Time of the Plague

During this Coronavirus crisis, I want to focus on the prostituted.

Of course everyone is vulnerable to this virus – but I write coz the prostituted as usual are made invisible.

Their welfare is not a priority or even thought about as far as authorities are concerned. As usual it left to the volunteer sector and too much to exited women without funds or support.

This crisis is yet another reminder that the prostituted are considered to be non-humans, so their physical and mental welfare is not important.

The prostituted should be a priority for they are in grave danger.

How can any prostitute be safe when all punters ignore no touch and keeping a safe distance.

Remember this not one punters, but many.

The virus is a lottery, and very likely to affect a large part of the population – so tell how the prostituted can be keep safe.

Punters will kiss, will penetrate every hole they can find, will spit, will spread sperm all over her body, will hit, will choke – all violence done in close contact is done to the prostituted body.

How is that not a breeding ground for any and all viruses.

But by some miracle the prostituted are meant to be safe.

Please repeat everywhere you can this message.

I am scared and very sad about this.

 

 

Mind Been Away

I have been unable to write coz my mind cannot allow in prostitution and all that shite.

So, I write to turn on my brain.

Write to cold centre of what prostitution means to me now.

I see only silences and gaps – staring into a black hole, maybe I can adjust to find shapes and meanings to my fragmented memory.

This post is an exploration of trauma, and how it creates those holes in the brain.

I write from experience, but if I can connect that is a bonus.

Prostitution and the violence that is prostitution is repetitive – that makes hard to remember individual punters, individual places, hard to know what age you were.

Prostitution is about learning not to remember, learning to survive the moment and then act as if it never happened.

In all forms of prostitution, violence is a norm, death is all round the prostituted woman.

Think of high rates of suicides, early deaths from ill health and murders of most prostituted women.

Think of how 27 is the average age of death of a prostituted woman.

Think how normal murders of prostituted have become, have always been – so normal that it not worth reporting or having any true records.

Think how many serial murders kill the prostituted, in the knowledge that it is of no importance coz their lives are subhuman.

Like every exited woman I know, I have ghosts in my life of prostituted women who were disappeared or we know were murdered, committed suicide or for too many reasons never could exit.

Those of us who have been lucky enough to exit, we all live with trauma shadowing our lives.

Most of us are warriors who carry the scars and memories with great dignity and courage – but however sorted we appeared, we always carry the damage that the sex trade planted into our souls.

Trauma is more than grief.

Trauma is more than a frustrated fury.

Trauma is more than an attempt to remember and put logic on the holes of our past.

Trauma is that a lack of justice.

Trauma is all those thing and so much more, more that language cannot express.

I write words from 2008 trying to understand – the more I write the more know words cannot express trauma, only touch the edges.

Trauma is the loudest silent scream that seems to know end only it stuck in a middle.

Trauma is an invisible agony, where every wound is dismissed by society.

Trauma is the essence of isolation.

To understand trauma is to see beyond words, beyond the brave exterior – see into the black hole until it forms shapes and forms.

To understand trauma means seeing there can no healing without justice.

Justice for the prostituted has many forms, which I know only the surface of us.

There is no justice when most cultures and societies have made normal that men have the entitlement to buy mainly women as sexual goods.

Of course, this entitlement effects the lives of all women.

As long as men can buy women as sexual goods – all women are stripped of humanity as all they are is to be sexual goods that are can be thrown away.

But, part of the lack of justice is that even as this male entitlement paints all women as non-human, the prostituted are still made invisible and alienated from any connection with other women.

I believe though I know this Male hate and violence is place on all women – the essence of this hate is how men choose to creat a special class of the prostituted to torture and destroy.

If we are to build a route to justice, we must separate the prostituted out – and not always say it about all women.

Think of domestic violence, acquaintance rape, incest, stalking, sexual harassment etc..

All these are common experiences of all females, but most are not on the scale of the prostituted.

Most women and girls live with a constant reality of isolated events of Male violence, many lives with these events occurring over and over and over.

Most women are living inside a crime scene with a sense there could be an end.

To be prostituted is to know hope is an illusion.

The prostituted lives inside all forms of Male violence being into their bodies at any time and in any place.

Men buy the prostituted to rehearse all ways to torture, humiliate, mentally abuse and destroy women.

To be prostituted is more than being raped – it is being so often and so many ways, that all humanity is wiped out.

Most prostituted women have been raped so often that the language of rape has lost it meaning.

All that is left is a sense of emptiness and a fury without end.

The prostituted know beatings and physical torturing in all its forms, especially in the forms which society chooses to silenced and make into the unspeakable.

The bodies of the prostituted are made silent, made invisible and in the long nothing but the living dead.

To be prostituted is to be in a concentration camp of Male violence.

I am just beginning to explore trauma.

Please say what you think, and if you have anything to add or start a conversation do .

 

 

 

Voice Unheard

This post is tribute to all the exited women who write and speak out.

It may appear we are shouting to the wind, but it is bringing about real and permanent change.

A change that shake those sitting on the wall of doubt into following the road to abolition.

A change where those who follow the sex work lobby without thinking too much, to people who cannot a world that buy and sell human for male sexual greed.

Our voices are that earthquake – even as all we see is the rocks crashing down on us.

I want to all exited sisters – you are my spirit and warrior family.

You are my conscience. You have unfrozen my heart.

I exited from every continent through writing this blog – and every day I learn from you all.

I am proud to be part of you, proud to be Abolitionist, proud to be alive after living inside hell.

I know we can never stop speaking out, not as the silent screams of those still in the sex trade burns our skins.

Those who are reading this, and are not exited from the sex trade – stop and fully listen to the multiple voices of exited women.

Do place them into neat stereotypes – the eternal victim, the strong warrior, the damaged goods, the inspiring preacher and so forth.

See beyond those boxes, see each and every exited women is a mixture of strength, deep vulnerability, living with trauma, often deeply detached, capable of revoluntary   thoughts and words.

To be an exited is live inside contradictions as your norm.

The most important to know is that in my opinion my exited sisters are the bravest and most clear thinking people that I have ever know.

This is not in most of those stereotypes – for to see that is know that exited women are more than ready to take leadership roles, and to make the revolution that is how abolition is formed.

Instead it is safer to kept the wild and targeted voices of exited women tame and controllable.

Hell, too often so-called allies of the left, in the feminist groups or religious organisations keep as as pet writers or speakers, but never allow us to be full human beings.

I see it come from fear – but I so tired of putting your fears and ignorance before the rights of the prostituted.

What are afraid of.

You may say it hard know that pain and exploitation – but would turn away from battered women and the raped.

You may say it hard to judge when some women appear happy to be prostituted – but have you taken time and space to see her with a clear eye.

I am tired of being there for your fear – as too often it just an excuse to do nothing for the prostituted, and pass on to easier fights.

I see a darkness in your fear.

The darkness that keeps exited women as the Other, as non-human who must stay controlled and easy to manage.

This is silences us – for no exited women wants to be controlled and managed again.

Our spirit is that of runaway horse, the lone wolf, the eagle with clear eye.

We will not be fenced in for your convenient.

To I would like to just thanks my exited sisters in Europe – England, Scotland, Ireland, France, Italy, Spain, Netherlands, Germany, Romania, Russia, Ulkraine and others I may of forgot.

Same to my America exited sisters – USA, Canada, Mexico, Argentina, Brazil, West Indies, Cuba, Ecuador and others I may of forgot.

Same to my African exited sisters – Kenya, South Africa, Namibia, Guinea, Egypt, Saudi Arabia, Israel, Nigeria and others I may of forgot.

Same to my Asian exited sisters – Thailand, Cambodia, India, Pakistan,China, Hong Kong, Japan, and others I may of forgot.

And my Australasian exited sisters – Australia, New Zealand, Samoa, Papua New Guinea and others I may of forgot.

We are a power that is shaking the world.

 

Use Me

I am trying to get back to my writing, but a wall of doubt surrounds me.

I thought I would go back to basics, and speak to spirit, mind and body of my prostituted Self.

The Self that was used, abused and tossed into the trash.

The Self that slowly coming into life.

The Self that is a warrior.

I write to my past in order to make a future.

To build a secure and contented future, confronting my prostituted self – and facing the profiteers and punters with a clear eye is vital.

For to understand what it is prostituted, we must see the cause of their oppression – we must see it the demand that create the trauma, the terror and the deadness that is the prostituted.

To be prostituted is made non-human – to be made into consumable sexual goods.

To be prostituted is be nothing but an object for punters to use for orgasms, for violence without consequences.

To be prostituted is want to die but have no mental or physical energy left to commit suicide.

I see punters as they are, not how they want the world to see.

I was consumed by men from many cultures, many classes, many ethniticities – Iwas fucked other by any man who felt the entitlement to buy another human for his sexual greed.

To be prostituted is to know any man from any background is capable of extreme sexual violence and hate.

I have had punters who were poor demanding a quick fuck as their right.

I have had rich punters who thought the more they paid, the more violence they pour into my mind and body.

I had African punters who were training to rule and oppress their countries – practicing how destroy another human by consuming the prostituted.

I had punters who fought and campaigned for human rights – but thought it was fine to torture a prostitute.

I had religious punters who held out the Bible, the Koran or the Torah as prayed over my evil Soul – but still fuck me into a living hell.

This is just examples of the hypocrisy that all punters carry.

Nearly all punters will be invisible – hiding in plain sight as the good guys, the men who must would considered as non-threatening.

To be prostituted is to know the darkness inside the good guy.

Most punters are buying an object to torture – it is not an sexual act, it is an act of oppression.

It is rare that punters just do so-called normal sex.

Instead to be prostituted is to be in the line of constant mental/physical/sexual torturing.

Punters are paying to destroy the prostituted – but they will justify this by saying and creating a universe where the prostitute is there coz she loves it.

To be prostituted, is be told over and over and over that you choose that lifestyle – so no harm is done to you, it all just a game.

Hell, if it so bad – why doesn’t she just walk away.

Punters have painted the portrait of the Happy Hooker for at least 3000 years, spreading that myth into any culture that chooses to normalise the sex trade.

Punters write the history of the prostituted – so it is no surprise that novels, movies, tv shows, poetry, paintings all how the prostituted as either victims or Happy Hookers.

In other words, the prostituted are seen as non-human and just their for men to use and throw away.

Punters have this in mind every time they choose to buy the prostituted.

Before meeting the prostitute, he has made her into a non-human – he has invented millions of ways of justifying his violence and hate.

He will say it her choice, her way of being a sexual rebel or outsider.

He will say she is only doing to help her family or out of poverty, therefore he becomes some kind of White Knight when he pays her.

He imagines he not like those other punters – he is not violent, he would never rape any woman, he only buys adult prostitutes.

He imagines he is special to his prostitute – but angered that other punters consume her.

I could on forever about these justifications – all I can say is all punters are violent, all mentally abused the prostituted, and all be rapists and torturers.

There is no such thing as the good punter.

To be prostituted is know at any time and in any place, a punter can kill you, a punter can torture you – to know that all prostitution is unsafe.

 

Endings

Since moving to Devon, I feel many endings happening to me.

I have felt the hands, breathe, words and threats of punters fading away.

I have realise I am no longer alone, but have family, have great friends and have many who follow and care for me.

Moving away from city life, is giving time to know I am alive – not just going through the motions.

Every day I look into nature, every day the same but every day there are changes.

I watch crows nesting evenings and mornings.

I see or hear woodpeckers, hear creatures in hedges and trees.

Nature soothes out my past, as I live inside the present.

Devon is a healer.

I cure myself as I watch sunsets, as I walk by the river or the cannel.

I heal as Dartmoor is my landscape.

Devon give me time and space to allow trauma to run its course.

I can let in trauma without running away or fighting my Self.

All that has torture me, all the fear punters place in me, all that sense of nothingness can be known and truly felt.

For in Devon as nature, family and friends hold me – I can know that past and say it never my future.

 

To be the Living Dead

Halloween is almost here, so this post make a joke out of my hell.

Halloween is one my favourite celebrations, what with the facing and laughing at what horrified us.

A time to look into the dark and pour life into it.

But, but –

I write to the darkness, write to hell – write to becoming the living dead.

As a class, all the prostituted are made to be the living dead.

That is their role, that become their purpose – a living dead doll to be manipulated, control and throw away.

To be prostituted is know life is pointless, wanting a full humanity is waste of time.

To live as a zombie is the only route to some kind of existence.

A zombie can block out pain, can refuse grief, can live with no past or future.

All punters will paid to fuck the living dead – after all it is only his orgasm that matters.

All sex trade profiteers want to sell zombies – they are easy to control, there is no need to care about their welfare, and there always a constant supply.

To be the living dead is to be the essence of what it is to be prostituted.

To become a zombie is gradual, and on occasions is a sudden death in life.

Most of the prostituted are made to be zombie by a lifetime of multiple vulnerabilities.

That can abuse in childhood, living in poverty, living inside a porn-fuelled state, living with low self-esteem, being groomed by a peer groups and multiple ways to destroys our humanity.

It is rare that one vulnerability drives girls and women into prostitution, it is mostly a cocktail of vulnerabilities.

By the time a prostituted woman is being consumed on regular basis, she will be a zombie, and will survived by blocking that she had a past, that it those vulnerabilities that place under the punters.

She survived by saying she choose the zombie lifestyle, that it is liberating and alternative to be in that state.

To be a zombie is to be free, in control and of course the route to sexual independence.

This is repeated over and over and over – in a zombie slow talking tone – until all sense of life outside this zombie state disappear.

In that environment, the prostituted can only live in the now, moment from moment

I mean moments, coz to know and feel outside the moment, is to reach into fear, pain and grief – so better to block out as much as possible.

To know what is happening as you are consumed as a prostituted, is to driven into madness and route to suicide.

Blocking out reality is life-saving, but is one ingredient to making a zombie.

But, but to know the prostituted reality is the route to hell

To know every part of your body is made into sexual goods, no matter the pain that enters – is too much to bear.

To know punters are paying to rape without consequences, to torture without consequences, to murder without consequences – is too much to bear.

To live in a culture where women and girls disappear, where most of the prostituted have tortured or face death, where murders of the prostituted is so common it is not even reported – is too much to bear.

To survive and exit prostitution is to carry this genocide, remember too many disappearances, to understand what it is to be tortured – we the exited are witnesses to the unspeakable and unbearable.

So this Halloween, place us in your hearts.

Know that the living dead is no myth – the prostituted are all around you.

Rocket Science

I am an Abolitionist – but a major barrier to that dream is finding exiting schemes that fit the prostituted.

Until and when we discover how to make exiting long-term and truly a fit for everyone who has been in the sex trade – we will never build an Abolitionist movement that works.

Look, at how the Abolition has fail African-Americans by never building full human rights and dignity for their futures – we must learn from history.

I with many others will fight to build exiting as realistic and no longer a dream.

But how?

We need all ideas, all routes into the imagined futures and the ability to listen to realities of those who been inside the sex trade.

To build exiting we need to think with more expansion.

We must not stop at harm reduction or short-term counselling.

I find it interesting how often the sex work lobby support harm reduction – that should make all Abolitionists question whether it works.

To give out condoms, have short chats and then leave – it that not putting a band-aid on a cut throat.

Again, see history.

See how we patch up soldiers, stopping trauma enough to send back to the slaughter in WW1.

See how we did no long-term counselling for survivors of many genocides in the last century.

See all this – and see wounded people left with no hope, no justice and no route back to full humanity.

The coffee and condoms approach is leaving the prostituted in danger – and in the long run is turning a blind eye to their genocide.

Of course, it is important to reach out to those inside the sex trade – but do it with a purpose and reach out to everyone not just the chosen few.

The coffee and condom brigade usually only reach to street-based prostituted peoples.

This exclude the vast majority of those in brothels, those being sold online, those inside the porn industry, those frames girlfriend experience or escorting – in fact it exclude most street-based prostituted folks as well.

So it is a system that the sex trade can allow, knowing it will little or no impact on their profits.

I see the coffee and condom brigade as overseers working for the sex industry.

Yes, they appear to be fighting the oppression, but in fact many of these schemes are enabling the sex trade profiteers and protecting the punters.

To truly fight the sex trade, we must go root and branch – we must see the issue is to attack the buying and selling of the prostituted as a class, and not be distracted by the individual sad story.

This means we must see that it it mainly an issue of Male violence, Male oppression and the oppression of every person in every aspect of the sex trade.

We must see that most sex trade profiteers are males, and when it females it too often under male control.

We must see almost all that consumed the trade in all its forms are Male.

If we refuse to see those basic truths, we can never go forward with Abolition.

To not see this, is to betrayed all the prostituted and to keep them as sub-humans.

I would love your opinions, but I so exhausted with this struggle.

 

 

 

Divide and Rule

There is a constant undermining of the Abolitionist movement, and sadly it often by groups and individuals who claim to want an end to the sex trade.

Only this must done without rattling too many cages, without appearing too radical or revolutionary.

One way this done is by the old way of divide and rule – in this case saying how we could maybe say there could good and bad forms of prostitution.

In this viewpoint, there is constant search for punters who are not too bad, and always the refrain that it only a small minority of men who consumed the prostituted.

In this viewpoint, indoors prostitution can be made OK if it perceived as small and independent.

In this viewpoint, child prostitution is terrible, but adult prostitution is chosen and therefore good.

In this viewpoint, must horrific trafficking is external, and often it is thought that internal trafficking is a myth.

Hell, this just a few examples of the rubbish spoken and written in order to undermined the courage and determination of the Abolitionist movement.

There is nothing new here, it always the same with radical ideals especially when associated with abolition.

See how it was claimed that house slaves were happy unlike the field slaves.

Divide and rule is always used to distract – with abolition and its followers it is used to distract from seeing the structures that need to be destroyed.

If we are to destroy the sex trade, we must stopped being distracted and having internal fights.

If we look away from the prize, the sex trade can only gain and laugh at us.

I refuse to allow the sex trade to have that power – as exited woman, I refuse to ever be ground into nothingness by their lies and hate.

So, if you claimed to be an ally to exited women and true Abolitionists, then stop preaching the lies that undermined our existence.

Do not look for good punters – they do not exist.

Be clear thinking, and know that any man who makes the choice to buy another human for his sexual greed – can never be framed as a good man.

Do not think he is good because you like him, because you are related to him, because his role in life means it is impossible that he could a sadist.

Do not say it only a few men who are punters, but think harder.

Think that most prostituted women have many punters consuming, and the vast majority of these punters are not regular.

Most prostituted women who be in the sex trade for more than seven years, have had hundreds if not thousands of punters consuming them.

How does it make sense that it is only a few punters, and that the violence is rare?

God, if you really listen to Exited women – you would see, feel and know that is a terrible myth.

Do not look at indoors prostitution, especially independent escorting, independent brothels or SOOBs as the good side of the sex trade.

Stop imaging there is real independence in these small-scale forms of prostitution, or there can ever be a form of prostitution that can made liberating for the prostituted, and free from violence.

Please remember that to buy another human to create her into sexual goods – that is an act of violence in and of itself.

Most prostitution is paid rape, nothing more and nothing less – no matter how it is labelled or where it is placed.

The myth that is SOOBs is that prostitute can have real control and full access to safety.

That is impossible when the whole structure of prostitution is built on Male violence and the degradation of the prostituted.

In that environment, the prostituted have no basic human rights – and cannot turn away a violent punter if he is determined to get his money’s worth.

The prostituted are never in control, but on occasions punters give them that illusion.

I feel fury – so I end for now.

Please comment.

 

Screaming from My Stomach

My past lays deep in my centre, in my stomach.

The stomach is sick with grief and knowing the unspeakable.

I will write to that space, but know words and the order of language can reach the screaming.

So as I play the cheerful women of Motown, I will reach in deep – and with detachment make order from my chaos.

To speak from that scream, from that centre – I must make clear this a surface of what was to be prostituted.

How does language, especially the ordered English words speak to that Hell?

It cannot, but all I have here is words – I have my silent screaming, but somehow I want to testify and make that scream public.

I see this whole blog as a testimony, as the oppressed can lay down their truths in the hope that it will learnt from and be part of the foundations of real change.

I write as a witness.

As a witness, I cannot change my history, I cannot run away from trauma – but I can and will be a part of building bricks of abolishing the sex trade.

To make real change, we must read, hear and truly understand the testimonies of exited prostituted women.

To bring real change, it is vital to be real about what it is to be prostituted, be real about the lack of choice for all the prostituted.

To construct real change, we must reject the propaganda named as the sex work lobby.

So to start that journey – I want to speak to the unspeakable, speak to what it is to be prostituted.

Speak to my scream in my stomach.

First and of deep importance, I write to what to what it is to be the prostituted, this is about some similarities with other women, but also the differences and the depth of trauma in all the prostituted.

Yes, all women can be made vulnerable and run the risk of being recruited into the sex trade.

But it is not all women who become prostituted or trapped in the sex trade.

I write to how the sex trade uses every vulnerability that women live through to its advantage – whether that be childhood abuse, lack self-esteem, domestic violence, poverty, racism etc. – but also speak to the scale of male violence to the prostituted and how that is makes a difference.

I truly believe that all women have some or lots of experience of male violence – be that child abuse, stalking, rape, voyeurism, being objectify and so on – but it not framed as their purpose in life.

To be prostituted, is to made into an object with no access to humanity – whose purpose to to be consumed as sexual goods by and for men.

In that environment – the prostituted woman is unrapable, for she has no rights to safety, dignity or personal autonomy.

To be rape once is terrible – but in the world of prostitution rape is the norm.

Think about how we view male violence and compare how we view prostitution.

For most non-prostituted females being raped more three times in a lifetime is shocking – often there great compassion from the feminist movements for women in that situation.

Compare to reality of prostitution, where rape is by hundreds even thousands of men. The prostituted body is a battleground, but it reframed as nothing coz it just her chosen job.

This is the same with all form of male violence done to the prostituted – there is no outrage, no recording and no space to grieve – for it nothing happening here, for there is no human being violated.

This is made stark by the lack of recording or remembering by all feminist and leftist movements of the disappearances and murders of the prostituted.

There is a slow start to remembering women killed by domestic violence – but it is often framed as recording all women murdered by men.

I know and understand it can only be the recorded deaths – and it is the norm that deaths or disappearances of the prostituted is unrecorded.

But, for the prostituted to be part of the feminist movement could not at the minimum be said that the prostituted are the highest risk of being made to disappear or killed than any other group of women.

To be prostituted, is to have death as your norm.

It is normal for every exited women, to have known that other prostituted females they had loved may of been murdered or just vanished.

It is normal in all forms of prostitution, for punters to say they can kill you coz no-one gives a damn about a dead whore.

It is normal in all forms of prostitution, for punters to play at killing the prostitute – whether by choking with heads or deep-throating, whether by suffocating with pillow, whether just by torture till the body cannot bear any more.

All this is made nothing and reframed as chosen sex work.

I cannot write any more, but please wake up and listen to our testimonies.

It is the minimum you can do.

 

Whore Song

When I prostituted I murdered my love of song.

I refuse to listen to Motown, ignore Tops of the Pops, and was not my generation hiding in bed hearing John Peel.

The only music in prostitution was played to pretend it was some kind of love story.

Music was poison as it hid the pain, the fear and confusion.

Now, as a gift to my prostituted soul, music is every cell of my body.

I started by finding the music of empty years, the late 70’s and 80’s.

I play disco, mainly focus on Chic and Earth, Wind & Fire.

Disco drag me back into life, back to my rebel soul.

I love disco, for my punters and sex trade profiteers hated that it was just joy and freedom.

Disco was never played in sex clubs, never played by my punters – it was played by everyone they hated, so I loved it.

My background noise in my prostituted years was reggae, lover’s rock, soft soul, soft rock, and lift jazz.

Reggae became my rape music – even now with years between I cannot hear lover’s rock or soft non-political reggae.

Instead I turn to ska, just to confuse the punters to start with – then as two-tone educated me to 60’s ska , with a passion.

My love of ska open me up to Northern Soul, to rare and passionate street corner soul.

As I open up to soul, my childhood memories slowly re-enter my body. My happy memories of Motown.

I was opening up to who I was and who I really am.

I reclaim my passion and inquiring mind into American popular music from 1910’s to 1980’s.

I re-discover the Blues, jazz till 1956, gospel, soul, disco.

I re-discover honky-tonk, I found Cajun music, found Bluegrass and New Country.

I listen to pop of 60’s till 80’s with a open mind and heart.

I found Americana, listen to swing, found Duke Ellington and other classic big band.

I watch musicals from 30’s to early 60’s, with awe at Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly, with joy at the 40’s classics.

Music was and is my saviour.

In my heart I hold the words of Cole Porter, the Doors, words of rock ‘n’ roll and street corner soul.

In my heart is the pain of freedom songs, of gospel, of Marvin Gaye crying for a better world, of funk reclaiming justice.

In my heart is the simple joys of 40’s to 60’s girls groups, of comic musicals, of Tom Lehrer and other satire songs.

Music is used and abused by the sex trade.

Used to drown out that is founded on torture and destruction of the prostituted.

Used to pretend there is joy and freedom in the sex trade.

And used to say this is only entertainment, nothing is real.

That is why I learnt to hate music.

So getting back music is liberation.