I have decided to write whatever is on my mind as Hank Williams and the Blues plays in the background.
I feel I been resting, or running away, but always aware that it is just a small break in the longest war to abolish the sex trade.
Today is the 15th anniversary of the tragic death of Emma Humphries, she was a bright light to exited women – and much of my work is deeply inspired by her spirit.
I hold all the lost and destroyed prostituted women and girls deep inside my heart.
They are deep in my mind as each word of this blog is made public.
Their voices were wiped out, few like Emma left some record of their existence – but mostly dead of the prostituted class are vanished from history.
Now, maybe for the first time as a permanent force exited women and some women inside prostitution/porn are speaking to their realities.
There are multiple voices from every continent – voices of escorts from Western cities, voices of Dalit women, voices of women inside Asian brothels, voices of the tortured in legal Australian prostitution, voices of South African street-based prostitutes, voices of under-aged prostitutes from every corner of the world.
There are multiple voices from all classes, backgrounds and ethnicities – there are voices from indigenous women in the America and Australia/New Zealand, there are voices from white middle-class girls who know the reality of internal trafficking, there are the voices of millions of Asian sold and consumed in every continent, there are the voices of African-American girls made invisible on the street or inside flats/hotels.
We are now speaking out – we may not know each other, we may not be able to fully understand the reality of another prostituted woman’s life – but as we speak out, we recognise we are deeply connected.
The differences in our lives, our views and our backgrounds become minor when facing up to the institution that is the sex trade.
In the end, whatever label a prostituted women or girl is given – whether she is called high-class hooker, made low by being on the street, given the label courtesan/geisha/companion, or the label of whore/slut/scum – all the prostituted are made one in the eyes of punters and profiteers.
The bottom line all the endless labeling of the prostituted is only done so men can imagine no harm is being done, or to make the men enjoy having the power to exploit without consequences.
Labels mean nothing when you are goods; labels mean nothing when at any time and any place any punter can destroy the prostitute; labels mean nothing when all the prostituted are made sub-human.
I was inside the labels of what punters imagine is chosen and safe prostitution.
I was inside sex clubs, I was an escort, I was girlfriend material – I was indoors always.
I was inside the labels that sex trade profiteers say to the outside world is a chosen lifestyle.
Boy, I was inside a world that never existed.
The world where no punters would dare harm the prostitute, a world where pimps/businessmen care about the welfare of the prostitute, a world where money flow like wine.
That world was just a sick joke that imprisoned me.
I was never safe or protected – just live with the knowledge that all violence done in indoors prostitution is hushed up and made non-existent.
Yes, on occasions I made a ton of money – but it was poison to me.
I got more money from being tortured for many hours; I got more money for not remembering their faces or words they had said; I got more money for somehow not dying.
So don’t fall for the labels – hear the voices of exited women and know we were all made sub-human.
God, I thought I could write, but my heart is breaking, so I must stop now, please tell me what you think, for I need support or friendship.