To understand what it is to be prostituted, and drop the language of sex worker – it is vital to write to the middle of that world.
For to be prostituted is to be trapped in another world, a world shut away from safety, a world shut away from loved ones, a world where hope is drown in pain and grief.
I enter this world when I was in my early teens, a child who thought she know she would could never be hurt any more.
Boy, I was so wrong – I like most under-aged prostituted girls had an hardened naivety.
I thought I understand rape – I had no idea.
I thought I knew pain – I had no idea.
I thought I not hate myself any more – I had no idea.
I learnt fast to somehow stay alive, to somehow keep a small slice of privacy to myself – I must kill my emotions, stop thinking of a future, and be nothing until I could something.
By the time, I hit my twenties, I was embedded in the world of being sex goods.
By my twenties, I had forgotten to hope, I had cut off most friends or family.
By my twenties, I had made myself into a sex robot, and all life outside the world of prostitution was surreal.
I was dead – but stubbornly keep breathing.
I have spent years refusing to know my twenties – refusing that time when all the light at the end of the tunnel, was nothing but a train on fire.
I keep alive with having negative dreams and ideas.
I was alive when I cut myself, alive as I was sick after overdosing, alive as the pain from punters filter pass my numbness.
I read philosophy that spoke to killing strangers for no reason or cause, I dreamt of the neutron bomb destroying all people and leaving architecture standing.
I had no power, no access to free choices, no right to safety – all I had was escape into death and destruction.
I could not name this as fury – I was not safe or secure enough to know anger.
Anger is a privilege that only comes when we are safe, when our anger can be expressed without torture, hate and mental abuse being throw at us.
Anger is liberation, but it is very unsafe for the prostituted.
I could not name it as grief or trauma – how could I know that when I heard only words of empowerment, that I had the power to manipulate punters, that it was my choice to be in this world.
Grief is unable to be when trapped into terror, and no idea if you will survive the next hour let alone get out of the twenties.
Grief comes when you have security, when you can see connections, when you have a past with a future.
Prostituted women only have the present, for all else is too painful to be with.
Trauma is in every cell of the prostituted.
Every time, a punter makes a choice to buy a prostitute, he is pouring trauma into her.
To be prostituted is more than living with being serially raped.
It is to be raped over and over and over and over and over until you forget that you have a body.
It is to be gang-raped but by one punter after another after another after another after another – until punters all become the same, with no face, no nationality, and no heart.
No punter buys a prostituted woman to just have ordinary sex, or think he is buying a human.
All punters are buying sexual goods, only seeing glimpses of life as his private sex-doll.
Punters are paying to own, to control, to pour as much pain as possible into her.
Punters are paying to be in a world of torture, hate and pain, where he is is the boss and there are no consequences.
This is not a world where prostituted women can stop rape, stop torture or even get the punter to wear a condom.
It not a world of mutual consent, not a world where no has any meaning.
It is a world where a whole class of mainly women have become the unrapable.
A world with no rape, just consumers maybe overstepping the mark, just a few bad apples.
To be prostituted in most cultures, is not allow to be human,
Think of basic rights, and apply them to the prostituted. I will look at UN human rights and think on it.
It starts with that all should be free and live in dignity.
Well, that means nothing to punters and sex trade profiteers who decide to make the prostituted into sub-human sexual goods.
Where is dignity as you are raped, as you are tortured, as you are mentally broken down?
Then there is the idea that there should be life, liberty and security for all humans.
Not for the prostituted, we must not be human enough to have those simple rights.
Oh, there the classic universal human to not be tortured, be in the line of degrading treatment or punishment.
Well, the sex trade profiteers just rebrand degradation and torture as kinky sex, S/M, extras etc, then there must no problem.
After all, if the torturing and degradation gets too much, well the prostituted are disposal and will be replaced.
There is the right to no arbitrary arrests.
But how can governments get taxes off the prostituted, if these arrests are not regular?
There is the human right to freedom of movement.
Well, the sex trade profiteers have a sick sense of humour about that one.
They move the prostituted all over the place, from one sadist form of prostitution to another sadist part of the sex trade.
No prostitute have full freedom or control on how and why she is moved.
There is the right to freedom of thought, opinion, expression.
That is stolen from the prostituted from the first punters to fuck her and the first exchange of goods or money for that act.
To be prostituted is stop all free thoughts, to have opinion force down your throat by sex trade profiteers and punters, and all expression raped out of you.
To think too freely when embedded in prostitution can be a ticket to death.
It is best to forget you have a mind or sense of being an individual.
There is the right to leisure, including paid holidays.
Prostituted women can only dream of that.
Punters don’t care if it is Christmas or Bank Holiday, their right to fuck is more important.
Heck, why would prostitutes need to have leisure, all they doing is being paid to do what most do for their leisure time?
That is some of human rights that are stolen from the prostituted – and we are meant to be calm about this.
I will end here, for I have two posts in one – I hope it makes sense.