My Heart-Felt Dreams

I could write with detachment, but grief is eating at my essence – and all that is left is to say is why I must dream hard.

I have no idea how I survived prostitution – all I know is by surviving, and the slow recovery of memory and seeing my truths – that I must write to part of the movement to free the prostituted class.

I have no choice but to say my truths – even as it forces horrific body memories into me; even as memory show the true hate and violence that countless punters and profiteers put into my mind and body; even as my writing makes me exhausted and sick.

I have no choice but to say my truths – for I cannot and will allow the lies and propaganda of those who support the sex trade to control all information about the prostituted class; for I speak with the million of prostituted women and girls still trapped inside the hell named prostitution, and with the many exited women living with extreme trauma; for I cannot be silent knowing every minute of every day prostitutes are being sexually tortured, raped, discarded, forced into hard-core porn and murdered.

I write for the vast majority of prostituted women and girls who have had hope and their very essence stolen from them. I write from a place of pain and grief – but I am always thankful that I have the inner strength to keep my voice , so many brilliant prostituted women and girls have had their voices stolen.

So I dream very hard.

I dream that the Nordic Approach becomes the normal way to start the road to abolition of prostitution.

I dream that men will one day wonder with horror and disgust, that in the past so many males thought it was their right to buy and sell the prostituted class. That it viewed as barbaric, as some stupidity of past male nature.

I dream that if we live in a world where prostitution was dead – that we learn from that time of callousness, we learn never to make any into a fuck-object – we learn never to say there must be a “need” for men to buy sex.

I dream we kick all the excuses to the curb.

Be it prostitution is a social service – think of all those ugly men, disabled men, men who cannot communicate with “real” women.

Be it that prostitution prevent rape to “real” women – so it is ok to sexually torture a prostitute.

Be it prostitution is ok if it made legal and put indoors – sure, no man would ever batter and rape a prostitute when shut in a room alone with her. Sure sex trade profiteers care so much about laws and are so respectful to their prostituted goods.

Be it prostitution is fine if the prostitute is over 18 – for there never hate and violence put onto adult prostitutes by punters and profiteers. or even if she may of enter prostitution under-aged, suddenly at 18 she is in total control of her life and will therefore be safe enough for society to turn its back on her.

I could go on, but these endless excuses, and pity-fests for the sex trade profiteers and punters, are in all my work.

I dream I can live in a world where those excuses are destroyed – making space for the voice of the prostituted class to be heard.

I have to dream – for anger, grief and pain need to dream that there must be some space in this planet for the prostituted – we cannot be discarded forever.

I must dream harder.

3 responses to “My Heart-Felt Dreams

  1. Beautiful post. Dreams and love are the spark for any revolution, stopping the buying and selling of women and girls is indeed a revolution xox


  2. Pingback: Au nom de qui ? Au nom du rêve de Rebecca (Mott) « A dire d'elles

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