I don’t cry outwardly, not even when I am on my own.
It makes me ill, but it also keeps me strong. I don’t cry, and see that as good and bad.
I hate to be vulnerable, and tears open me up to danger.
I also know crying may be a release, but I am terrified what would release if I cried for more a minute.
I could cry that my mother silenced all tears by refusing to acknowledge my presence – and closed me out of her life.
I could cry at seeing those inside porn that have dead eyes as tortures are thrown at them.
I could cry as my stepdad raped me until I was nothing but his living sex-doll.
I could cry as I thought being a whore was just the next logical step.
I could cry that as punters did every sadistic porn fantasies on me and I know it was all I was.
I could cry that I did not know rape and battering could happen to – for it only happens to good women and girls.
All that I could cry about – but more I could cry how I don’t cry coz I know others don’t believe that whores have the right to grief.
I could cry that my hell is framed as work, or a role I was born to do.
I could cry that it cannot be rape or sexual torture, for hadn’t it been freely chosen, is it not just a business exchange.
I could cry that others think I would have been safe with hand-outs of condoms, some alarms in the room, a bodyguard, working with a “caring” manager – when my reality was violence was always behind closed doors, with no one caring, only getting more money the more violent it was.
I could cry that anyone thinks condoms is some answer – when most sexual violence was not penis in vagina, that was easy compared to the many ways that porn teaches punters to use the prostitute.
I could cry that anyone thinks prostitution will ever be made safe by putting it indoors – when everyone know most male violence to women is indoors and done when women are isolated.
I could cry that so many “spokeswomen” for sex workers are pimps or women who would ever do porn or prostitution, but think they stand for all of the prostituted.
I could cry when hearing till my ears bleed that porn is just fantasy, it only done to plastic women – so no harm then.
And I could cry that every moment of every that a prostituted woman or girl is being tortured, raped, beaten and made to disappear.
If I cry all that, I am scared I would die.
So I turn my hidden tears into fighting to end the sex trade.