A Letter to All my Readers

Dear Everyone

Thanks for your support and solid belief in me.

I have writing this blog since 2008, been writing and campaigning for that long.

Now, I want to reach deeper and go to the guts and blood of being prostituted.

I struggle with this, and this letter is small cry for support and some spiritual strength from my loyal readers.

I am struggling on many levels.

I am struggling with isolation, feeling all my work is screaming into the wind.

I need the connection of other exited women, I need the connection of my fellow Abolitionists.

Please write to me or speak with me.

I know this blog is powerful and bring about change, it would lovely if you can to write or message me how and why this blog may of impacted on your life.

I have heard often that this blog is used as a teaching prop, it would wonderful if I could make a record of when and why it has been used.

One thing that I always stunned by is where my readers come from, every continent and so many countries, some I had to look up. Please if you want say where from, especially if it a long way from England and Devon.

This is for my ego, and coz this work need to be seen as the power force it has become.

I am struggling financially which is stopping my ability to write.

This blog is unpaid, but you can make donations, especially if you used my words to further your work.

I find it hard that exited women who do all the ground work that fuels the Abolitionist movement are mainly living in poverty.

This needs to change, exited women should pay for their blogs, their speeches, their education of others, their constant building up of real exiting programmes, their networking that feeds your work.

If you used my work or think my work has made become an Abolitionist – think hard about making a donation, especially if you not living on the breadline.

In this struggle, I am still going to write – all I want is the knowledge that it matters.

In Memoria (to Kate RIP)

Every Exited prostituted person I have known or been in contact have known to be still alive is just pure luck.

We have the ghosts of lost, disappeared, murdered, made to kill themselves, unable to go on living of the prostituted we may of known.

Most we push as far back to depths of our subconscious as we can – but always these spirits feed our desire for full abolition.

But we known close friends, relatives or lovers that the sex trade destroyed.

We all have ache of deep grief for them behind our courage, our stubborn will to bring justice for all the prostituted and our no going back to hell attitude.

I write to one woman, who I will call Kate – my true love, my sister in hell, my kick-ass best mate.

She killed herself when in the midst of indoors prostitution, in the midst of drug addiction, in the midst of trying to escape her abusive father.

She killed herself – but it was murder by stealth by the violence of men, the sex trade and living in a culture that ignores that amount of pain.

She and I were 17 when she died – it was about 40 years ago, but she is always in my heart – and will not forgive those who push her to death till there is justice and full abolition.

Her death give me both good and bad ways of being.

Let me speak to her life, to the good she give me.

I meet her as we waited for punters in some pub.

I survived by drinking spirits, imaging that stop pain and memory.

Kate was drinking and high. But there was an immediate attraction, of feeling I though I had lost – a sense of two rebellious spirits meeting.

Kate give me back that desperate wildness of those who do not know if tomorrow will ever come, and if there is to be a tomorrow will just yet another time to block away.

We would laugh darkly at the realities our bodies and minds had to absolved

We spoke about punters alone with contempt and finding our way into fury.

We smashed up a sex shop in a drunken spree, only to chase by its owner with a baseball bat – we laughed like hyenas.

We lived on the edge – it most alive I have ever been.

But our laughter, our force of life, our rebelling did nothing to stop punters raping, torturing and playing with our minds.

We had huge inner strength – but we still had the bruises, the cuts, the terror, and the     emptiness of those abused into a living death.

All we could do was love each other, hold each other as our world folded in on us.

We lost words, we lost any path to life – but we could love and laugh.

Only it was a love in a world determined to kill us.

How can there be a will to live when rape is repeated daily.

How can you want to live when everyone is stating you are not fully human and so can abuse by any means at any time or place.

In that environment, would you not use drugs or be an alcoholic.

We fall into drugs and drink – as our bodies were sold to more and more sadist punters.

Inside drunken or drugged states nothing could matter, we could pretend our pain was not important, we could imagine we were in control and somehow happy.

We were dying, but pretending to happy whores, we defended our choices by saying it was freedom and empowering.

Only look deep into our eyes – see our deadness, see our flashes of deep terror, see our child-like pleas for help and some kind of an escape.

Yes, child-like for Kate and I both entered prostitution via abuse by a father or a stepfather – we always carried that scared and broken child with every time we were brought and sold.

Every a punter made the choice to buy he brought back to that child who could know there was such a thing as NO.

To that place of pain, that place of being frozen, that place of losing hope.

We were outwardly young adults, but every punter made us a terrified child again.

That is rape, that is torture – on an industrial scale.

Going into drink and drugs is one way to keep on going when living in that hell.

It is not a life – not even an existence, only at best survival.

But Kate and I had love, which somehow made us remember our humanity.

Kate took an OD when her father found her, and rape her for the last time.

Her universal had no meaning.

I was away as she died – away with some rich bastard of a punter for a weekend of rape of torture.

I came back, and found Kate dead.

My love, my sense of freedom, my way into laughter, my criminal ally was dead.

I thought our love would save us – but how when our enemies was the sex trade, was drugs dealers, was living in a society that refuse to see we were human, and the endless lines of punters paying to murder our souls.

I could not believe she was dead – so for a few hours of denial I just held and spoke to her.

But then coldness landed in my heart, a coldness that still holds me.

I could never allow myself to love so fully ever again, I could love and have it ripped away by hate and violence.

Kate was my only true love – so I will honour her life.

She was the human person I have ever meet – even as the world claimed her life was nothing.

She is a tiny example of the millions of prostituted women and girls who lost to us.

They were the braver humans that ever lived.

The Rooms

I only did indoors prostitution.

The prostitution that is framed as safe, as a way to fortune, as a place of dignity for us whores.

My skin, my brain and my soul has to survive that life, with all its lies and manipulation.

I was never safe, I never was allowed space to known my own humanity.

It was hell – and indoors prostitution is still hell for millions of prostituted women and girls throughout the world.

My past is gone, but I campaign for all those inside that hell.

I want to focus on my personal memories as they are related to the normal violence of all indoors prostitution.

I write because I want to smash the illusion that any form of prostitution can be made nice.

ROOMS

To do indoors prostitution is to enter a room with a strange man allowed to as sadistic as he can imagined.

It is to be isolated, it is to be unprotected.

To be prostituted is not be viewed as fully human.

It is to have no legitimate voice, or have your voice stolen or silenced.

It is to have no access to safety as your mind, sexual being and body are owned and controlled by sex trade profiteers and punters.

To have no right to express NO as punters demand the right to pour pain and degradation into your every.

You have no right to stop the constant mental abuse and brainwashing that is the norm of all prostitution.

No – once it is behind closed doors – doors in hotels, doors above clubs, doors in flats, even your own door – no prostitute can stop a punters who decide to be violent.

There is no safe form of prostitution, no safe place where prostitution can be made – only the faded hope that this particular punter will choose to be less violent.

LOOK AT MALE VIOLENCE.

See the punter.

Stop being distracted by the sex work lobby saying the problem is stigma, or the individual choices and life stories of the prostituted.

All that is a slight of hand from seeing the root cause of all the problems for the prostituted.

That is the constant demand of punters to degrade and be sadistic to the prostituted.

To struck in the room with a punters is always to know he may kill you, he more than likely will do sexual that destroy you, and he thinks he has nothing to nobody.

That is living death of being prostituted.

If there is going be stigma, place it where belong on all those who choose to buy and sell the prostituted in the full knowledge of this destruction.

END WORDS

I survive indoors – I am of the lucky ones.

Like most exited, I knew too prostituted women and girls who disappeared or were killed.

I knew prostituted and exited women who committed suicide as a result of indoors prostitution.

I heard in other rooms the beatings, the rapes, the mental violence done to my prostituted Sisters.

I had very close friends who enter as adults thinking it was their free choice – only to be raped, beaten and thrown so often they lost their way back to their true selves.

My best friend and love of my life died from an OD coz punters pushed to that edge.

So, if dare say indoors prostitution is safe and dignified – then face those prostituted women.

Say that to all the prostituted women and girls in hotel rooms, rooms in flats, in their own room who are now being rape, bashed up or close to death.

There is no such as safe prostitution.

 

 

 

What a Fool Believes

There are so many myths and lies that the sex work lobby spreads.

These daily are draining all hope of real freedom for the prostituted.

I, as with many exited women, find it hard to comprehend why these poisonous lies are believed.

I will write to a few of these lies and myths, hopefully with compassion and reasoning you may see through them.

To see clearly, it is necessary to know that the prostituted are full humans – that is the start to becoming an Abolitionist.

IT CAN BE SAFE IF LEGAL

This is a very dangerous lie, this lie is killing the prostituted every moment of every day.

To decrimalised or make legal prostitution is give free reign to violent punters, and to allow sex trade profiteers gain from providing more sadistic sexual practices.

Remember the sex trade is all about the money – and has no interest in the sexual, mental and physical welfare of the prostituted.

The prostituted are sexual goods in this environment, with no access to basis human rights such as safety, right to life, privacy, right to full consent and the the right to control their own body.

When we forms societies that legalised the sex trade, we are backing up the punters and sex trade profiteers – and betraying the prostituted to continue their hellish existence.

TELL WHAT SAFE LOOKS LIKE IN THIS LEGALISED WORLD

There can can be no safe place or form of prostitution as long men have the entitlement to buy and sell other humans for sexual greed.

If you want to know the cause and source of all the violence done to the prostituted – then look at the mainly men who demand and supply prostitution.

All the hate, violence and genocide exists because men invented the prostituted class to rape, torture, throw away, say are never fully human and murder with no consequences or sense of guilt.

There is nothing new about this hate and violence.

The minds and bodies of the prostituted has been tortured, manipulated and destroyed since the first man discover he could rape without consequences just by exchanging goods.

I do not know when prostitution was invented, but I know with every cell in my body there is nothing natural about it existing.

I became an Abolitionist because I know as old as prostitution has been – the prostituted has always resisted this hate, degradation and destruction.

Abolition is just the voicing of this resistance that will no longer be buried under the noise of the lies and myths of the sex trade supporters.

END WORDS

It is exhausting being an exited woman.

Anger is a fuel, but also there deep grief and a sense of alienation.

To support exited women, learn to listen and allow us to teach on trauma, on grooming, on how anger should be targeted, on knowing what justice may look like, on seeing with a clear eye men and their violence.

To support exited women is to learn to be humble in the flame of our fury, humble as we speak to truths you have named as unspeakable, humble as we reach back and forward to the centuries of our suffering.

To support exited women is to understand that trauma can lessened but will still be a shadow in our lives, to understand the depth of our grief is not just as an individual but for each and every – past, present and in the future – prostituted who in hell.

To do Abolition as a reality we must place the Exited as leaders – we must dig for their wisdom, hear their anger, fight for their ideas of justice, and be clear that no human can never have the right to buy and sell the prostituted for sexual greed.

 

 

Names Calling

To be prostituted is to name-called.

It just words, words that poisons the will to live.

Now, words of hurt and death are said to be empowering, and somehow feminist

WHORE

See that goddess power, see the joy of being holes for men to consume and trashed.

Call me a whore, you on the Left, you liberal feminists, you queer warriors – I fucking dare you.

You can hide the realities of our tortures, our deaths, our lack of basic human rights and our genocide behind your fantasy of the Whore.

SLUT

Unless you mean I don’t do housework, then don’t call me salut.

Fuck your Slutwalk, fuck your Slut Power.

Stop making the suffering and power of the prostituted invisible.

You say being a Slut or sex worker is empowering, is liberating.

Bullshite.

Your words makes punters disappear, you make punters all good and decent.

The male violence is the fundamental problem not stigma or your name-calling.

CALL PUNTERS NAMES

Let’s be braver, and start name-calling punters.

Say – serial rapists, torturers, scum, murderers, calllous bastards, criminals, genocide makers, and names that every prostituted woman thinks but say in silence.

We need stigma planted on each and every punter.

Stigma every time they pay to abuse another human.

Stigma every time they use the net to buy sex.

Stigma each time they watch porn.

Stigma as they travel to buy sex.

Stigma as they torture the prostituted.

Stigma for every punters as he feels entitled.

Hell, then name-calling is justified.

 

 

Listening is Hard

Listening truly to exited prostituted women is hard.

To not listen gives more peace.

To close your ears is to feel safe – but not listening is a deep betrayal.

Our voices have been ignored for the vast majority of human history.

It may be the oldest silencing that humans have invented.

Yet you listen all that time to others speaking to our lives, to our deaths.

You listen to the lies and propaganda of those who profiteer from our suffering.

You listen to many excuses and lies of those who consume us.

You listen to the media that whitewashes our lives.

You listen to the authorities who gain as we are tortured and thrown away.

You listen to everyone but the prostituted class.

Our voices are dismissed, marginalised and spoken over.

This silencing is making our genocide.

You refuse to hear our screaming from centuries of torture, of being made subhuman and being thrown away.

You dismiss our multiple voices of resistance.

You say it unspeakable what we may suffer – but when we speak out you ignore our words.

Even many of our allies don’t or won’t listen – but speak over, speak for or just ignore us.

Many allies keep us subhuman tokens that are brought out for small moments, then tossed aside.

This is shown in many events.

When we speak at conferences, it is rare we are paid even when fellow speakers are well paid.

When we speak in panels, we are always a token, never more one or two exited women at any event.

Always we surrounded by experts who speak to our lives – ignoring that exited women are the experts and our knowledge is not just personal – it is political, it is radical, it is spiritual and it is made by experts.

If you constantly silence the voices of exited women, there will never be a true abolition of the sex trade, just atalking shop and a tinkering at the edges.

We are the true leaders of the Abolitionist movement.

We know what makes the sex trade so relentless in its destruction of the prostituted – and in its hatred of women.

We can expose the conditions of the sex trade, we have no time or energy for the propaganda of sex work lobby speaking of the Happy Whore myth.

We can connect – connect CSE to the sex trade, connect stripping to prostitution, connect poverty to the manipulation of the sex trade, connect objectify all females to the sex trade propaganda, connect child rape to creating a prostituted class, connect political torturing to the conditions of the prostituted and endless other connections.

We know that prostitution never had a golden age – there was always extreme torturing, there was always mass disappearances of the prostituted, it was always mass rapes – and there can never be a future that can be safe or have dignity for the prostituted.

That is why exited women speak for abolition not reform.

We are radical in that belief – so listen to our voices.

You Are No Hero

Let’s see punters in the clear eye of an eagle.

Punters are no heroes, they are never noble, never unselfish, never able to see beyond their own greed and hate.

To be an Abolitionist, a major step is to see these bastards as they are not as they want to be seen.

First and foremost all punters are sadists and rapists – there is no such thing as the good punter.

But most punters are liars – to others as well as lying to themselves.

One of their major lies is the illusion that they don’t want to harm the prostituted.

This is pure bullshit, for every man who make the choice to consume the prostituted knows deep in his heart, he is making the prostituted into subhuman sexual goods for his porn dreams.

No man accidentally consumes the prostituted, no man accidentally forces his sexual acts into the prostituted, no man accidentally makes the prostituted lose all her human rights and dignity.

To be a punter is a conscious choice.

The choice to make another human into your sexual slave.

The choice to pour any and all porn fantasies into a living person with no consequences.

The choice to torture, rape, murder and throw the prostituted all for your orgasm.

Let’s stop pretending that punters can ever be seen as victims, or sad loners.

All men can make the choice never to be punters, to grow up and view women as equal and worthy of basic human rights.

That would a good start.