I want to try and go deeper into what it was/is to be one of the prostituted.
I not sure if I can find the language that fits that part of my soul, only that I want to use simple known words to express the edges of that hell.
I have a small hope that our language, language that usually is used to cover all violence done to the prostituted – a small hope that that language can become a tool in describing what we were taught was unspeakable.
I write, first and foremost – in order to push towards abolition.
I believe that to get abolition, we must known thoroughly the conditions that the vast majority of the prostituted are enduring.
Abolition is not just about the mind leading – we need to dig into our guts to remember hell, we have to have a spirit that fights but also protects us, we need the soothing laughter as we tell dark jokes of our reality – and to be an exited woman and an abolitionist, we need many places where we can escape.
I write this blog with my mind, my guts, my place of escape and with a sick sense o humour. Then slowly, I can see my own place of hell.
To start, I would say to be prostituted is to lose all sense of having a self.
It is not own your own skin, not know if you had a past or have any interest in a future, it is only function when told and be confused when alone too long.
That is what is meant by being made sub-human.
Prostitute are more than just objects or the property of punters and sex trade profiteers – they have had their humanity throw into the trash, and their right just to be made impossible as hands, mouths, violent words, gags and all forms of torture remind them they are nothing.
That is the essence of prostitution.
Prostitution is violence, prostitution is hate, prostitution does creates a world-wide genocide.
All genocide are created by forcing the oppressed into deep silence. All oppressors will say this will never be remembered, for we have stolen the language of their truths.
The prostituted have been silenced for too many centuries – maybe since the first man discover he could exchange goods not only to rape his woman, but also trade her round other men.
The screams, revolt, cries, grief, hate, fury of the prostituted has written out of history for too long – written over by the language of sex trade profiteers and punters.
There are brief glimpses of their truths creeping through the words of their oppressors – words that express despair, words that hold out rebellion, words that say no more.
These words are there in novels, in songs, in plays, in letters, on TV and films, in poetry and in testimonies – all are hard to find for the sex trade suppresses these words, or surround it with the Happy Hooker myth.
But, for part of pushing forward abolition is to re-discover the voices of the prostituted from many centuries, many cultures, and see it inside the enemy camp as clear voices of resistance.
I write now with more freedom than my previous prostituted Sisters – I am living in a time where a space is clearing for the authentic voices of exited to not only be heard, but accepted as the leaders of the abolitionist movement.
It is not easy to speak out – but I am grateful to be in a time that finally has learnt to listen and not to interrupt or re-write our truths.
This is a revolution – a revolution that was building up for many centuries and in every continent.
For if we allow the multiple voices of exited to lead the abolitionist movement – we are shaking the foundations of the hate and violence that is the sex trade.
To let exited women truly speak – you must be able to hear grief of centuries, grief of all our prostituted Sisters who could never exit, grief that we built societies that made invisible that the prostituted were made sub-human.
To let exited women truly speak – you must be able to a fury of centuries, fury that almost every time we speak we are spoken over or though, fury that torture is practice on the prostituted and no-one cares, fury that our rapes are made into the risk of the job.
Can you hold that – or will it like most of history, become the unhearable and translated into a language without pain, anger and grief.
You cannot make real change if you constantly turn away from words that describe what need to be change.
We needed pictures, testimonies and books to start to understand the Holocaust.
We needed the voices of slaves to begin to want to end slavery.
Without the authentic voices of the oppressed, we see no reason for change – for all we hear is the voices of the oppressors.
Do not allow the sex trade lobby to lead how we find words to describe what it is to be prostituted.