I have been, well I am in a very bad state.
I want and need to find peace – only it is damned hard with body memories.
I want and need to know my past with a clarity – only so much is gaps and silences for me.
I cannot find that solid centre that can say – you are ok, it was never your fault, it will get better.
I am losing my sense of who the hell I am, and what I could become.
I put on Mozart, in the hope and desperation that his beauty will give me back my self to me.
Give me back my power.
I need friends at the moment.
Now, that is never a thing I say lightly.
Having survived child abuse and prostitution, I always feel and think I have done it on my own.
I do not ask for help – for I always assumed no one would give a damn.
Prostitution teaches you to believe you cannot worthy of help, or even support.
You are dirt, you have done unspeakable acts that would disgust others, you have known real hate and contempt that should stay hidden, you never resisted so let your sisters down, you must have enjoy it really coz otherwise it would impossible to comprehend.
So I, like many exited women, have learnt to tailor how I speak or write about my reality.
I want and need to stop censoring.
I just don’t how – I don’t want to lose the friends I have finally found.
It is not about being graphic about the events – I have done that enough.
Being graphic in that way is yet another way to hide my emotions.
It is my emotions I need and want to express.
I just don’t know how.
How do you express the horror of being a prostitute – without going back into deep shock, without wanting to close down, without a sickness that brings the want to self-harm.
How do you express the confusion of having so gaps and silences in your memory. How can express anger at the johns and managers, when you cannot remember their faces, how many there was, when it was, where it happen.
When all you know was lumping together of rapes, lumping together of sexual tortures, lumping together of being moved to different places, lumping together of even what age you were.
There is a rage, but it cannot find words or meaning for what always seems to be a middle, no beginning or end.
Friends need to help me frame some meaning to all that.
I cannot do that alone.
And friends can help make some purpose to the hell that I had to live through – by fighting for real justice for all women and girls in the sex trade.
You can never repair or even give me back my stolen past – but to know my speaking out is not wasted is vital to me.
Justice is always speaking of the trade sex as an industry that tortures, that brainwashes, and throws away women and girls.
Always frame it as a human right issue – never as work, never as leisure, and shut up about choice.
Justice is allowing the words and forming language of exited women to lead how you frame your discussions and campaigns against the sex trade.
We have ways of seeing and knowing that can help you understand male violence, understand what is to survive torture and keep part of yourself, understand that there may be no happy ending of leaving the past completely.
But we are strong, especially as we shadowed by grief, terror and confusion.
Justice is to fight for a world where no woman or girl is brought and sold for the ridiculous reason of fulfilling a man’s porn dream.
Named that as slavery – stop soft-pedaling on language.
Justice is allowing exited women to say in their words what was done to them.
Do not frame it in the language of rape – not when they have been brainwashed to believe it was just sex, was their job nothing more nothing less.
The language of rape has little or no meaning to many who have survived the sex trade.
Not when they have forced to believe rape only happens to good women and girls – not to whores.
Let exited women discover their own language.
Hear words like routine, all that I was.
Hear words like torture, unspeakable, I cannot remember any more.
There so few words for the daily grinding down of living inside the sex trade – hear it normal for them.
Now, hearing it could be called rape would send many exited women in constant shock.
Justice is allowing exited women not to be strong, not to care, to have interests you don’t like, to be chaotic.
Justice is allowing exited women just to be full humans.
That is real justice.