This post is an attempt to explore what being inside torture framed as prostitution meant to my body and mind. It will be graphic, seeking language to face some truths.
I want to write as a beginning to fill in some of the terrible void of that time
A void of the mind knowing many truths, but unable to show them to me in fear my body would collapse.
That is a real and solid fear, fear that I see my tortured prostituted self – and the pain, the grief, the shock and the deep anger tears me apart.
I do not speak in metaphors here – my fear is real as I am sick just remembering small glimpses of that reality, if I write it through agony and a grief without boundaries.
I want to write – but I will need my true and loyal more than ever.
To know that you have been tortured is unbearable – to know that the majority was so terrible that it was closed away from conscious thinking is soul-destroying.
To know that that torture was repeated into my body and mind for many years by more punters than my mind allows me to remember is unbearable.
To know my torture was just the norm of all aspects of the sex trade is unbearable.
To know all my tortures, and all the torturing of women and girls inside the sex trade, is made invisible and re-branded as work that is chosen is unbearable.
I need it to be known that all the time, almost everywhere, the prostituted class are being tortured – and it is allowed to continue because it class as entertainment, as a service for men, or as sex work.
Torture of the prostituted is allowed to exist because most societies turn away.
There is the basic torture that is the norm in all aspects of the sex trade – the torture of knowing your body is never your property, your body is made into sexual goods for all men to use.
It is the torture of not being allowed to call the sexual invasion of your body as rape or even abuse.
It is not rape – it is selling goods to a buyer.
It is the torture of knowing you are sub-human every time a man makes the choice to buy your body, to view your rape in porn, to pay for you to strip, or in any way buy you for his orgasm.
Torture is to know you have no right to be human, torture is to know you are interchangeable to rape or make into goods.
The punters that torture the prostituted do so with dead eyes – they have no concept she is human, she is just holes to him.
Torture is to made a slave – and then be made mad by being told you are free.
All I know is none of my body belong to me, none of my body had the basis right to be safe and not in the constant shadow of pain.
There was no part of my body that was not tortured by punters – every part of my body was their playground to see if I was real or not.
How do live with that reality?
I have no answers, only the need to explore.
To explore, I will need solid support.