To Berryblade and Miss Andrist, and other brave angry survivors. Our truths will change the world.
I am often told by women who like to consider themselves my ally, that I must be wrong about prostitution.
I am just bias, just too damaged, just too much memory missing, just only speak of the bad.
I just don’t understand that most prostitutes are happy, it is and was their free choice.
Heck, don’t I realise I can’t see the wood from the trees.
Usually, I hold my tongue, speak nothing coz those women don’t want to hear.
But how can I hold my temper.
I am told I could not have been a real prostitute – for I never needed the money.
I would fit into the neat stereotype in which socialist feminists put a pretty bow round prostitution.
Without women’s poverty, there would no prostitution.
Right, that is why so many middle-class students are manipulated into escorting or working in clubs. That is why there is a huge market for johns to screw posh totty.
Let’s say it is just poverty – not the male demand for a continual flow of any and all women and girls to make into the under-class of the whore.
Sure, some women and girls are driven into the sex trade by poverty, but don’t fool yourself it is the only reason.
I fit into the neat stereotype of being fucked inside my family before I enter prostitution.
But I am so sick of being told it was a simple linear line from my stepdad screwing me to being a fuck-toy in the sex trade.
That angers me for so many reasons.
It makes invisible the millions of prostituted women and girls who were not abused as children, but are living in conditions of torture and hate.
It does not explain the chaos that was my life as a young teenager.
And most importance it allows male violence to appear inevitable – and so no man has responsibility for making the choice to buy and sell me, no man should take responsibility for torture, rape and attempted murder.
No they just become statistics, footnotes, a way of explaining the other.
The men are just allowed to continue, for I like most whores was already damaged goods.
I am told it could not have been all bad.
Would you say that to a political prisoner, to a survivor of political torture. Would you say that to an incest survivor, to a woman of violent rape.
But the prostitute must have been happy, that means all the male violence can brush under the carpet.
In that asking that, there is the constant bringing prostitution down to sex.
You must have cum a lot, did you learn good techniques, did you sometimes fall in love, what did learn about men/women, come tell me about the good bits please.
I won’t say anything to that nonsense.
Just that being a whore is about being raped, be sexually tortured and living a deadness that does not allow in terror and sickness.
Would you dare to name that sex. I double-dare you.
Yes, I did cum more times than I know. I cum from terror, I cum inside a deadness where I didn’t notice my own body, I came when my body could no longer deal the agony it was in.
And I learnt from too young an age to fake cumming, in order to lessen some of the sadistic violence johns put me through.
If you think I got pleasure, or even the ability to be human – you are as sick as the johns who were fucking me.
I did learn the technique of remembering to keep breathing as johns played at murdering me, the technique of boosting their egos as pain and terror was in every cell of my body, the technique of laying dead coz there was nothing left to do.
I was great at those techniques, but that is not what you meant is it.
Did I fall in love – no is the simple answer. Did I fake love, sure if that what the john demanded, I was saving my own skin. I could be their perfect girlfriend – the one they can fuck on demand, the one who think they are the centre of the universe, the one who has no existence outside their man.
If that what you mean by love. Then, I will never fall in love again.
What did I learn about men and women – nothing than most hate the whore. They hate her as they fuck her, they hate her so they place all other women as good, they hate as they make her the controller and refuse to see her pain, grief and confusion.
I learnt to hate must men and women in order to protect myself.
They saw me as scum, as the dirt they would tread into – so I had to not care in order to survive.
I could tell you about the good bits – only I don’t know any.
You can invent the happy hooker, coz that means it will ok to be apathetic about the sex trade.
Imagine all whores are empowered, earning more money than you are, are on upward path – then you can say with a light heart, who am I to judge their lifestyle.
But, that is just crap.
The vast, vast, vast majority of prostituted women and girls are living in conditions of mental, sexual and physical torture.
Know to be a prostitute is to rape to almost dead, but to continually be an open vagina, anus, mouth and hands to be fuck again and again and again.
There is no space, rest, time to remember you are human in those conditions.
Many of you may be fighting against factory farming.
But what about prostituted women and girls inside industrial rape factories named brothels, clubs, outdoors prostitution, massage parlours and whatever label hides the male violence.
It may be cool to boycott all places where there is prostitution, to shunned men who make the choice to buy women and girls just for their egos and dicks.
You would do that for animals – but women and girls are not as cuddly or easy to control.
But then I am an angry whore, so you will dismiss my words and replace them with telling how to see my own reality.