No Prostitution Day

Today is International No Prostitution Day.

Wow, one day in the sea of pro-sex work propaganda.

One day to confront the male demand for the prostituted.

One day to grieve the endless rapes, torturing and murders of the prostituted.

One day to speak to the trauma, suicides and internal/external injuries that is the realities of the prostituted.

One day to say it is not drugs that push most into prostitution – no drugs becomes a way of staying alive by numbing and destroying the reality of being made into subhuman fuck toy.

One day to mourn how so many girls with no access to self-worth, often fron years of  neglect, abuse and isolation are the supply for sex trade profiteers.

One day no prostitution is the cure to female poverty – not when pimps steal the money, – and not when no money is ever enough to stop life-long trauma from serial raping and torturing.

One day to say out loud about complex trauma as only gift that is given to exited women. Trauma worse than most frontline soldiers.

One day to speak to all the physical injuries done to the prostitute – the ripping of our vaginas and anuses, the constant reality of STDs, the bruises, the lose of memory from bashing our heads too often, the marks from strangulation, the cuts and external/internal injuries from sadist sex acts.

And that a tiny tip of a endless iceberg  of what the prostituted endured.

That is rebranded as the risk of the job – and made invisible.

One day to say the prostituted have always resisted this sexual slavery – but the story of prostitution is written by punters and sex trade profiteers, so our voices are silenced.

One day to say, there can be no safe form of how to be a prostitution, there can no safe place to be prostituted in.

The only safety is abolished all forms of prostitution.

We need shout out loud to drown out the sex work propaganda, and not for one but every day until all the prostituted are free.

 

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Whoredom

I cannot leave the shadows, the ghosts of being prostituted.

I am proud to build a real life, not the living inside sick world of whoredom – but all round me is reminders pulling out words of never being allowed to fully human.

I have written for years about the lack of humanity that is the existence of being that world.

But what is unforgivable is that lack of humanity is also the existence of too many who left the sex trade.

To be exited is not to be free, to be exited is know the grief that you constantly marked with reminders of whoredom.

To be fully human is in the gaze of others.

This gaze is one that says in many word and silence – once a whore, always a whore.

In that environment, full human rights and humanity is just a bitter dream for the vast majority of the prostituted, exited or enduring the sex trade.

I speak to the many ignorances, barriers and hate speech that build walls to any access for the prostituted class to be made fully human.

Before, I start this very personal and radical statement, I will write some context or at the least some words that explain why I will not shut up.

I wish to say much of shutting down access to humanity for the prostituted is not just by the usual suspects – sadly huge barriers are placed by those who are considered to be our allies.

To be a whore, is to know isolation. Isolation from friends and allies, who cannot fully empathise or even listen with openness to our realities.

Part of the stealing of our humanity is never to be allowed speak with independent and separate voices.

Instead we are treated as children or keep in a victim role.

This means our words and truths are translated into language that is acceptable to our allies.

Our rawness is tamed, our sense of deep and profound connections is made simple and tidy.

Our words describing hell are made ordinary, our knowledge of male violence is dismissed.

Most exited women learn through bitter experience to stay silent, only speaking truths to others exited women, or maybe to the echoes of grief and pain that is her surroundings.

Part of this terrible silence, comes from the constant lessening of our truths by speaking in comparisons.

Yes prostitution is connected to rape, to domestic violence and sexual harassment – but what is passed over is the differences and the scale.

To be prostituted is to know your rapes are called work – or the risk of the job.

Most women are raped, but for most women outside the sex trade it rare they are raped by more five separate men.

The prostituted have the norm of being raped by so many punters that they cannot count them without losing the will to live.

To be a full-time long- term prostituted woman is to be raped by hundreds or thousands different punters.

It is rape landscape, where the rapists have no individuality – no faces, no names and no words.

To be prostituted, is to call rape nothing, nothing too raped – see I was not dead, so what’s the problem?

Sexual harassment at work is viewed as a serious issue for the non-prostituted, often there can be tribunals or union involvement.

Sexual harassment for the prostituted is just the daily routine.

Our bodies are there to be grabbed, to be fucked over, to be forced to all and every sick fantasy that sex trade profiteers and punters can dream of.

We are not human, just goods for punters to poke, move around, screw, and stripped of all hope.

And when punters or sex trade decide to batter or more likely torture it is made of no importance – it nothing happening to nobody.

The battery of the prostituted is not the same as domestic violence, though of course it has many similarities.

No, we must used the language of torture, of human rights violations, of making a genocide when describing the beating down of the prostituted.

There is no aspect of prostitution where this beating is not the norm – for the real purpose is stripped the prostituted woman of all access to being human and making her is deposable goods.

To become a whore is broken down mentally and physically.

This may involved making her thinks no-one outside the whoredom cares about her – she has no friends or family, only the fake world of the sex trade.

This is to placed her in constant fear of worse violence or death, till she accept the unacceptable amounts of rapes and torturing as being not so bad.

This may involved placing branding on her so she not human, but the goods of a pimp.

This may involved moving her round many aspects of the sex trade, often increasing the violence – so she is disoriented and made to lose access to what it is to be fully human.

That is a human rights crisis, that is severe torture.

But when in the land of whoredom, is just sex work.

That is some of my anger, my pain, my grief that reminds even though I proud to an exited woman, proud of my struggle – I still nowhere near being considered as fully human.

When exited women are leaders in the Abolitionist movement, not constantly tamed and controlled by others – then that may a road back to being fully human.

When our deep wisdom and knowledge into male violence, into understanding complex trauma, into making connections of history, cultures and the public gaze is heard – then we may starting the journey back to humanity.

We need more than the Nordic Approach – we need the radical change of fully listening to the needs of the prostituted class, even when it goes against the interests of the Left or even feminists.

For until the Left and feminism fully listen to the prostituted – and does not speak over, through and for us – we will know they never see us as fully human, and we know we constantly being betrayed.

We have murdered, tortured and raped for the minimum of 4-5000 years – and our cries of pain, of sorrow and of needing a revolution have pushed away and silenced.

We are sick of being patience, of putting others before our existence – we are sick of be made invisible in your desire for radical chance.

The voices of whores are furious.

The fury of deep grief, fury of knowing every way the human body can be tortured but somehow stay alive, the fury of always to made into an appendix when it comes to human rights.

We know must bulldozed over allies who refuse to give simple access to being fully human.

We are a revolution, whether you like it or not.

 

My Self Alone

Writing this blog is very tough.

I try to connect to my words, but the more power in them, the more detached I get.

This blog is read all over the world, and I have only been to Europe and many American states.

I know my readership is beyond my counting, even in the early stages of this blog more readers than my mind can factor in.

All this is very surreal to me, especially as I live a very uninteresting lifestyle.

I choose to live with as few excitements as possible – for an interesting life can be a curse.

I like to be ordinary, like to go under the radar.

But this blog is the part of my soul, my lonely Self wanting publicity and some kind of purpose for a better future.

I write because it is the role I choose to live.

I write coz to survive prostitution is carry ghosts that demand a voice.

I write because silence is a living death.

Many of readers say this blog help give some voices to the prostituted who cannot speak out.

The prostituted who layer on layer on layer are dead from murder, suicide or unable to survive.

The prostituted who have been made to disappear – maybe into worst aspects of the sex trade, maybe into a silence made of too many memories, made bones pile on bones.

The prostituted made silent by torture of their minds and bodies.

The prostituted with no friends, no allies, no loving relatives and no support to express their pain to.

I hope with every ache of my heart, my blog is part of many exited women giving some words to this deadly silence.

In this blog, I try to speak to complex trauma.

I try to find a language that reaches in fragmented memory.

I try to find a language that reaches into the silence of the tortured, without it being framed by the torturer.

I try to find a language that is not afraid of deep grief – grief pull from eons of male hate and violence done to the prostituted on every continent.

And I try find a language that lays bare that trauma will always be with the prostituted when there no justice and they viewed as sub-human sexual goods.

My blog is my mission, it is more than work – it is scream, a plea, a demand that all the sex trade must be eradicated.

I am proud that I have become unstoppable – but also deeply saddened and shocked that I need to write this blog.

I do not see enough of the prostituted being allowed basic human rights  – so I must write.

I do not see the prostituted having the freedom of speech.

Instead, I see and hear the words of the prostituted being framed by sex trade profiteers as sex work, empowerment and even feminism.

Exited women have to fight all the time to being heard – as constantly the sex trade and its many allies silence and threaten our voices.

I see no access to freedom of movement for the prostituted.

Instead I see the constant movement of the prostituted into more violence, movement to disoriented the prostituted into deep silence.

I see the conditions of trafficking being made invisible by being framed as chosen sex work.

I see no right to safety for any prostitute in any country that makes the choice to normalised the sex trade.

Instead, I know that every moment, there are countless prostituted living inside mental, physical and sexual torturing.

I know every form of torture we have invented is rehearsed on the minds and bodies of the prostituted before it becomes a politic tool.

But the torturing of the prostituted is rebranded as adult entertainment, as porn, as kinky sex, or as boys being boys – and so it cannot be a human rights issue.

So, I see and know I must keep writing, for I live in a world that claim the prostituted are not human, just fuckable goods.

 

Can You Not See

This blog is a warning that is too often ignored.

Prostitution is pass over for more do-able causes.

Too often the myths of the sex trade lobby are made gospel, and the a deadening silence surrounds exited women.

I have enough, your ignorance is drowning out hope, killing my warrior spirit.

I will keep on keeping on – how can I stop when my prostituted Sisters are living in hell as you pass them by.

When will you see this is an international crisis, it is a endless genocide as vulnerable females replace destroyed prostituted women and girls?

When will you see the deaths, the rapes, the torturing and the mental destruction of the prostituted with a clear eye?

When will you stop framing as chosen work, but as slavery and entrapment?

And when will you stop making the prostituted sub-human, and get empathy with compassion for their suffering?

We are dying, and you are making statistics and writing books to keep us at a safe distant.

Why should exited women make nice, as you so clearly see our lives as research or a way to further your career – not seeing our souls or desire to matter.

I have writing and speaking for a decade, and too much of energy is used up repeating myself coz our lives still are made not to count.

I am proud to an Abolitionist, proud of my family roots in fighting for civil and human rights – but it is like being Sisyphus.

Ted It is the silence of so-called allies that hurts and makes my work so hard.

Too many liberal feminists justify the sex trade, finding multiple excuses for their men to consume the prostituted.

Too many anti-trafficking groups finds why to ignore adult prostitution framing it as chosen work, and separating out “real” trafficking and child sexual exploitation from that “good” prostitution.

Too many radical feminists say the prostituted are betrayer for “allowing” male violence, or not being gold- plated lesbians.

With friends like this, it is surprising most exited women don’t kill themselves.

We deal with that, we smile, we negotiate, we try to teach – we perform the good exited woman with a pain and grief following us.

All the time, exited women who speak truth to power are attacked with a vengeance by the sex trade lobby.

This lobby is the voices of sex trade profiteers and punters.

It is often spoken through the media, through academia, though all forms of cultural speech – the reality is the language of the sex trade lobby is the background noise all exited women are drowning in.

The worst aspect of this hate-speech of the sex trade lobby is how they use that most exited women live with complex trauma to their advantage.

This is shown in how it is common for them to demands facts of how many punters raped us, where we were raped, what age we were, and why if was so terrible we never reported any of our rapes.

All this is said with the full knowledge that exited women could have fragmented memory – or have been so often it all merges into one.

The sex trade lobby uses our trauma to claim exited women have no handle on knowing the reality of prostitution.

Added to this cruel statement, is always that only the prostituted who are currently in the sex trade should be listen to.

It is made invisible that these voices can easier be manipulated to speak the words of sex trade profiteers and punters.

It is made invisible that the prostituted can be punished for not speaking the words of those who are oppressing them.

There is no such thing as free speech for the prostituted.

I am angry at how hard this work is.

 

Goodbye to Soho

I spent too many years in Soho, I know the good and bad side.

I know it has the best Italian food and coffee in London.

I know I have many Hollywood pictures from Soho.

I know it is a haven for live jazz.

But it still the place of nightmares, place of self-harming – place that reminds me I never anything but a whore.

So this a goodbye post to some of nightmares – maybe then Soho can just my Italian deli instead.

As a young child, I would run away to Soho. My school was off Marylebone Road, and I walked from there to heart of sleaze land.

Soho had not been cleaned – the sex trade was more blatant.

As a child, I thought I belong to the world of sleaze and self-hating.

Soho was a training pad for my future as a whore, as incest was giving me instructions on how act as a whore.

Soho and my stepdad sexually abusing were hand in glove.

My stepdad work in the heart of Soho as an advertising director.

He took me out as his whore-princess – showing off to embarrassed Italian waiters.

In his Soho office, I was paraded in front of his staff, all knowing that I was his step-daughter, as he bragged he would fuck me later.

I learnt to smile through his bragging, I learnt to be silent as screaming was drowning me.

Often as a child, I left in the Soho streets as my mother went to see my stepdad.

My mother told me stand still and not to speak to anyone.

The worst advice ever.

I was became a perfect whore aged 8 or 9, as men drove past asking how much, or saying come to my flat.

I lost hope, so came close to entering a car – knowing I would raped, maybe murdered.

But at least my rapist would not pretend that he love me or that he saw me as a human.

An American tourist stopped me getting in the car – seeing the truth that I a child who lost.

As he try to speak with me, asking where my mother – I had no words, maybe some swear words, as I could say my mother was the fire I was running from.

I know in my waking nightmares, Soho was a major factor is stealing my hope, stealing my childhood.

Soho made me becoming a whore my fate.

How do I forgive or forget that?

To Liberal Feminists

Dear liberal feminists, I have lost patience with your backing of the sex trade.

Sorry, in your deep ignorance, you say it is sex work.

You listen to sex trade profiteers, listen to male concepts of prostitution, listen to statements of empowerment and liberation – but stubbornly dismiss the multiple voices of exited.

This is like trying to understand the Holocaust by reading the diaries of SS officers, and avoiding testimonies of survivors of the concentration camps.

Oh, I hear your loud denial and justifications.

I hear and see clearly you many ways of pushing away exited women.

Now in this post, I will To how you are betraying all the prostituted – by doing so you are proving you have no real understanding of feminism.

I have hurt your precious feelings – well suck it up, you are colluding with genocide.

If you make the choice to call prostitution sex work.

If you speak in the language of labour rather than the language of human rights.

If you claim prostitution is a choice – especially an empowered choice.

If you rebrand the prostituted as sexual outlaws.

If you say the only “bad” push into the sex trade is poverty.

If you separate child prostitution from adult prostitution.

If you think New Zealand has the best approach to prostitution.

If you say the Nordic Approach is dangerous and pushing prostitution underground.

If you think indoors prostitution can made safe.

If you back sex work unions or collectives.

If rebrand prostitution and porn as adult entertainment or boys being boys.

If you external trafficking is economic migration.

If you disconnect child sexual exploitation from prostitution.

If you turn away from the racism of all the sex trade.

If, if, if you do any or all of these things, then you are no feminist and you are part of the problem.

This is not a labour issue, it not sex work.

Would be willing to having every cell in your body abused, ripped at, raped, threatened with death.

Would be willing to let even one punter do that to your body, let so many punters that you lose count.

Would you not deadened all emotions, try to get out of your body.

Can you not imagine that to be raped so often, it loses the language of violence and become your norm.

Till you survive by refusing to know it as hate and violence – and reinventing hell as chosen and empowering.

Is that your definition of sex? Would you call that work?

I frame it as slavery, as exploitation, as the making of a sub-human class named the prostituted.

I see the rapes, the torturing and the deaths of the prostituted as the longest genocide  humans ever invented.

It started when the first caveman understood he could exchange food or goods for other men to rape “his” women.

Yes, prostitution is old, there as a background noise in almost all cultures.

It has many forms of hiding.

The stealing of women in territorial wars to rape and own is not as part of the sex trade.

The selling of wives is not part of the sex trade.

Geishas are placed outside the sex trade.

Stripping is disconnected from prostitution.

All this part of the sex trade, all fit in with prostitution.

But, you liberal feminists spend endless hours saying and writing about good and bad prostitution.

You are so desperate to imagine that prostitution can be made nice – safe and clean for your boyfriends, husband, fathers, uncles, work colleagues to consume.

You are imaging you doing this for the prostituted – bullshite, you are enabling the violence and hate of punters.

Your ignorance is increasing the profits for the sex trade.

Your ignorance is giving permission for punters to as sadist as they want with no consequences.

Your ignorance is increasing all forms of trafficking into the sex trade.

You are no innocent bystander, but an enabler of genocide.

I have enough of making nice, for as you debate and justify doing as little as possible – the prostituted are being tortured and killed.

Wake up.

Paid Rape

Punters want you to believe they are gentlemen, are too vulnerable to have real sex, are just lads on the town.

Punters love to lie.

What gets to me is not their constant lying, but that so many people make the choice to believe them.

Punters are rapists.

Punters enjoy sadism.

Punters have no empathy.

And, most important, punters are criminals.

They are not good men.

To explain my radical view, I will record some of my experiences, and you tell how would their action be framed if they were punters.

Of course, this may be graphic, may upset – you have the choice to turn away.

I write coz I had no choice to escape their hate and violence – and my experiences are a tiny part of the reality for the prostituted.

1. One punter, who considered himself my friend, but treated as his whore.

He brought into the girlfriend experience.

I was his slave, but he pretended we were mates.

It was his habit to take me to parties, to pubs and show me off.

All the time quietly undermining my will to live by speaking over, by sexually abusing me whenever he thought he could get away with it.

He was a fan of American football, and made me watch it.

If I lost interest, or look at the dancing girls too much, he would anally rape me.

It was his game to keep in his flat for weeks, often not allowing me to sleep.

When he went out, I was locked in.

2. A memorable punter was about 30 to 40 years older than me.

He also show me off in pubs, even claiming I was his granddaughter.

This punter love extreme violent anal sex.

He would force me, standing up, against his wall. He would force my legs together, and with no warning, no lubricants, and with my face facing the wall – he rammed his penis up my anus.

I usually fainted, I normally bleed for two or three days after a session with him.

I coped by drinking whisky, by trying to not be there.

But the pain was so deep, it became embedded in my body.

I ended up in hospital because of his violence, having my anus sew up.

3. My entrance into prostitution was one of several gang rapes in a six hour period.

I was placed in a bed sit as the new whore for sale.

I was 14, young enough for for punters to think they were breaking a virgin.

I was sold as liking it as violent as possible. I was sold as a sub-human.

The breaking in was that I was raped – gang-raped – by lines of punters.

Every cell in my body was broken down, until I had nothing left.

As I became their ideal whore, I lost all contact with hope, all contact with a world outside the sex trade.

I was broken, but the gang-raping went on and on and on and on.

Until, for no reason I was throw out onto the street.

I went a disturbed and vulnerable teenager, I left a perfect whore.

 

I have written the tip of the iceberg – but it too much for now.

Just know I was raped every time a punter chose to buy me – and I exited prostitution when I was 27.