I have been told I am fantasist by sex work promoters.
Hell, I wish I knew nothing about the inside of indoors prostitution. I wish I went on my merry way never thinking about the conditions that the prostituted live.
It would never be my fantasy to be prostituted.
Of course, I had many fantasies.
I wanted to be Lauren Bacall, I wanted to be a highwaywoman, I wanted to live in St Lucia, I wanted to be an famous author.
I had many fantasies.
I wanted to live without any violence, I wanted to loved in a honest way, I wanted life to slow down enough to be secure, I wanted to remember what it was to be human.
But it was never part of my imagination to be prostituted.
All I knew was the cartoon images that we are told is real prostitution.
The image of drugged-out, homeless and living without love street prostitute.
The Happy Hooker with her heart of gold, who enjoys sex and making punters happy.
The escort who is rich, who controls the punters and would never allow them to be violent.
The trafficked prostituted woman who has no rights – is raped beyond rape, is battered, and vanishes when she is too old, that is over 23.
All these images had nothing to do with who I thought I was.
I knew of prostitution, but it meant very little to me till I lost my will to live.
Then I hang out in King’s Cross and Soho – I was so young and could only know what a child perceives.
I was round 9 to 11 when I enter Soho and King’s Cross, I went looking for a place where I could hate myself, and I found it.
I found a place of emptiness, dead eyes, humans in desperation being brought and sold.
I found my Ice Kingdom that many lost children are attracted to.
I found I could fit as I learnt to murder emotions, grow a heart of ice, and to believe I was worth nothing.
I was growing towards prostitution, so I keep believing I was in some kind of control.
It was the control of wanting suicide but not knowing how to die.
It was the control of having some place where I could stop feeling.
It was the control that now is called choice – the choice of a zombie.
So, to survive I decided that I choose to enter prostitution when I was 14.
Tell me, what is meant by choice?
Tell me how I at 14 could of chosen knowing all the information?
Could I know that no matter what type of prostitution I did, violence would be a shadow that would never leave.
Could I know that punters always hold the power over my body and mind, and can rape/torture/murder me as a whim.
Could I know how hard it was to exit prostitution.
Could I know that I would have extreme PTSD as a legacy of many years of prostitution.
Well, I thought I was clued up but I knew nothing.
What became my reality was never part of any fantasy that I had.
It was hell – plain and simple.
I speak to that truth – not some fantasy.