I have been unable to write for quite some time recently.
Usually when I get low, I can still write. This time, I feel so ill with some bug that started as soon I got depressed, that just breathing is hard. Well I have dosed myself up, so I will try to write.
I begun to crash in London. I was crashing when I should have been so happy.
I am very happy and proud that there has been change in English law about prostitution. I know that my words has some impact on this small revolution.
But my illness comes from the knowledge that this law is leaving many prostituted women behind.
I look at Clause 14, and see my teenage and young adult self would still be in mortal danger. She would still be raped on a regular basis. She would still be move from one form of prostitution to another.
From the outside view, there would be no evidence of exploitation.
None when so much was named as private parties, so much placed inside private spaces such as flats and hotel rooms.
None when it was never named as prostitution. Just having lots of sex with lots of men, many without names or even faces.
None when any violence was named rough sex, a form of discipline, something you know you want really.
None when money was rarely given to me. Money went to others, sometimes I was paid loads and sometimes I got £5, sometimes a bed for the night, sometimes posh meal, sometimes for a pint of lager. I refuse to know my reality.
None when I refuse to think I was exploited, just know I was a slut, that none of this really matter that much coz I would dead soon.
How does Clause 14 have real impact on prostituted women so embedded in the brainwashing of the sex trade.
We must fight that men are arrested for paying for “sexual services”, for there are far too many loopholes with just having proof of exploitation.
In this post, I also need to write of the terrible after-effects of prostitution has had on me. I write to force the fight to criminalise all johns and to bring about the destruction of the profiteers of the sex trade. I feel by showing the rawness of my trauma, I show some of the true damage of prostitution.
I feel that I have poison inside me that whatever I do – whether I prayer, whether I do stuff that gives pleasure and relaxation, however much counselling, stroking the cat, listening to music, walking hard, telling friends of my pain and grief, dancing, films, sports – whatever I do has no impact.
The poison clings hold so tightly, refusing to be detox.
I am sick over and over and over. Sick as I try to sleep, sick as I write, sick when I try to eat, sick just breathing. But the poison clings harder.
I feel so empty inside.
I do not know how to be happy, without thinking I am “happy” to calm other.
I perform happiness, as I perform most of my life.
Prostitution made do roles outside of being prostituted. I am good at the role of the happy friend.
But I am so empty when alone. I have no idea who I am outside of others gaze.
I am convinced that fundamentally, I am nothing.
Then that triggers thoughts of suicide. I have no intention of killing myself. But I somehow find suicide so comforting.
It is like when I plan dying, it the only time I feel I can know myself.
That is a small part of the strength of trauma inside me.
That is why you must fight harder to destroy prostitution.
Do not just fight to make it safer – too many women and girls lives are destroyed as they are left behind in a coffee and condoms culture.
Do not stop at just women being exploited – when we must fight the brainwashing that makes too many prostituted women and girls believe that are not exploited, for it the only role that they know.
Do aim your fury and campaigning at the profiteers of the sex trade. Men and women who may not get their hands dirty, but get huge profits by the destruction of women and girls.
Don’t stop at punishing johns, punish the industry – destroy it at the root.
Do more – coz prostituted women and girls are being destroyed on a mass scale as you read this.
Never give up, coz no more women should live with the trauma that I have.