As I listen to Madness, I play happy music when I want speak to my silent screaming.
The silent scream of the prostitute who has known torture as a reality – but spend many years attempting to find words, sounds or even gestures that say that experience.
Torture is easy to understand with detachment – easy to placed into safe academic speech or writings – easy to say it was terrible whilst never feeling anything.
Torture can be understood when it is not inside your body and mind – so much easier to understand torture as a political cause that can only affects others.
I can and do campaign for political prisoners being tortured, I can and do see how the vast majority of the prostituted class are tortured – I understand torture, but I cannot stay with myself when my mind knows I was tortured.
I can only hear again and again and again the silent screaming.
I can explain some of the routes and tactics of how and why I was tortured. Maybe by doing that, I can reach into and silenced for a small while the silent screaming.
I cannot end it – that will only comes with true justice and full access to being human for the whole of the prostituted class.
I scream for justice – I scream to know the pain that I had to deadened – I scream as there is an endless wailing grief for the thief of my youth – I scream that the violence done to me is done to millions of prostituted women and girls and made invisible.
I scream that the violence done to the prostituted is so normal, that it seems that no-one can fully imagine a world without prostitution.
How do you explain the torture that is named as prostitution?
Most non-prostituted women or girls reading this have been raped, sexually abused or yelled at in the street.
That violence is your norm – but it is made visible and much of it is made unacceptable.
Imagine being in an environment where rape is so regular it is made your only purpose.
A prostitute lives that role – her place is not to be human, but goods that men can and will fuck in any manner.
That is not rape – that is sexual torture. That is not sexual abuse – that is making the prostitute sub-human.
Know that men that make the choice to buy a prostitute, are paying for the right to rape without consequences.
Punters do not think they are rapists, certainly not sadistic torturers – they just believe they are buying a service.
Now be that prostitute – be her and tell me you would able to keep your emotions, tell me you could keep hold of your own reality.
Plenty of women who have a single rape are in massive shock and terror – they may and can lose sense of time and place, may and can go detached – this can be a natural reaction.
The prostituted are raped into the hundreds or even thousands – they are raped until the cells in their whole body are only living by rejecting reality.
To somehow survive prostitution, it can be very important to build another reality.
For many of the prostituted that fake reality is telling herself she has no pain, telling herself she is too tough to feel terror, telling herself that if a punter is bad it must be a one-off, telling herself she cannot be trapped.
She must say to herself she is happy, she must tell herself she is in control, she must say to herself she can leave at any time.
To survive the constant torture – the prostitute must build an illusion of having power and control.
And if she sensed that is not true, any sense she is just being destroyed and made sub-human – it made into nothing more than a silent scream.
So the prostitute learns to block out the normality of mental, physical and sexual torture.
Only remembering the most painful, the most deeply humiliating, the most unusual, the times she almost touched death.
I was tortured for many years – but it just tiny sketches in my head, more remembered through sickness in my body than in time or place.
I know as my throat tries to block itself or choke on remembered fingers, penises or objects.
I know as my anus is in pain, and the doctor tell over and over and over – it is fine.
I know as my laying on my back in bed can increased the silent screaming.
And know as I know my vagina is in deep grief and shock.
Please speak in the language of torture when speaking for and with the prostituted class.