Yesterday, I was deeply hurt by a woman that I had known for a deal of years.
She was a woman I had felt very open with, then yesterday she made me close down in a huge way.
She said –
“How can you even imagine that you’ll a lesbian, coz weren’t you a prostitute. You’ve slept with tons of men.”
This made disappear into silence. This give me a headache.
I found all I could do was to finish my drink, and get home as quick as possible.
Where do I start with such ignorance. How do I unpack such hurt.
Yes, I have seen and heard all those words before – but always it was distant. Not by someone who was a friend.
Well, begin at the beginning. My prostitution has nothing whatever to do with my sexuality – they are separate.
Prostitution is not about sex, it is about power and control. Prostitution may be made of sexual acts, but it is alien from my body.
When I discover my almost lost sexuality, I want it to be connected to another human.
I can on occasions get some connection with women.
I make no claims to being a lesbian, only that the times I have had sex without going dead inside is with women.
I was hurt by my friend, hurt that she assumes that her words would not hurt me.
That I, the prostitute, did not have delicate feelings.
Yes, I have had tons of men in me.
But that is not all I am.
Saying otherwise is saying that I will always contaminated by their actions.
Damned there many prostituted women all over the world who would make the claim to be lesbians.
Are they all liars or deluded.
Stop the ignorance of placing happens in prostitution into the frame of sexuality.
Recognise that it done with detachment, done as a routine, done with eye on whether there will be violence or not.
To me, sexuality is about connection, finding what my true self is, having respect for my partner and myself, keeping that it is fun, sensing my own freedom.
All that has nothing to do with prostitution.
How the hell do you connect when you are owned and never knowing what violence may come at you.
Finding my true self was no importance when all that matter was survival. I had no self, I was whatever porn fantasy I had to be.
Respect was a concept that thrown away every time a man brought me. Respect is a luxury.
As for fun, fun was knowing I had not died. Fun is knowing that I now can say what those bastards did to me.
Having freedom was best not to imagine, coz that dream can kill you when the sex trade is your world.
So, don’t place prostitution alongside sexuality.
That insult burns at my guts.