Written To Those Who Are Gone

I write this blog, always aware that it was pure chance that I am here.

The sex trade works on the assumption that most of its sexual goods will be made to disappear.

Disappear into such deep trauma, that their voices are silenced.

Disappear in to being voiceless and without a past, as so many of survivors of prostitution cannot know what they had to endured.

Disappear into death – whether suicide, too ill to live, or murder – and having their deaths made into nothing.

I write for the voiceless prostituted, I write to state over and over that every single prostituted person matters – none can be made nothing.

I write to the void the sex trade wants to make.

That is why I write in blood, that is why I write in tears, that is why I cannot stop my writing.

I know it was luck that I was not forgotten, pure luck that I lived.

My words are gravestones to all who did not have that luck.

I do not just write for the dead I knew of, or those dead from my culture or my time.

I write to the ghosts of the prostituted of all countries, all cultures going over at least 3000 years.

For the sex trade has allowed men to murder the prostituted for several centuries in almost every country in the world.

The sex trade has been careless of the living conditions, spread of sexual diseases, the mental welfare of the prostituted – in all those countries over several centuries.

For there is no place or time, when prostitution becomes the norm, where the prostituted are not made sub-human and to been thrown away.

So it is normal for the prostituted to not survive beyond the age of 27, it is normal that society makes the choice to ignore the bodies of the prostituted piling up.

Today, we only notice the deaths of the prostituted if it caused by a serial killer or connected to men who are well-known.

It is ignored how of the prostituted are pushed into suicide – whether through the constant sexual/physical/mental violence done to them, or though being made isolated from support or ways to exit.

It is ignored when the prostituted die from diseases that punters force into them.

It is ignored as most murders of the prostituted as done by individual punters or sex trade profiteers one at time.

It not just serial murderers who kill the prostituted, it not just mentally sick punters that murder the prostituted.

No, the vast majority of men who make the choice to murder the prostituted are very ordinary men.

They are young/middle-aged/old men, they are rich/poor men, they are men from all cultures/countries.

The only thing these murderers have in common is their sense of entitlement, and that they see the prostituted as disposable goods.

The killing of the prostituted takes many forms – being thrown out of a car or from a window, being given a drug overdose, from sadist sexual practices, drowning, strangling, beaten to death, shot, and on and on and on.

Punters and sex trade profiteers will never run out of ways of murdering the prostituted – for society turns a blind eye, giving them full permission.

I was nearly killed many times, and know it was nothing.

I was raped so violently that I stopped breathing for a few moments.

I was often choked, or had my head forced into water.

I was nearly by gang-rapes.

I tried several times to kill myself.

I tried walking into the sea.

I wanted to throw myself under a train.

I took several overdoses.

I drunk to die.

I do not know how I stayed alive – only that I did.

I had no reason to live – the sex trade destroy any hope or idea that I had a future.

So, when I write to the prostituted who did not survive – I do it with empathy and a sense of survivor guilt.

They were as strong as I was, they were determined to live whilst trying to die as I was, they deserve a future as much as I did.

So read this blog, and never forget the voiceless who I write for.

4 responses to “Written To Those Who Are Gone

  1. Thank you. There aren’t words, but thank you for writing this. I know I’m one of so few, far too few, that survived. I don’t understand why I did, but I’m not gonna forget the sisters I lost in the process.


  2. Every word. Truth. Truth beyond words. Truth beyond measure. Truth beyond comprehension. Truth of the suffering. Truth of the dead.

    Would I wish this truth upon men? Yes I would. I would visit pain upon them that would be so horrific that they would either stop or die. If that’s what it would take for men to stop; I would surely wish it upon them. ALL of them.

    And the’s ones who do not buy and enslave women are no more important than prostituted women; they are no more innocent and undeserving of women and children; why should they be spared? You weren’t. You and the millions upon millions of women and children were not immune. You did nothing to deserve this. They did nothing to deserve it but they can stop it.

    Men, even the ‘good’ ones, should also be the ones who suffer the fate of the prostituted because even they fundamentally lack empathy. Why do they lack this common form of human compassion? I don’t know; perhaps simply because of other men. Nothing complicated; they simply don’t care.

    That is why I would wish the torture, suffering and death for all men for the simple curiosity as to whether or not they are capable of that fundamental human emotion; empathy. I honestly do not know the answer; but I suspect that even if they were to suffer the these horrors they still would have no compassion for anyone. but themselves. Look at their wars. They kill and maim one another with impunity and STILL they have no compassion. They feel sorry for themselves but they care nothing of the lives they’ve taken or the pain they’ve caused.

    Yes, I would wish the horrors you’ve endured on my worst enemy; men. In a heartbeat. Do men without compassion deserve to live. No. Truth. Because one of you is worth a million of them. A million men, good men, could end this, but they do not, they do not care.

    I am sorry beyond words for what you have endured; that you have survived or that you were murdered; that perhaps you’ll never recover; perhaps never feel joy. Yes, men, ALL men should endure what you’ve endured; otherwise they will not stop.


  3. The strength that is in the spirit of the voice with which you write- that is how you have survived. Your voice is heard. May it amplify!! There are others joining your choir. Please, check out the amazing paintings of survivor Suzzan Blac!


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