs is that prostitute can have real control and full access to safety.

That is impossible when the whole structure of prostitution is built on Male violence and the degradation of the prostituted.

In that environment, the prostituted have no basic human rights – and cannot turn away a violent punter if he is determined to get his money’s worth.

The prostituted are never in control, but on occasions punters give them that illusion.

I feel fury – so I end for now.

Please comment.

 

Screaming from My Stomach

My past lays deep in my centre, in my stomach.

The stomach is sick with grief and knowing the unspeakable.

I will write to that space, but know words and the order of language can reach the screaming.

So as I play the cheerful women of Motown, I will reach in deep – and with detachment make order from my chaos.

To speak from that scream, from that centre – I must make clear this a surface of what was to be prostituted.

How does language, especially the ordered English words speak to that Hell?

It cannot, but all I have here is words – I have my silent screaming, but somehow I want to testify and make that scream public.

I see this whole blog as a testimony, as the oppressed can lay down their truths in the hope that it will learnt from and be part of the foundations of real change.

I write as a witness.

As a witness, I cannot change my history, I cannot run away from trauma – but I can and will be a part of building bricks of abolishing the sex trade.

To make real change, we must read, hear and truly understand the testimonies of exited prostituted women.

To bring real change, it is vital to be real about what it is to be prostituted, be real about the lack of choice for all the prostituted.

To construct real change, we must reject the propaganda named as the sex work lobby.

So to start that journey – I want to speak to the unspeakable, speak to what it is to be prostituted.

Speak to my scream in my stomach.

First and of deep importance, I write to what to what it is to be the prostituted, this is about some similarities with other women, but also the differences and the depth of trauma in all the prostituted.

Yes, all women can be made vulnerable and run the risk of being recruited into the sex trade.

But it is not all women who become prostituted or trapped in the sex trade.

I write to how the sex trade uses every vulnerability that women live through to its advantage – whether that be childhood abuse, lack self-esteem, domestic violence, poverty, racism etc. – but also speak to the scale of male violence to the prostituted and how that is makes a difference.

I truly believe that all women have some or lots of experience of male violence – be that child abuse, stalking, rape, voyeurism, being objectify and so on – but it not framed as their purpose in life.

To be prostituted, is to made into an object with no access to humanity – whose purpose to to be consumed as sexual goods by and for men.

In that environment – the prostituted woman is unrapable, for she has no rights to safety, dignity or personal autonomy.

To be rape once is terrible – but in the world of prostitution rape is the norm.

Think about how we view male violence and compare how we view prostitution.

For most non-prostituted females being raped more three times in a lifetime is shocking – often there great compassion from the feminist movements for women in that situation.

Compare to reality of prostitution, where rape is by hundreds even thousands of men. The prostituted body is a battleground, but it reframed as nothing coz it just her chosen job.

This is the same with all form of male violence done to the prostituted – there is no outrage, no recording and no space to grieve – for it nothing happening here, for there is no human being violated.

This is made stark by the lack of recording or remembering by all feminist and leftist movements of the disappearances and murders of the prostituted.

There is a slow start to remembering women killed by domestic violence – but it is often framed as recording all women murdered by men.

I know and understand it can only be the recorded deaths – and it is the norm that deaths or disappearances of the prostituted is unrecorded.

But, for the prostituted to be part of the feminist movement could not at the minimum be said that the prostituted are the highest risk of being made to disappear or killed than any other group of women.

To be prostituted, is to have death as your norm.

It is normal for every exited women, to have known that other prostituted females they had loved may of been murdered or just vanished.

It is normal in all forms of prostitution, for punters to say they can kill you coz no-one gives a damn about a dead whore.

It is normal in all forms of prostitution, for punters to play at killing the prostitute – whether by choking with heads or deep-throating, whether by suffocating with pillow, whether just by torture till the body cannot bear any more.

All this is made nothing and reframed as chosen sex work.

I cannot write any more, but please wake up and listen to our testimonies.

It is the minimum you can do.

 

Whore Song

When I prostituted I murdered my love of song.

I refuse to listen to Motown, ignore Tops of the Pops, and was not my generation hiding in bed hearing John Peel.

The only music in prostitution was played to pretend it was some kind of love story.

Music was poison as it hid the pain, the fear and confusion.

Now, as a gift to my prostituted soul, music is every cell of my body.

I started by finding the music of empty years, the late 70’s and 80’s.

I play disco, mainly focus on Chic and Earth, Wind & Fire.

Disco drag me back into life, back to my rebel soul.

I love disco, for my punters and sex trade profiteers hated that it was just joy and freedom.

Disco was never played in sex clubs, never played by my punters – it was played by everyone they hated, so I loved it.

My background noise in my prostituted years was reggae, lover’s rock, soft soul, soft rock, and lift jazz.

Reggae became my rape music – even now with years between I cannot hear lover’s rock or soft non-political reggae.

Instead I turn to ska, just to confuse the punters to start with – then as two-tone educated me to 60’s ska , with a passion.

My love of ska open me up to Northern Soul, to rare and passionate street corner soul.

As I open up to soul, my childhood memories slowly re-enter my body. My happy memories of Motown.

I was opening up to who I was and who I really am.

I reclaim my passion and inquiring mind into American popular music from 1910’s to 1980’s.

I re-discover the Blues, jazz till 1956, gospel, soul, disco.

I re-discover honky-tonk, I found Cajun music, found Bluegrass and New Country.

I listen to pop of 60’s till 80’s with a open mind and heart.

I found Americana, listen to swing, found Duke Ellington and other classic big band.

I watch musicals from 30’s to early 60’s, with awe at Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly, with joy at the 40’s classics.

Music was and is my saviour.

In my heart I hold the words of Cole Porter, the Doors, words of rock ‘n’ roll and street corner soul.

In my heart is the pain of freedom songs, of gospel, of Marvin Gaye crying for a better world, of funk reclaiming justice.

In my heart is the simple joys of 40’s to 60’s girls groups, of comic musicals, of Tom Lehrer and other satire songs.

Music is used and abused by the sex trade.

Used to drown out that is founded on torture and destruction of the prostituted.

Used to pretend there is joy and freedom in the sex trade.

And used to say this is only entertainment, nothing is real.

That is why I learnt to hate music.

So getting back music is liberation.

 

 

 

 

 

Help

I am thinking of creating this blog into a collection to be published.

I need help with this.

I need an editor, I need to find a radical feminist publisher.

I want to create a book that is about themes not chronological.

I feel struck and rather lost, so need help.

Please contact if you can help in any way, and do spread the word.

 

Choked UpI

Recently there been some outrage that men are choking women.

Lets be frank, the outrage is that it is being done women and girls outside the sex trade.

There is no shock or horror when every day and night the prostituted are choked.

Hell, that is just the tip of the iceberg.

The prostituted are anally raped, the prostituted are smothered, the prostituted are waterboarded, the prostituted are gang-raped – and the prostituted are constantly choked.

But that is non-news – that is reframed as part of the job, nothing more nothing less.

But when decent women are choked by men who seemed normal – then we suddenly  care.

I hate all Male violence – but I also hate the hypocrisy of those who say they are against this violence.

For it has become the norm to speak this violence when it done to the non-prostituted females –  while having a deadly silence about the violence in all the sex trade.

This is clear in the lack of recording of deaths of the prostituted – especially when it is murder.

These deaths are made to disappear, these missing women are made of no importance.

Yes, the sex trade is skilled at making the prostituted disappear – but that is partly because they know many view these women and girls are not fully human, so not worth caring about.

All the time we record deaths of women from domestic violence. We give them some dignity and often speak to their lives.

But we allow the sex trade and punters to throw away the prostituted – leaving them nameless, without a life outside the role of the whore, and still condemning them in death.

It is highly likely that more prostituted women and girls are murdered than females in domestic violence.

Where is the outrage? When do you see feminists marching for prostituted women?

If the the murdered prostituted women and girls are remembered, it is too often a footnote to the more important deaths of females.

The prostituted are stripped of their humanity, as they are told not to grieve, not to have fury at wasted lived and public indifference.

One day, all those lost lives will be remembered and somehow the ghosts of the prostituted will force justice for being forgotten.

But back to choking, that is a common thing in most prostitution.

I was choked more times than my mind can hold.

I still, almost 40 to 30 years later, have major issues with my throat. I choke too often, it is my norm.

Choking in prostitution is a game, often bringing the prostitute close to death or knocking her unconscious.

This destroyed parts of her brain, mainly coz of lack of oxygen.

I, for instance, have huge gaps in my memory and still disassociate.

l write this to say there is nothing new about choking women, it is as old as the sex trade.

It will only end when we see the prostituted as fully human, and see violence done to  them as an outrage.

 

Nothing Will Come of Nothing

To be prostituted is to be in void.

It is nothing happening to no-one.

Our bodies are not allowed to exist.

Our pain is silenced.

Our grief is tossed away.

Even our memory of being human is written over.

To be prostituted is to be no-one.

Our voice is taken over by the sex trade.

Our ability to feel is numbed.

Our sense of hearing is only there to obey.

Our skin is so polluted it become an alien.

To be prostituted is to belong nowhere.

No room can fit us.

No room or space is safe enough for us to scream.

Our screams go to the pain of our bodies we ignore.

Pain that is our only home and remainder

This is not right.

To be prostituted is to have no rights.

No right to have an authentic voice.

No right to know safety.

No right to privacy.

No right to life.

We made nothing, nowhere and no humanity.

So called that sex work.

My Body was Never There

I have major issues with knowing that I exist.

Coming to Devon has help me to cry, to feel, to find that I have a body.

But I find to know my body, a body taken piece by piece by punters, and used to the point of nothingness.

What is a body to tortured, raped and mentally abused prostituted woman?

How does that exited woman makes sense of having that body carrying so much pain and grief?

To get to start the deep trauma of the prostituted we seen this is deep state of dissociation, and it not an easy cure.

Remember deep trauma destroys parts of our brains – destroying connections to ordinary emotions, disrupting the ability to remember, harming the routes to empathy.

Trauma may not curable, but most exited women have multiple ways of making smaller and less important in their day to day life.

But without full justice, a sense of complete safety and a route back to humanity, the exited women will always have deep trauma as a shadow.

When we speak to bravery, then we must say all prostituted women are great heroes, whether seeming to on the edge of death, whether appearing to a happy hooker, or whether she has been lucky enough to exit.

All prostituted are Warriors, as they carry wounds and memories of hate and male violence that most women cannot imagine.

These wounds and memories are in the body, screaming, raging and crying to be let out.

No wonder the prostituted are dissociated from know that body belong to them.

Also, our body was never allow to become to us.

Our bodies were sold, were used, were exposed to hate, were seen as meat, was raped beyond thinking, were consumed by endless men.

To survive that, most of the prostituted have think so hard that they have no body.

Maybe if not too traumatised, some may think they are a floating brain.

More likely, to survive the prostitute will become the parts of the body that can sold and used.

To say we become three holes and hands is sick, but in prostitution is sadly true.

See that it is those holes and hands that the gold dust of the endless profits for the sex trade.

Most if not all punters want no human, just parts of her body he can screw, he can manipulate, he can bash around, he can strangle, he push objects up and in.

The vast majority of punters to destroy the bodies of the prostituted- the prostitute will thrown away after consumption.

See with a clear eye that every moment of every the prostituted are made the disappeared – some to suicide, some me to more brutal part of the sex trade, some murdered, some so ill from male violence that they become shadow people.

All exited women carry the hurt and grief of knowing too many of the disappeared, it is in our bodies, for our words are ignored as overkill.

Imagine the sickness, the pain and the terrors that is the body of an exited woman.

Imagine how tired that body is to carry.

Imagine carrying so many rapes that the brain shut down – see it is so many rapes that counting brings despair.

It is not two or three different rapists – for so many exited women were raped by hundreds if not thousand of punters.

Think hard that all punters are paying to rape, so each time a man make the choice to consume a prostitute he is paying to dismiss her access to consent and her right to physical, mental and sexual safety.

That is what prostitution is.

And that is just the tip of the iceberg, for it rare a punter pays to do missionary or so-called vanilla – no punters pays to degrade, pay to be sadistic and pay to do the prostituted what would be wrong to do the good women.

Prostitution is violence – there is no form of prostitution that can be made safe even if wrapped in pink wrapping.

So the body of the prostituted is full of scars, seen and unseen.

The prostituted carried injuring from beatings, injuries as their anus and vagina are rubbed, ripped at and pounded at, head injuries as punters hit and strangle, stomach issues from fear and the poison of male hate.

Exited women carry internal and external injuries that may be there for a lifetime.

But we are warriors for we go forward, we believe life is good, we fight so no woman or girl has to carry these wounds.

That is true bravery.