Nothing But a Heartbreaker

I have been inside grief for most of this year, and I do not see it coming to an easy end.

I know in my heart that grief is good.

Grief is the beginning of becoming fully human; grief is knowing the pain and confusion and not blocking it out; and grief is a re-learning how to breathe without fear.

I know it is good, but I also know it is unbearable when the grief comes from the place of being prostituted.

For there are so many losses and empty spaces that cannot be repaired or replaced – all that can be done is to face what is missing and acknowledge it was not your fault.

To be prostituted, is too often to survive by putting all the blame onto yourself – to not see, know or be in an environment where all your power and control was eroded away.

Eroded is a soft word for the extreme hate and violence that rip away all human rights, all sense of self and all memory of another way to live from the prostituted.

How does any human survive knowing her humanity and being is ripped out of her – just so some men can make a profit from selling her to other men as sexual goods.

That is unbearable, that is outside how we are taught humans treat other humans, that has to made to not exist.

To know the plain truth of prostitution is too unbearable for the prostituted to live with and to keep going.

It must not be known that she is not human – but holes and hands for any punter to manipulate.

It must not be known that all punters pre-planned what porn violence they do to the prostituted, and she has no power or control to stop him, just the hope he decide to be quick or relatively non-sadist.

It must not be known that punters are very ordinary men who no-one noticed or think has violence inside them.

It must not be thought that as a prostitute you lose all access to the language of no, and money destroy your right to know what consent is.

It must not be thought the prostitute should not fight back in case it just leads to more violence, or sex trade profiteers “punishing” her by putting into more dangerous situations.

It must be acknowledged that to be a prostitute is be in the line of death – whether because your body is so worn out it cannot keep going; whether you just commit suicide for there can no other end; or whether you are murdered and thrown away, not even with your death recorded.

None of this can be known, thought about or acknowledged when inside the world of the sex trade.

It the exposure of those silences and voids that is a huge part of the grief of being an exited woman.

There is the grief that all that sadism, all that pure horror and all that destruction was made invisible.

What break the heart is that all that violence and hate is made normal, made acceptable and made just the way of the world.

Would you make mass rapes invisible if it is called a war crime?

Do you accept sexual torturing when done to political prisoners?

Is it acceptable to rape children in a family or gang-rape teenage girls just to fit in?

Yes, these go on – but they are acknowledged and made visible. Most are viewed as an outrage.

But all those are the norm for the prostituted, and it is made it is of no importance – worse it is made the prostitute role to receive all sexual violence in order to prevent “real” women and girls being attacked.

To be a prostitute, is to have no space for grief, no space to know shock, no place to feel her injuries or trauma – the prostitute’s existence must be to be as empty as possible.

A prostitute is made unrapeable, is made to manipulated by porn-fueled hate – she is remove from being human to all punters and sex trade profiteers.

The prostitute is made by men as their vessel to be filled with sadism, fury, male shame and their sense off weakness.

They poke, rip, bit, rage, hit, smash at and into, penetrate and utterly control the prostitute – then walk away, back to real women and girls, as if nothing of any importance has happened.

Well, in the male view nothing has happened, when a prostitute is put into the line of danger, it is fine – for no human was involved.

That is the reality of prostitution – that is what most outside the sex trade refuse to see, know or acknowledge – that prostitution exists because societies have always allowed the punters and sex trade to make a whole class framed as the prostituted class to be sub-humans.

Your turning away is allowing that all the prostituted are made into goods.

As goods, they have no right to feel pain, no right to safety, no access to grief, and certainly no right to complain.

You must take the responsibility for allowing men to destroy the prostituted class.

I suppose I begun with waiting to explore my grief, and have inside rage.

But grief and fury are interconnected – especially when the prostituted class have no access to true justice and full humanity.

2 responses to “Nothing But a Heartbreaker

  1. this is so powerful… i hear and feel this rage, this grief and this horror at the inhumanity of so many, and the complicity of everyone else. speechless. devastating. wrong. and i pray for you and all the other prostituted women and children in the world that this stops and that somehow that horror can get out of you, it doesn’t belong inside you, it is NOT yours, it is NOT you… its not your fault.


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