As an exited woman, I have to live with how others see the prostituted.
Most of the views of the prostituted are stereotypes whether from liberal feminists, Leftists, religious folks, friends or anyone else who feign an interest in the prostituted.
I find it only some radical feminists – not all – who listen and learn, rather tell exited women what it is to be prostituted.
I am not surprised there are so many stereotypes of what it is to be prostituted.
For at least 3000 to 4000 years, the prostituted have had no voices/voices to say who and what we are. Instead our realities are written out by being written other by those who gain from the sex trade.
It is written by punters/johns who want to ease their guilt, to pretend there is no violence coming from them.
To build up a fantasy that all the prostituted are adults – or at least adult-thinking – all the prostituted love sex and are adventurous, all the prostituted love their lifestyles.
In other words, the image of the whore-goddess, courtesan, geisha and high-class is a punter’s wet dream, and not a reality.
This image is made over many centuries and from many cultures, to stop outsiders of the sex trade looking too closely at the conditions for the so-called Happy Hooker.
The image is made to be struck in time and space, in a small moments where the prostituted can paint on a smile for the punter.
In that moment when the prostituted will say and do whatever makes a punter thinks she must be happy – this is never hard or the majority of punter have huge egos, so assume any prostitute that he has is thrilled and of course he is respectful.
It is important for the sex trade to continue, that no-one see behind the smile of the Happy Hooker.
We must not see that all the prostituted – no matter how high-class or made into goddesses – live in the constant reality of extreme male violence.
We must see that most Happy Hookers are moved all over the sex trade – many have worked the streets, many are put into porn, many are or have been strippers – all this done to shown the prostituted that they have no human rights, and will live in a constant of fear and instability.
We must see that the vast majority of Happy Hookers are not making it rich. Many have their earning taken as fines or greed of sex trade profiteers. Many may hate money connected to prostitution that they cannot and will not save it.
I and every exited woman I know, have never meet a Happy Hooker.
I have seen many prostituted women who speak the language of the stereotype of a Happy Hooker, but always in their eyes, in the pauses between the words and the words that cannot be said – there are other truths.
If we see outside the brief moment of smiling for a punter, we see centuries of prostituted pain, prostituted fear, prostituted and prostituted fury.
For to be prostituted is to be connected all the prostituted dead or alive, from your culture and all other cultures, from your class background and all other classes, from your individual country to all countries.
To be prostituted is to know what it to have no individuality – but in hidden heart to fight to remember you are and were a person.
If you back the sex trade, or even make excuses for its existence – then you are allowing that the prostituted are sub-human, and can never have access to full human rights.
Each time a punter makes the choice to buy another human for his sexual greed/need – he is making the choice to not see the human in the prostituted, and just see sexual goods.
This is made clear by the statement –
Prostitution is buying a service, not a person.
This can only be said if you willfully decide that to take sex from the prostituted is done without her mind and essence being present.
And that is presented as a good thing.
To me, that amount of detachment is signs of deep trauma.
To force your body from your mind, to detach your humanity in such an extreme fashion – is to know terror, pain and hate is present at any time or place for the prostituted.
Detachment is survival for prostituted – it is not a sign of strength or enjoyment.
I will end here, coz my brain is crying – but this is a start, not an end.