Grief and Memory

My last post had to cut short coz grief is the thing I to see and hold in my heart.

Grief from knowledge of torture is so near to impossible to hold – I can only stay safe if my amazing supporters prayer, hold me or keep me deep in their thoughts.

This is not my grief, it is the grief of all who managed to exit the sex trade.

It a grief that knows the unbearable, a grief that conflates memory and linear time, a grief of knowing parts of our being was stolen and trashed by the sex trades.

We live with trauma – mostly we live with such extreme trauma it is the heightened levels of long-term torture victims, and higher than most soldiers who been in the front-line.

This trauma comes from the constant and extreme violence that was our norms.

But it also destroys our memory – we lose hours, days, months or years.

This is not just the violence that wipe out memory, but the fact that the violence done to the prostituted is very repetitive.

How can the brain remember each and every rape when for too many of the prostituted it is in the hundreds or thousands?

No, the mind will remember the most brutal or unusual, the mind may hold the “ordinary” rapes and see enough to know it was true, then say that enough to hold.

How can the brain remember the common tortures that the prostituted know?

No, the mind will remember enough to say the prostitute was not to blame, to show her how trapped she was, to say it was a living hell she had to endure – then say that enough, now learn to it never your fault.

It is the job of the mind to teach those who are lucky enough exit the sex trade that they can and will heal.

Healing is made real if grief is fully expressed.

It is so hard for the prostituted class to grieve.

We have been taught and made to know we have no access to human emotions – we are sub-human so emotions are irrelevant.

The pain of exiting is learning we are fully human, learning we have the full gamut of human emotions.

Emotions is a shock to many survivors of the sex trade – we have no idea how to hold happiness, we fear anger, we need to learn it ok to be still – and grief overwhelms and tears us apart.

We have so much to grieve about – for our grief is never just our personal history, we carry the grief of the silenced prostituted class from all time and every continent, our grief is now connected to all still trapped inside the sex trade.

It a grief that would rip the world apart if fully express or truly heard.

Our grief is constantly hidden, censored, made tame or put into words the prostituted find no meaning for their lives.

The true grief of the prostituted class is a revolution that must be suppressed.

Our grief see and has a clear picture of the cold heart of male violence. We know most male violence is pre-planned and done to make women and children into nothing.

The point of making the prostituted class is make humans objects – so it become if and when there is male violence, it becomes that nothing is done to nothing.

In our grief we remember what being nothing is – it is the language of trash, the language of Whore, the language of fuck-object – it is the language that makes the male orgasm holy.

So yes we have personal grief – grief of being raped into being sub-human, grief of knowing torture is common and always ignored, grief of losing huge parts of our life and memory.

Yes of course grief is personal – but as an exited woman I know I am always connected to all the prostituted from all time, all cultures, all classes, all background and all aspects of the sex trade.

I was told I was nothing – now I know I am strongly connected to some of the bravest, strongest and spiritual peoples that ever existed.

I am very proud to be a small part of the prostituted class.

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