SOS

I have been seeing some support around trolls writing mental violence to many radical feminists, or even women who just speak their mind.

It is horrific that there is such silencing of women, but it is wonderful that it has got good women and a few men to give support and plan actions.

There is a sisterhood for many women attacked on the net – but is that sisterhood willing to reach out to exited women when they are under constant attack.

Sadly, it appears highly unlikely, or only there if it is easy or about signing petitions or clicking “like”.

There is little or no rallying round when violence and hate to exited women becomes all too real.

Where is the sisterhood when it comes to standing to pimp/punter- thinking?

Where is the sisterhood when exited women speaks out about physical attacks from the sex trade lobby?

And would the sisterhood honoured our deaths if the sex trade did make us disappear or commit suicide or just murder us in a casual way?

I know many of you reading this, will be saying to yourself “I would never abandoned exited women”.

But please tell what you do of practical help when exited women are persecuted by the sex trade lobby.

This is an SOS, for this is beyond an emergency.

This is a time for action not clicking like, not just reading our words, not just signing petitions.

It is a time to be uncomfortable and fully face the reality of being an exited woman.

I have very lucky, for I have escaped almost entirely connections with the punters and profiteers who used.

This luck gives me the privilege to see the constant attacks on my exited Sisters with a degree of detachment, and deep heartache.

I am lucky that the vast majority of attacks done to me on a “personal” level, are done by parts of the sex trade lobby that will not bother to track me down in person, just send generalised hate through the net.

I am lucky I do not feel under physical threat – but for the seven years that I have been open about being exited and an abolitionist, the mental violence is background noise.

I know this mental violence is not done by trolls who never seemed to leave their computer seats – it is highly organised by the sex trade lobby.

This means it will be relentless, seeing as it has endless funds and many willing people to do their dirty work.

This is not just about silencing exited women, it is much more sinister than that.

It is about annihilating all the prostituted, and making sure there is no record of our protest.

This has always been how the sex trade lobby has dealt with exited women who become abolitionists.

There is a long and brave history of exited women attempting to speak truth to power – it is more than likely as long as women have been enslaved in the sex trade.

But the history of prostitution is re-written by the sex trade lobby every generation. The voices of all those brave exited women is throw into the trash.

But each and every exited carries that history of rebellion forward, we refused to be silenced despite knowing the force of our enemy.

We know their weapons – we know they think nothing of torturing us back into submission, we know they make gas-lighting into an art form, we know they would rape back into being sub-human, and we know they would kill us without any conscious.

But we still stand tall – so where is our support or actions to protect us?

I know that many of my exited Sisters live the fear and background noise of pimps and punters knowing where they live, where their children or other loved one are – or are trying to track down information to stalk them.

This is no computer threat, through the knowledge is gained through the computer – this is simple physical threat, threat of real crime, threat that all about making us sub-human.

Sometimes, the threat is just keep on the mental level, by constant stalking or sending hate through the computer.

But the reality of physical attacks, or forcing us back into the sex trade, is always a reality.

Many amazing exited women have been so terrified and persecuted that they have stop writing, stop speaking out, left all social networks and go back to isolation.

These are women who voices are powerful and needed for abolition to go forward.

I want more anger at the war against exited women – for otherwise is can appear that we are not fully human, so we should stop moaning and just cope with it.

 

The Clouds are Clearing

I am proud to say that by facing my trauma, it has cleared for the while.

I have always found that confronting my past works for me – though that is personal, and I would not suggest it for anyone else.

But I have the soul of a stubborn warrior who need to understand and confront pain.

I see my hidden essence like the Samurai in classic Japanese films, only willing to fight when pushed to their limit and only fight against forces of hate and sadism.

To be a true warrior, is to mainly walk away from violence especially violence that from a place of deep fear or inability to find justice.

To be a true warrior, is know what battles to fight – know many battles may be lost or bring about deep despair, but always to keep your eyes on the prize.

To be an abolitionist against the sex trade, that warrior is needed.

For to bring about abolition, great patience is needed whilst at the same time being willing to be ready for sudden action.

Another part of being a warrior is learning to able to be still enough to know deep grief, and see the reasons you have no choice but to fight.

A true warrior comes to the battle after the reality of pain, seeing unspeakable actions, knowing a sorrow that may not be repairable.

Part of the warrior spirit is to sat in stunned silence knowing how evil humans can be to other humans.

A true warrior is able to be racked with grief.

A true warrior can feel no hope, but somehow has the strength to keep going forward.

To be a true warrior is choose the hard path over the easy road.

To be a true is know how isolated you have been and will be – but also have the courage to seek out other warriors.

For no end of the sex trade, can be done by one woman – we must build an army of warriors who know grief and pain, but never let that stop the fight.

Each and every warrior in this war, carries the lives of those still embedded in the sex trade, we carry the many deaths and disappearances of the prostituted class.

We hold each and every person inside the sex trade as heroes, we remembered those we have lost with honour and deep respect.

Each warrior in the movement fight to end the hate, sadism and destruction of the prostituted’s humanity that are the foundations of every aspect of the sex trade.

We will never leave any prostitute to suffer – even one prostitute being raped or torture is one too many.

This is a war where our enemy see the prostituted as sub-humans.

How is possible to have respect for an enemy that viewed the prostituted class as throwaway sexual goods, has made it out that prostituted deserve no human rights – an enemy that create an invisible genocide by replacing the goods.

The sex trade, punters and supporters of the existence of the sex trade have created a world where millions of the prostituted are living in conditions of torture, living under the constant threat of violent death – and frame this as adult (male) entertainment.

Our suffering is just one huge joke to our enemy

So we must fight even if only to silence that laughter.

Crashing Back to Life

I have going through, crashing through trauma for quite some time now.

Each day I wake with my body shaking, my mind full of despair – but all the time there is a deep desire to force my way forward.

This is not depression, I have no wish to fall away – this is deep trauma, and is just a natural reaction to the poison put into me by punters, people’s ignorance of what it is and was to be prostituted, the sex trade profiteers and the utter lack of any justice for the prostituted.

Trauma is not a mental illness, it is a healthy reaction to extreme abuse/torture and having no justice.

No-one is born into trauma, trauma is forced into us by terrible events that can be natural, by man-made disasters, by man-made wars, and by man-made violence.

It is thought that the prostituted have some the higher rates of trauma, higher than soldiers in the front-line, higher than domestic violence, and higher than most rape survivors.

I always wonder why that is news, or even a surprise – could it be by not looking at the conditions of the prostituted, then it become easier to ignore our trauma?

For I see understanding and empathy for many women and girls on the receiving end of male violence – but a constant turning away from the prostituted.

I see understanding and political action for men and women who are tortured by a State – but a refusal to acknowledge that prostitution is a form of torture.

Could it be that the prostituted are still considered to non-humans, so cannot have real trauma? – if not, I cannot see another logical reason that our trauma is made invisible.

I need to know why rape is considered to worse than death when done to the non-prostituted, but rape to the prostituted is made into a non-crime?

I need to why torture is horrific when done to a political prisoner, but the exact same torture plus rape is just leisure or entertainment when done to women inside the sex trade?

I need to know why chicken in battery farms get more sympathy and passionate anger than women in crowded brothels or the horrific conditions of the porn industry?

I do not expect answers, maybe just the endless cliché reasons or turning away, the usual justifications that do nothing to end the pain of no justice or even being considered fully human.

That is the surface reason that all the prostituted live with trauma – knowing our right to be human is still a long way off.

I know and understand what it is to be raped outside of prostitution.

I know and understand it can and will feel as if you have been stripped of your humanity – but most victims of rape regain their right to be considered to be human, many never truly lose it.

This is because many rape victims are believed by friends and those who campaign to end rape.

Rape is seen as a crime – it is rarely punished – but it is considered a terrible event.

Strangely, the more a woman or girl is raped the less she is believed, and the less human she is seen.

Maybe that is some answer to why raping the prostituted is made to be nothing.

For most of the prostituted are raped by hundreds if not thousands of punters – we are raped beyond statistics, beyond remembering the men’s faces, beyond the body ability to hold pain.

But our rapes are non-existent, it becomes just who we are.

We cannot be raped for we are sex-crazed, we force men to use us as sex-dolls.

We cannot know rape for we do not feel pain like real women, we have no sense of shame that real rape victims have.

It cannot be rape if we took the money or gifts, it is not rape if we go on to another punter after.

These are a few of the millions of reasons given for ignoring the constant raping of the prostituted – reasons used as a silencing tool.

No wonder the prostituted are drowning in trauma.

Please be more radical about listening to the prostituted.

Hear their trauma and stop turning away.

Speak to That Pain

It is the middle of the night, and I am listening to Northern Soul, and trying to ignore trauma.

I could say I feel low, depressed, restless, unable to sleep – but that is just the surface.

No, trauma is a rat gnawing at my will to go forward.

Trauma is the laying in bed and sleeping, only to wake physically wrecked.

Trauma is running on a hamster wheel on and on and on.

I thought maybe writing may help.

May help my body to know satisfying rest.

May make the rat saying I just a failed experiment, what is the point of my work, my wanting to have a future, my reaching for some friends or community.

I thought if I wrote, with Northern Soul hitting my heart, I would speak to this pain and not run away.

So, this post is an experiment, a flow of consciousness.

A reaching into what trauma means to me as an exited woman.

I write to that pain, to get you readers to know why you must keep fighting to free the prostituted.

Know a small part of our pain, and that may armed you for the long fight for abolition.

I write to my trauma, for I want my readers to know why there can be no half-measures about our freedom.

Harm reduction is not good enough – for that is just to patch up the prostituted then send them back to torture.

Reform is only worth if it, if the long-term goal is full abolition of the sex trade.

Each and every moment, the prostituted class are being murdered, being raped on an industrial scale, being torture in all known methods – so it is too late for half-measure.

I speak from a place of multiple rapes, gang-rapes, mental/physical/sexual torture, and knowing it is to be made nothing.

That is the place of trauma that I have to hold each and every day.

I have learned to close all visual memory – the sights I have known and lived through, I have no interest in replaying as pictures again.

But I may see nothing – but every cell in my body carries the sickness and hate that put into by punters.

I had no ownership of my body.

How can I own the holes in my body as fists, penises, objects rammed each and every one?

How can I own my own voice when it stuffed with penises till it lost all hope?

How do I own my own sexuality when so hate, so much pain and so much death was associated with forced orgasms?

Trauma for the prostituted is full of gaps and silences.

The gaps of stolen memory, lost time, lack of hold of what happened.

How can I remember how many punters raped me – when numbers only become a blur?

I know I counted to 300, but that was a very small number of what destroyed me. I know I can never how many men raped me, only that rape was so normal that I could know it was rape.

How can I record the locations I was tortured in?

Only know many rooms become the same, that being fucked against walls and in subways was not strange, that I still do not like posh hotel rooms.

I have learnt to accept that I will many holes in my memory – I can grieve that lost, feel fury at the hate and violence that made my mind erase so much of my life.

These holes are a major spur for me to be an abolitionist. For I no more of the prostituted to have to live with having to block out their realities.

This post is relatively short, but I hope it a rallying cry.

Remember to place the voices of the prostituted to the front – and hear their trauma, don’t run from it.

 

 

Wish I Did Not Know

Surviving prostitution is horrible.

I know we are strong, we have empathy, we can be the bravest people I know – but to all my fellow exited friends and colleagues, we live with knowing what we would rather not know.

We know and understand male sexual violence.

We know and understand what it is to be made sub-human.

We know and understand what torture is and how the human being somehow survives torture beyond knowledge.

We are carriers of deep knowledge – heck, we are a resource.

But I and most of my survivors friends would love to turn back time, and to be ignorant.

You live five minutes with even a small part of our knowledge, and tell me you would not turn back time.

I would imagine I never went down the path I did – I imagine the normal upper-middle class background I was born into.

I imagine a world where I had a mother who loved me, or at least put my safety and welfare as a major purpose.

Not the world of knowing I was nothing to my mum – knowing she saw me as an inconvenient, as born evil, as a blockade to her progress.

I imagine a world where my stepdad never meet my mother, a world where he was not even a thought in our family.

Not the world where his wants and needs were more important than my safety.

Not the world where he could randomly abuse me when his whim took him – and always my mother told me how I provoke him.

I had pushed him too far.

I would eat down my hate, my sense of no justice, my fury that wanted burn down my home.

I would imagine a world where I had no knowledge of prostitution, no idea that sex could be nothing, no connection of pain with that sex.

Not the world that I knew from too young.

The world of my six-year-old who run away from school into King’s Cross and Soho, surrounded by noises of women and girl’s desperation, by noises of men wanting to buy me – the child is cheap and ignorant.

The child can be molded into being a sub-human, and it will be no big deal.

The world of my seven-year-old – where she is stood still in Soho, acting tough, acting beyond her age.

She is street-wise, but knows nothing.

She is walking prey.

The world of my nine-year-old – who begun to make death her best friend, and knew suicide was some answer.

I don’t want to know how much my childhood was stolen even before I was 14 and enter the sex trade.

Now, I see the age 14, and see how bloody young that is – but then I thought I was all grown, that I could be hurt or know pain more than I did then.

I like so many survivors of prostitution, was used to abuse but still a child who naive of what torture was and how bad it could get.

Thank god, we were naive for how would still be alive if we had known what we were entering.

For we were entering hell, but like all hells on earth, it was hidden in plain sight.

I cannot write to prostitution without stating that all that I speak to is just common practice in all aspects of prostitution.

I must state that the vast majority of violence done to the prostituted is done in legal, semi-legal setting.

There is no such thing as underground prostitution, for all prostitution is easy for punters to find and consume.

Prostitution is never about sex and relationship – it always about money, power and male entitlement.

So it never hidden to men – those who do not see the violence and hate that is prostitution, have made a conscious decision to turn away

I will see my prostitution, knowing I connect to all the prostituted class. Now I can rise up and find I was never alone, only completely isolated.

So I speak to my prostituted self – speak words of comfort, words of revolution, words letting her know at last she is someone who can be respected.

Speaking to my prostituted self – I hope is part of building a world where all prostitution has vanished.

A world where all the prostituted class can stand tall.

But to build a future, we must grieve and know our pasts.

I will speak to the heart of my prostituted self – to my silent screaming, to that place where body memories come from,

I try by writing over and over and over, to ease my prostituted self – but without full justice, and a sense that the prostituted are respected – her pain seems endless.

I write to my reality of indoors prostitution, a world with no Julia Roberts, no Richard Geres – just desperation, pain and wanting to forget.

I write to each room with a bed where I was raped, tortured and put myself on the ceiling.

I write to not knowing pain – but seeing blood, seeing bruises, and being unable to walk or eat.

I write to not knowing the men – not looking at their faces, not hearing when they spoke, not breathing in their clothes or alcohol breathe.

I write to being in the of being gang-raped – with that sense of having skin, of my guts being pulled out, of hounds of men panting all over me – but finding not only was I still alive, but being gang-raped was quite common.

No wonder I don’t want to know my own truths.

But to understand and to end prostitution, we must know what is done to the prostituted, and name it as torture, as a human rights emergency.

We must allow all those exited folks strong enough to speak to that reality to be published, to be leaders at all speaking events about abolition, and to listen to your exited friends without asking them to censor their truths.

Abolition is a revolution – so don’t dilute it by censoring the truths of survivors of the sex trade.

 

Fractured Memory

I have many gaps in my memory.

This hurts and wounds me in many ways – I feel I am missing too much of my life. I have lost the years between 6 to 27.

It is not fully lost, just in so many fragments I cannot find how to fit them together.

I am a neglected jigsaw with pieces gone.

I want to cry, but I have forgotten how.

I want to scream – but that voice is lost in a past that is shattered.

I want to know my truths – but only touch small edges.

I understand with logic, why my memory is so damaged.

I understand the mind can only take in so much reality of torture, then it cannot hold any more.

I understand that most of prostitution is repeated violence – repeated ways of raping, repeated ways of mentally/physically/sexually torturing, repeated ways of breaking down the prostitute.

I understand that repetition cannot be remembered fully – only remembered until it is discovered that all the prostituted are not to blame, and the violence done to them was pre-planned.

I understand that to survive the hell that is prostitution, it is vital to close it down or to replace the violence with inventions of empowerment and having a good time.

All this and more, I understand with a clear logical mind – but it does nothing to end the grief of lost memory.

In this post, I will try an explore memory – maybe speaking to moments/hours/weeks/years.

May I say that I was prostituted between 14 to 27, and previously sexually and mentally abused at home from aged 6.

Those years are just moments to me – for my fractured memory has made the good times disappear as well as the abuse and violence.

I remember standout moments – but with the years of prostitution I cannot see my age, cannot see the exact location, and usually cannot fully the men abusing me.

I remember through pain throughout my body, I remember through sudden terror, I remember and try not to doubt myself.

I remember as I choking without cause, I remember as I try to sleep but feel bodies raping me again, I remember when I try to love my partner and my mind wants violence.

I know memory is trapped inside my body, it trying with desperation to connect to the mind.

My instinct is to disconnect from my body as much as possible – I fall into music, reading, eating, TV and so forth to be away from my body.

Heck, now I have Twitter and Facebook, I can run away even more.

But my body pushing memory into me, even as I choose to run away.

The more I run, the worse the pain and grief gets – so I know I must turn round and confront a past that refuses to be silent.

It is a past made up of rooms.

Rooms in hotels, rooms in flats, rooms above clubs, rooms behind pubs.

Rooms where all I remember seemed the same, though it was different times and many locations.

Rooms where all I saw was the bed, maybe a place for money, maybe see a way to a bathroom.

I cannot remember how many rooms, only know I was a robot just seeing any bed – I knew what I was, and could not imagine a world where I was not a whore.

It was a past made up of punters.

A past where I did not know sex could be done with care, done with love, done without pain.

A past where men enter every part of my body – wearing down all memory that I had ever been human.

A past where consent meant nothing – as I was brought and sold, where could my no have any meaning.

A past where one could keep me as his sexual slave for weeks, a past where gang-rape was normal, a past where torture was rehearsed on my body.

For torture is always rehearsed on the prostituted – we are just living porn to punters.

So it is impossible to fully remember the past.

But I remember enough to know I did nothing to be in the line of such hate and violence.

I remember enough to know all punters will torture the prostituted – even if just mentally or by refusing to see the prostituted as fully human.

I remember enough to know violence is the norm of all aspects of the sex trade.

I remember to know I am only alive by luck.

I remember to be an abolitionist.

Not a New Year Person

I do not like the tradition of New Year.

Too much pressure to change, but not real long-term change, just say the resolutions and forget all them by January the 5th.

Too much pressure to be drunk, to fake happiness, or be a boring party pooper.

I am happy going to an Italian restaurant for posh lunch, then watching Jools Holland with fizzy white wine, oh maybe not knowing it is 2015, coz too gripped in a film or asleep.

I do not make resolutions, for they just blowing soap bubbles in the air – rather I stand by all my desires year-round for abolition and ideas to make it solid.

I want if you do make resolutions round abolition or the human rights of the prostituted class – that it not just some drunken wish, or a nine-day wonder.

I want to promises you know you will break, certainly do not say these to those of us who have exited the sex trade, until you have solid practical evidence that you back your freedom.

I look back over many years of writing this blog, and speaking out as an exited woman – and see a road full of broken promises, of betrayal and of silencing.

The most important is the breaking of the promise by the Left and by feminism, to place the multiple voices of the exited in a leadership role in the abolition movement.

There has been a dismissal of the largest survivor movement – that is Sex Trafficking Survivors United – that has over 1oo members and is international.

There are many strong campaigners in this group, mainly women who are experts in knowing the conditions and motives of the sex trade profiteers and consumers.

Many are great writers, many are skilled at public speaking.

We come from many backgrounds – middle-class white women, indigenous women, from poverty.

We have known most aspects of the sex trade – being filmed for porn, brothels, street prostitution, being boyfriend material, escorting, stripping, being locked away etc etc.

Most of the member of STSU were moved around many aspects of the sex trade – forcing them to lose hope, lose their voices, lose any connections with those who care about them.

We have been regularly tortured – sexual torturing, physical beatings, mental torture and the torture of losing of what it is to be fully human.

But STSU is constantly silenced, or having our words stolen and used to bring other some creed without the respect of saying it a survivor’s work.

I can understand why it is important to silence STSU – for our truths will tear down the lies and illusions that keeps the sex trade – what is cutting me to the heart, is how many so-called allies are a big part of this silencing.

This is a betrayal – and it makes it very hard for the exited to fully trust our allies.

We expect most anti-trafficking groups to betray us, we may know the majority of Leftist men are not interested in the human rights of the prostituted – all of those folks want to keep the status quo of the sex trade, with a wee pieces of tinkering at the edges.

Anti-trafficking groups.creates myths and lies to keep this status quo.

They claim that it is easy to divide trafficking from chosen prostitution – this makes no difference to the male violence that is the norm in all forms of prostitution.

Punters don’t care about the prostituted back-story, all he care about is his entitlement and getting his money worth.

Most anti-trafficking groups keep the focus on under-aged prostituted, and ignore the adults who are prostituted.

They ignore that most of the adults may of enter the sex trade when they are under-aged, that most by aged 18 have experienced multiply rapes, have known mental, physical and mental torture, have lived with death-threats.

No, they ignore that trauma and see the adult prostitute as somehow empowered and it must her free choice.

How bloody convenient to disconnect the child from the women – and say it now ok coz now she is so sub-human she is now unrapeable.

Trafficking is now only recognised if it is international, and involves extreme violence against the prostituted.

This excludes looking into conditions in most brothels or escorting, excludes seeing internal trafficking especially using loverboy tactics, excludes looking at buying brides especially by men in the Western countries.

It excludes the vast majority of ways that the prostituted are recruited or tricked into the sex trade.

To the cynical, it may appear that too many sex trafficking groups are pushing for adult prostitution to be pushed indoors – and all the male violence made invisible to the public gaze.

What really put a hole in my heart is how many feminists push away or even steal the words and ideas of those of us who have exited the sex trade.

Of course, it is fine to used our works if you ask and are willing to acknowledge why it was written and who wrote it.

We need the language of abolition to spread far and wide – but to silenced of the exited is a betrayal.

Let me state me clearly – many exited women are deeply hurt and want to hide away because this dismissal or desire to control how we speak out.

Just because many exited women may be hiding, does not means they have stop fighting for human rights and dignity for all the prostituted – just we may not want our voices to be public in case it is destroyed.

I thought 2014 would be the start of respect for exited women in feminism – I was wrong.

I did not want to know that some feminists need to keep the prostituted in a box, which only opened with their control and briefly.

The prostituted are not human enough to be women enough to have an authentic voice in feminism – just have their multiples voices translated till it fit stereotypes that can be made feminist.

It is rare that exited women are allowed to speak at feminists meetings, and often it is controlled by having just one survivor of the sex trade on a panel with experts to stop it being too emotive.

I want to speak on a panel of just exited women, with the chair being an exited woman too.

That would part of a revolution I would proud to belong to.

So if you truly an abolitionist – make 2015 the year we begin to make exited women have a loud and clear voice/s.