How can I explain what it is and was to be prostituted.
It is to be in the land of the unspeakable, the land that is cold without memory of how to be human.
In this post, I will focus on being raped.
Rape for my prostituted Self has little or no meaning – all I know it is too small a word to described years of sexual torture by countless punters.
Rape for the prostituted has no words, no meaning and put no rest for surviving that hell.
Let put rape of the prostituted into the language of torture, into the language of living inside genocide, into the language where words are stolen or lost.
Then at least, we may get a surface idea of what it is to sexually abused as a prostitute.
But I try to go deeper, I try to reach into the book and guts of the prostituted Self.
I want to reach into that Self being raped by so many punters that it become her norm.
To be raped till the only way to live, is to stop all feelings, end having emotions – to become sexual goods who just holes and skin for punter to screw.
For the prostituted, punters become faceless and nameless – only all punters can at any time and place torture, serially rape or murder the prostituted.
Rape is just the tip of the violence done to the prostitued,
Classic penis in vagina rape is speakable, most sexual violence done to the prostituted is made unspeakable and therefore unseeable.
I would say most if all sexual violence done to the prostituted is torture.
Imagine being raped by hundreds of men over many years – then you may understand.
Imagine your body being tortured in all the ways you read of political prisoners – then you may understand.
Imagine that torture is beyond your imagination – that every cell in your body, every breath you take, all that makes you know you is human is stolen from you. Then you could beginning to understand.
To be prostituted, is to live with the constant knowledge that at any time or place, this sexual violence can lead to murder or being made to disappear.
It is to live inside a constant state of genocide – only made invisible by constant flow of the vulnerable being replayments for the disappeared.
This builds a silence of not knowing how to explain of being prostituted.
I hope my writing reaches deeper into that silence – and start building ways to describe the unspeakable.