Dedicated to all my exited Sisters known or unknown.
This is post is a deeply personal post, but by reaching deep into my personal I hope to make connections with other exited women’s feelings and experiences.
I write out of the deepest grief, a grief that knows no boundaries and is a shadow of my life. It is a grief of knowledge of what to be prostituted really means.
Not what my prostituted soul want to believe that it was, not what many outsiders want prostitution to be, and certainly not the sex trade apologists and profiteers say prostitution is.
Grief is a powerful knife that cut away lies, self-protecting delusions, and all the shite that surrounds the truth of what it was to be prostituted.
That knife cuts through into the heart, deep to the mind – it is so painful, but beyond that it wounds only to save the life of the prostituted.
The pain brings forward tears and a deep sickness of knowing and seeing the closed away truth – the truth that must be known to have a full life.
It is a truth that is unbearable – but the strength and courage of the exited woman will bear, and slowly hold her truth with pride.
It is a seeing and a knowing that prostitution is slavery – it is not choice, it is not work, it is not sex, it is not leisure, it is not entertainment – seeing and knowing it is slavery is a deep soulful grief.
It is slavery for the prostituted have no access to the language of no.
It is slavery for the prostituted are traded between country to country, countryside to city and vice versa, street prostitution to brothel, brothel to hard-core porn. The prostituted are traded as goods with no human rights.
It is slavery for the prostituted have their names stolen, are often known only as girls or given names that keep them as a sex-object.
To be a slave is to lose access to grief – for grief is a luxury when no-one views as fully human, when your role is to be damaged and humiliated without any help or even care from others.
Grief is a sign of being free and in a place of security – grief only comes when life has some stability.
I know when I was embedded I had no access to grief or even an understanding of what grief.
To survive, I saw grief as weakness. I saw all emotions with detachment and contempt – I could feel or I would collapse with my own reality.
It is bloody hard to not be detached when your reality is that you living inside torture.
Prostitution is torture.
Prostitution is mental torture. Prostitution is physical torture. Prostitution is sexual torture.
It is mental torture as profiteers and punters called and named the prostituted every degrading words used to grind women into the dirt; it is mental torture as the prostitute is in pain, is in fear that she will die or be damaged beyond hope, all she hears is laughter or how she must be loving it; it is mental that prostitutes must smile, must fake orgasms, must make him a sex-god in order to have some degree of safety.
It is physical torture to move round to be his porn-toy; it is physical torture when all punters and profiteers have full rights to bash up a prostitute with no consequences or access to justice; it is physical torture to be trapped in a flat, trapped in some isolated street, trapped in a sauna, trapped in a hotel, trapped in a car etc with a punter/punters with full rights to do any violence they want.
It is sexual torture to be made nothing but a living porn-toy for any and all punters to use; it is sexual torture to be made to have many punters in one night, whether as gang-rape, or a line of punters taking turns; it is sexual torture to be nothing but holes and hands and have nothing human left.
How can any exited woman not have oceans of grief after knowing and living that degree of torture – even a short period, even a limited amount of punters using you as a disposable object, even only a few profiteers controlling you – eat away at your soul, and gives exited so many layers of grief.
It is hard uncovering those layers, there is pain and shock at each seeing and knowing. It is common that exited have to say over and over and over their own truths until they can believe it with their mind and their body.
It is normal to hold on to disbelieving our own truths – they are too terrible to want to know, too terrible to believe we could still be alive and sane enough to remember.
Please know it is natural for exited women to deny their own truths, it is natural for exited women to be flippant about very horrific tortures done to them, it is natural for exited women to care for others and dismiss their own pain.
It is natural and it is part of surviving – but if you really care for exited women, it is not ok to play along with her dismissing her own pain and grief.
I know it may wrong to say this – but it is not true that all rapes and male violence is the same.
Many exited women have come from extreme torture, have been made sub-human.
Violence that is done to the prostituted is never personal or even done to a human – it is considered by punters and sex trade profiteers to be using sexual goods, goods that are never individuals just interchangeable sex objects.
Many exited women have lived that I very glad that many women and girls could never imagine.
Many exited women have trauma worse than soldiers that have been in the front-line of hand-to-hand fighting.
We have known what naked male hate of women is, we have known what it is to be used as lab rats to see how much sexual pain and degradation a female can take without dying and can be re-used.
I know that when I was a prostitute – I was never seen as a human, I was used and thrown away, there was no interest in my mental and physical welfare I was a sex machine – and if I was used, there was thousands of other whores to be used, for all whores are the same, all are just fuck-toys.
Exited women know and could educate about the realities of male violence and hate – but our views and experiences are dismissed.
Grief is knowing you could and want to teach from experience and ability to connect – and getting constantly dismissed or finding our words stolen by others.
Exited women can teach so much about male violence – but to hear us would mean seeing that we are fully human.
It is easier to imagine that we were too stupid to understand our own realities, it is easier to keep us in the victim-role, it is so much easier to hold us up as statistics and have no interest in our human voices.
We cannot be teachers, we cannot be leaders of the abolition movement, we cannot be allowed to have a clear voice.
How can male violence ever end if no-one takes on board the realities of exited women?
Until then, there can never be true justice for all women.
So the grief continues.