Monthly Archives: September 2008

Quick Catch-Up

Posted on by rmott62

I want to thank all my loyal readers for their patient with me when I have been remembering the reality of my years in prostitution. It has very scary and hard, but I know it is making me stronger.

Seeing my past has given words to name it. Seeing my past has made my rage targeted.

I am not just seeing my past, I am knowing it.

I see my past, and understand without condemning myself, understand why I remember through fragmented memory. I am proud that my mind will remember and tries to keep me safe.

I see that my experiences were common. It was torture, but torture is the “work hazard” for the majority of prostituted women and girls.

I cannot say “rape”, for rape is viewed as not happening that often. Rape may give the woman or girl time and space for trauma close to the event.

Instead I say torture for I can identify with that. With torture it is a constant without a hope that it could end.

To survive torture, your mind and essence must be closed down.

To survive it can be important to forget that you are human, or to hide that humanity from those that choose to tortured you.

To survive you cannot know what is happening. You cannot allow pain into the body. You cannot know that the torturers have pre-planned your degradation and pain.

You cannot see and know that they enjoy their power, and that is the true reason for the torturing.

So it almost impossible to name what happened to prostituted women and girls as rape in the common usage of the word.

I see my past and viewed the torture of prostituted women and girls as an abuse of their human rights. Not just individual men being nasty to individual prostituted women and girls.

Men who buy sex all are paying for a system that said there is a whole class of women and girls that are “hard-wired” to enjoy/accept any fantasy the man has.

A class of women and girls that can do sadistic sex, don’t mind being beaten up, that will do sex acts like porn stars, will not mind life and death games.

These women are viewed as unrapable, women whose nature makes them accept violence, will accept degradation.

But who is saying these words.

It is mainly said by men who feel entitled to buy and sell women and girls. It said by those who want to prove the sex trade is harmless. It is said by the few privileged “sex workers” wanting to disassociated themselves from “victim” prostituted women and girls.

But is not said by the majority of prostituted women and girls.

They know that most of the sex they do is not wanted in an equal consenting relationship.

If it is so great, why do most prostituted women and girls shut out the sex, shut out any physical violence, shut the verbal abuse.

If it is so great, why do most prostituted women and girls perform sex and other aspects that men think makes a real prostitutes. It is important when prostituted to try to be one step ahead of men’s fantasies, so to decrease their violence.

If it so great, why do most prostituted women and girls who exit have severe PTSD. Often worst than soldiers or survivors of disasters.

If it is so great, why do most prostituted women and girls whether in or out of the sex trade, feel they cannot be open about such an important part of their lives.

If it is so great, why does the sex trade recruit for prostitutes amongst girls who are often already “damaged goods” through child abuse. Recruit amongst poor women. Recruit by lying that there will not be violence.

If it is so great, why does the sex trade feel the need to keep the majority of prostituted women and girls closed off from the world outside of prostitution.

There is so much more that places prostitution as a human rights issue.

But it is a lot easier to say it is a weakness or the nature of the individual woman or girl. That she choose that lifestyle, so should be woman enough to accept the consequences.

To think it is a human rights, would mean thinking seriously about making radical changes. Including in the long run talking seriously of abolishing the sex trade.

To end, I am proud to say that I wrote a comment on Women’s Space, and it was considered strong enough to made into a post. It is “Rebecca Mott: Prostitution Is a Human Rights Issue! Stop the Torture of a Whole Class of Women and Girls”. 29.9.08.

Paul Newman, RIP

Posted on by rmott62

I am saddened to hear that Paul Newman died today.

I love great acting, and I am a film buff. Paul Newman was one of the few of the 60’s and 70’s actors that I like.

I remember when Butch Cassidy came out, how my sister fall for Robert Redgrave, and I for Paul Newman. He had more depth than many actors of his time.

Although I always fancied women, I can see beauty in men as well.

I find a face that has intelligence is watchable, Paul Newman had that.

I know nothing of his private life, and that is good. I find the celebrity culture where we know what average actors have for breakfast, have they been to get their hair cut.

Paul Newman was a movie star, and movie stars only give out what is will promote their films, all else is private.

I hope that “Cool Hand Luke” comes on TV, coz that is my personal favourite Paul Newman film.

So Paul Newman rest in peace, and thanks for giving pleasure for so many people.

Axe Men

Posted on by rmott62

This week there has many clips of programme “Axe Men” – the most dangerous job in the world.

I would say being a prostitute was more dangerous than being a lumberjack.

But images of hairy macho men chopping down trees is so much more photogenic than images of battered, raped and murdered prostituted women and girls.

In one clip one macho man said – I don’t think I could do work that wasn’t life-threatening.

What a privileged thing to say. I reckon he said this coz he thinks he is unlikely to die.

Many prostitutes do not have that luxury.

They do not choose to be murdered. They do not choose to do “work” that makes them self-harm. “Work” where suicide is the hidden hazard.

TV does do “documentaries” on prostitutes, but all too often hides the violence and the mental abuse of the prostituted women and girls.

Instead we have programmes like “Bunny Ranch” which give a sanitised view of brothels in Nevada.

Programmes that seemed to be guided by the managers and pimps in the brothels as to where and how to film. Programmes where all the prostitutes are all adults who are happy with their lifestyles. Programmes where the men are wanting “dirty” sex, but are not violent.

Hell it is a Disney view of prostitution, with the added bonus of soft-core porn.

We are not shown any damage, instead the TV is advertising the joys of prostitution.

But to show the dead eyes of the prostitution who cannot imagine another way of living. Eyes that show she is not living, she is existing. That is too much for TV.

To show that women and girls “disappear” when they are prostituted. They disappeared and their lives have no importance.

Show a documentary that said in one city how many prostituted women and girls are dead.

Plant white crosses for every woman and girls who could not survived prostitution.

Then it may seen in plain view that prostitution may be the most dangerous job in the world.

Though maybe it is not a “job”, for the majority of women and girls did not have a free choice to do it.

But I want their lives to mattered.

Mind Your Language

Posted on by rmott62

I have always had an interest in the power of words. As I see and feel my experiences in the sex trade, I have found I have had to change my language.

I have had to change my mind-set.

For most of my life, I did not associated the word “prostitute” with who I was.

I thought that prostitution was a choice, and that it was relatively harmless. But I could see what I did as “fun”. I needed to believe that prostitution could be empowering, but I seemed to have no power.

I could know what I was. I was confused when I got money, as I detached money from the sex I had done.

I made myself believe men were just generous. As I got free drinks, free cigarettes. As I got these without conversation, but always did sex. As I got money, or saw money being exchanged between men, I refused to join the dots.

Like so many, I also thought prostitution was not part of my life coz only “dirty girls” were prostituted.

I told myself I just slept with a lot of men. I tried to imagine they were “dates”.

I did wonder why I never saw them again. I did wonder why they did not talk to me, except to order me around or to swear at me.

I did wonder how come I could not remember their faces.

Why so often I would blank out what had happened.

I did not know what to call what I was.

I thought – slut, whore, stupid, mental, dirty bitch – they were words that fitted my self-hate.

I could not imagine words where I was not to blame.

I could not see that anyone would do what I did without “asking for it”. That was who I was.

I let men gang-rape me. I let in painful anal sex. I let men beat me up. I let myself be passed around violent men.

I had no words, no language. I had only a silence that was suffocating me.

Whilst I forced myself to blame myself, there was a scream in me, knowing there must more to life than this pain.

I was silently screaming – I don’t belong here.

I needed another language.

It grow gradually. It grow as I meet and work with women surviving domestic violence. It grow as I read and campaigned for survivors of torture. It grow as I read letters from traumatised soldiers.

And it grow as I saw the dead eyes of teenagers on the streets.

I felt I was not alone. I felt I had other words.

Words that lifted tiny parts of my self-hate.

I was getting compassion.

As I saw trauma in others, I understood and was not scared of what they said. As they use graphic words to try to make sense of the senseless, I felt relief as I know it was true.

I was changing how I spoke my words, as I begun to doubt everything I had believed.

As I begun to see that most of the trauma I had was forced into me, that I could not of ask for it – I slowly felt a compassion for who I was.

I saw I had been brainwashed to blame myself. That my abusers had not “accidentally” cause me damage.

I had been abused without regard of my mental welfare. I had placed into sex acts where I put onto the edge of death.

When I bashed up, there was a calm knowing how to hit without any outward show of violence.

I was in harm’s way, as the men would not use a condom.

As I saw the danger I had been placed in, I came to see I was a prostitute.

I made connections.

I saw I being exchanged between men only for sadistic sex. I saw they had no interest in me as a person.

I saw and remembered, and grow a fury, that the men would not let me speak. Or if I did speak, I would have show I was stupid to please their egos. I must not have a brain.

I thought of the sex I had done and was doing, and I begun to know I hated it.

This was the most dangerous time in my life. I could no longer close out the pain.

I could not know how to stop the violence, all I knew was I wanted out.

I turn to overdosing, heavy drinking and cutting in places no-one would see. It made me forget for a while.

I could not accept the anal sex, the fucking behind pubs, the men seeing me as “the type” that wants rough sex any more.

I just did not know the route out.

Each time, I was again being doing sadistic sex I felt it. I could not make myself go dead.

Each time I was in violent rape. Only I could speak any words for I hated myself for being back in that situation.

I had nowhere to put my trauma, so I eat it down.

Hell is being inside trauma and seeing the reality of it, but not seeing or knowing an exit.

The only time, I can speak freely of who I was is now.

Now, I live outside the sex trade. Now, I am building a life where I try to have relationships built on respect and honesty.

Now, I am allow to have intelligence, that I am allow to have many interests.

I can speak of being prostitute, for now that is just one aspect of who I am.

I say I was prostitution, I will not use the label “sex worker”, for that implied that it was just a job like any other job.

Yes, it may of been dangerous, but in the “sex worker” mind-set, that dangers is just a hazard of the work. It is assume that the woman or girl can control her own safety.

She should have enough “sense” to not let men be violent or not to use condoms. The men are made unimportant when discussing sex work and the harm reductions that will placed in the sex trade.

I find harm reduction is quite a surreal idea.

It is very hard to make a man use a condom. If a man want to be violence on a prostitute, he will have a label on his forehead as a warning sign.

There can never be total safety for prostituted women and girls.

I had friends who thought as escorts they were working on the safer end of prostitution. Their managers convinced that all men would use condoms. A driver would be outside if any trouble was to happened. That all the men had been vetted.

These women were beaten up and raped. As my friend said – A man can do a lot of damage in three minutes.

Harm reduction is more about continuing the trade in women and girls for men to have as sex objects, but portraying a good public image.

It not about the safety of prostituted women and girls, for they are just disposable goods.

So I say I was prostituted, for that at least is honest.

It says I was a fuck-object. It says I had no rights, I did not count as a human. 

It says it was not my choice, that I had been brainwashed by my experiences and the real threat of violence, to learn to accept I could get out.

When I say I was prostituted, I can feel pride that I survive, and maintain my essence against the odds.

Now I am not scared of the word “prostitute”, I just feel great compassion for that part of my life.

Frustration

Posted on by rmott62

I have been hearing and reading a little of the Labour Party conference. I find Westminster politics rather tedious, and mainly about the egos of politicians and nothing to do with the voters.

But one speech I pricked up my ears, and heard that prostitution being mentioned. As to be expected, I found what was said was frustrating.

Politicians speak “bravely” of dealing with prostitution, but to me their words are just about clearing the mess of the outward show of prostitution under the carpet.

It about not disturbing “normal” people, whilst still making a great deal of the sex trade still available to men.

After all the vast majority of punters are potential voters or MPs.

The focus was on street prostitution and kerb crawlers.

I do like the idea of stopping curb crawling. I hope that does not mean just in residential areas, where it may upsets “decent” neighbours, but in all areas where there is street prostitution.

For all too often the “problem” is solved by creating designated area for street prostitution. Usually in industrial estates or other areas that are quite isolated.

As if street prostitution is not dangerous enough, in these designated areas there is little or no protection. It can attracts men from all other, making it hard to know whether they are dangerous or not.

Prostitutes are easy prey in these designated areas, men can and will use violence for control.

But most street prostitutes are not potential voters, so their safety is low on the list when politicians decide to deal with prostitution.

For there was no talk of a rounded approach to help women and girls exit street prostitution. No concept of the long-term mental damage done to those women and girls, and some funding and/or training to help them come to terms with their lives.

No talk of helping the women and girls be supported back into society, with help with housing, finding alternative employment, help with childcare and so many things to stop going back into the sex trade.

I don’t think most MPs are interested in the welfare of the prostituted woman or girl, they are just throwaway statistics to them.

The real change for most prostituted women and girls will come through the grassroots, not waiting for politicians to care.

As I read more of the speech on prostitution, I could feel my frustration grow. Especially because it mentions brothels and trafficking.

Now when I think of trafficking of women and girls in the sex trade, I believe it to the movement of women and girls between different aspects of the sex trade. This includes the movement within a local area, movement from one city to another, from one country to another.

That is how I view trafficking, but I find all too often trafficking is just mattering when it between countries.

This may be because they will viewed as “victims”, and can be pitied. But more likely it is because they be deported, and the “problem” will go away.

I suppose it is very hard for me not to be sceptical about the motivations that politians are so concerned about sex trafficking, when there little or nothing done for the vast of women and girls in indoors prostitution.

Most of the violence done in indoors prostitution is viewed as private.

Although the speech appear to be serious about dealing with brothels, I found it was interesting how it was framed.

There was talk of dealing with brothels run by pimps or with trafficked women or girls.

I believe most men who run brothels would not use the label “pimp” rather they would say and be proud that are managers. It is a legitimate business

How these men and a few women choose to run their own business is private, and governments normally do not intervene. I do not see that changing.

In the speech, there was some talk of prostituted women and girls who are exploited by the sex trade.

Here it damned hard for me not to be cynical.

After all I would say round 98% of prostituted women and girls are exploited by the sex trade, I doubt if the speech was about the vast majority of those women.

Most of commonplace violence done to prostituted women and girls is just seen as a hazard of the job.

As long as the myth exists that prostitution was chosen, the violence will seen as something that prostituted woman or girl wants or desires.

Most violence is made invisible.

So when I hear talk of dealing with exploitation of prostituted women and girls, I see no words that will stop men from raping and torturing them.

Whilst prostituted women and girls are divided into those worthy of government action and those unworthy, where the violence will continue.

I feel the government will speak of protecting “victim” prostituted women and girls – that under-aged prostitutes, trafficked women from abroad, women forced and/imprisoned into prostituton by pimps.

These are women and girls will be saved. But their words are rarely heard.

But the sex trade need not worry too much, for the government will not be bother about the vast majority of prostituted women and girls who are considered to be unexploited. So their constant flow of women and girls will be unaltered.

For most prostituted women and girls there will no protection from violence. The “unsaved” will most prostitutes who do indoors prostitution, whether it is in saunas, clubs, brothels, flats or from pubs.

Those women are viewed as chosing that “work” so there is no need to protect them or to give them rights.

There is little need to believe that many of these women and girls are trapped. There is no need to know about the mental damage done to those women and girls.

The sex trade will portrayed that it is empowering to be prostituted, and all too often governments choose to believe that dangerous lie.

It is easier to believe that, than to see the terrible conditions and soul-destroying effects of being in prostitution. For that would mean a radical change, that in the long-term we should working towards making prostitution a dinosaur.

Finding a Path

Posted on by rmott62

The journey away from my past is very hard. I need to say that the moreI know what I had to live with, the more I feel humble at my ability to survive.

I believe my survival was partly my determination to believe and to seek for a path out. A path that will lead back to my real self.

If I have the courage that others say I have, it is the courage to keep to my path, and refuse to be distracted off it.

All my life when I was abused, I believed this is not my real life.

I know that I never, ever belonged to my abusers.

As a young child, I felt I had the wrong mother. I was convinced I had been swapped at birth.

This was ridculous, for I was born at grandmother’s house, and there were no other babies near. Ironically, I born in the same bed as my mother.

But I could not believe I belonged to my mother.

I could make no sense that a mother would reject me – when I could see what I had done that was so bad.

My path out was to dream I had another mother who loved me. She was waiting for me, she was crying for me.

When I met my stepdad, I hated him.

My path was to be detached from him.

I could not stop him abusing me. I could stop him making me his little whore. I could not kill him.

So my heart held in my hate.

I dreamt in the day of murdering him, inventing many painful deaths. I imagine my mother divorced him, saying to the world what a bastard he was.

I wanted him to be scared of me.

I follow my path of hate, finding all too often it was a dead-end.

My only path away from porn was to refuse to know.

I blanked from my mind.

But my body would not forget. It remembered as I had headaches where I thought I was dying. It remembered as I was sick in my stomach, sick with fear I would not know, sick with fury I could not know.

My path away from porn was fragile, it made me feel unsafe.

I survived prostitution, so I must of had a path out, but it was invisible to me most of the time.

I may of survived coz I felt so much hate.

I hated all the men that treated my body as their private playpen. As they raped and tortured me, I hated each and every one.

I hated all the men that sold me as goods. Hated they never got their hands dirty, just know that thy had given sadistic men permission to destroy me, as long as they get profit out of it.

I may of survived because I refused to know my reality.

I would allow pain in body. I would refuse to know how I got that pain.

I had to imagined it was my weakness that I felt even a tiny piece of pain.

I would not know that the men that tortured me or made money had hate for all women.

I would not know that the men that tortured me were doing it as an “accident”, but was pre-planned and done without any guilt.

I survived coz I would not know the truth.

I may of survived because I had a few women in my life, women whose lives were as terrifying as mine, but we meet.

These women let me feel some kind of love. A love that we too afraid to know in too much depth.

I meet women where we told sick jokes about our lives. In those jokes, we let ourselves say our truths, but then pretended it was only a story.

With those women, we hid all emotions behind hardness, we told each other we were were tough.

It forced us to live.

I doubt if I ever will know how I survive prostitution, but somehow I found a path out.

Now, I building a solid path so I can survive survival.

This path will be built on believing myself. I will see as clearly as I can what my abusers did to my mind and body.

I will not turn away.

I will let in emotions and not deadened them.

I will face fear in the eye. It was right to be terrified, that was a sane reaction.

I will grieve, my sadness is screaming out its pain and bewilderment. I grieve how much of my life was stolen from me. I grieve that so much of my life was taken away by the bastards that abused me. 

And I will let in fury. A fury that drives to destroy the security of a world where men feel entitled to rape, torture, and mentally destroyed women and children.

Fury that the sex trade is built on the pain of women and girls.

I will be part of the movement that destroy the sex trade.

It may not happened in my lifetime, but the sex trade is too corrupt, too built on evil, too full of lies. It cannot exist with all that poison in it.

That is part of my path, it may be a dream.

But dreamers help build a world that destroy the Atlantic slave trade, dreamers imagine South Africa without apartheid. It was dreamers that thought women could vote.

Any industry built on so pain, deaths and hate cannot exist.

I say to those campaigning to bring a better future for prostituted women and girls, you can bring a change.

Please don’t think small, but think of the long-term being to abolish the sex trade, then you will giving real hope to many women and girls who are trapped now.

That is the real path worth following.

The Power of Connecting

Posted on by rmott62

(This is dedicated my close American friend who let me let go last night).

I have going through a very hard time, seeing and knowing what it was to be prostituted. It has been terrifying but I feel it building another change in me.

I am able to connect, I am finding the missing pieces.

I feel I am with care, with rage, with a force pushing me forward I am finding old words that connect feelings with logic. Words that make of my sense of isolation with far too many girls and women.

I called what happened to me torture.

I cannot fit into rape. I cannot fit into being bashed up.

I say torture, and I feel my mind can rest a little.

When I say rape, I feel like I have itchy clothes on. It is not right.

I feel bad saying this, but my uncomfortableness will not leave me.

It is hard to know and named it as rape when you remember going in the room knowing most men would do sadistic sex.

It is hard to know and named as rape when you are undressed and laying on the bed without them saying any words.

That was not what I thought was rape.

It is damned hard to know and name it as rape when I went back to that world whenever I hated myself.

But when I hear the word torture, it makes more sense, never full sense – but enough sense for some inner peace.

I know torture comes after brainwashing.

Brainwashing that teaches you only deserve pain and humiliation. That is who you are. Every cell in your body will be punish for that.

In that state of mind that many prostituted women and girls turn away from knowing rape, and can only believe that they wanted it.

Torture will make you believe night is day, that a cat is a dog.

Torture enough and you don’t feel no pain, don’t remember how you got your injuries.

Only way to cope with torture is not to know it.

I run into alcohol, into fucking violent men, into eating trash food, into cutting and overdosing, into smashing windows and bikes, into refuses to sleep.

To not know I had to be dead.

All prostituted women and girls need a slice of that deadness to survive, some need it more than others, but that deadness can be a life-saver.

To survive that I was living in torture, I had to cut any emotion. I especially cut out any closeness to joy, it was too hard to touch it and then be throw back into torture.

I stopped listening to music, I stopped walking in nature, I would let myself love women, I avoided the good parts of my family.

To survive torture, you have to closed down.

You cannot have dreams of a future, you must forget you had a past.

To survive is all that matter.

Survival by any means necessary.

Survive by remembering to keep breathing. Survive by robbing the men, just so you feel you have one over them whether they know or not.

Survive by refusing say any personal, even if that will lead to vicious beatings and sexual acts. Survive by never looking them in the eye.

Survive by forgetting, and trying to live a “normal” life when not with the men. Survive by not saying that you are a prostitute, and hide in other roles.

Surviving the torture that is called prostitution is the hardest work I have ever done in my life.

But I did by the skin of my teeth, and somehow I manage not to lose my mind.

So I called it torture, for that it a word that is powerful enough to say my truth into.

It is a word that can connect with so many, far too many prostituted women and girls who are being viciously tortured as you read this.

Please make your focus to be changing their futures.

Inconvenient to Stay Alive

Posted on by rmott62

THIS IS TRIGGERING

Being alive and remembering the violence of prostitution is inconvenient.

I should be too mentally ill to remember. I should be too scared to speak. I should forget about speaking out.

I should be dead.

It is very inconvenient that women like me are alive.

As this week my body has remember the tortures that it had to lived with. As I know the cold hate I was suffocated by.

I remember.

I can no longer be shut down by numbness. I will be shut away in fear.

Yes, the inconvenient of survival is it can bring on rage. It can connect, and see that what seemed to be an one-off experience, is common for millions of women and girls.

Now that is an inconvenient truth.

As I know in my mind and body how I made into a prostitute, I know it was commonplace practice.

There is my rage.

I rage that my childhood and young adulthood was stolen.

But more I rage as everywhere young teenage girls are seasoned into the sex trade, usually by using extreme violence.

I have remembered that I was gang-raped until I became a nothing.

But I rage as I know in my heart, by reading, by listening to others survivors, hearing on the radio and wanting to know – that those gang-rapes were and are common practice in the sex trade,

It is common in brothels in wars and for the armed forces. It is common with trafficked prostituted women. It is common in clubs as gifts to favoured “clients”. It is used to control women in brothels.

And it is a common practice to season young teenage girls to sort which would make passive prostitutes.

For only girls who already so damaged that they do not react to hours of gang-raping will be suitable.

They will obey, will be used by punters for extreme violent sex, they will not know if underpaid or not even know that they should be paid.

These girls are disposable, for there many more after them.

Many of these girls are dead, many are highly damaged. Most who have survived with strength, choose never to speak of their past.

But the few that remembered, survived and choose to speak out are highly inconvenient.

The sex trade and the men that used it believed that if the violence is extreme enough, any woman or girl who has the nerve to speak out will not be believed.

I believed that the extreme violence done to me is almost impossible for me to believe, and I know in every cell of my body that it is true.

It is hard to fathom gang-rape in a park by a gang of youth, and that is the cliche of gang-rape.

But the gang-rape without passion, without any sense that it could be wrong. Gang-rape with a queue of men paying for the privilege to fuck the goods.

Gang-rape where the goods has to boost the men’s ego, where she must have an orgasm for as many men as she can.

All gang-rapes are terrible. But most are one-off.

So, imagine this gang-rape is just seen as your job. Imagine you have no time or space to have trauma from it.

It is torture.

And torture is not meant to be remembered.

Those who speak out of the common practices of mental, physical and sexual torture of the sex trade. Those who were on the receiving end of it.

They are bloody inconvenient.

They are hard to push under the carpet, for they speak their truths coz every part of their body is wanting to say no more torture.

No more women and girls have to be sacrifice for the men wanting to fuck with hate and violence.

And no more women and girls as disposable goods for the profit of the sex trade.

Women and girls who were tortured in the sex trade who speak out are very hard to controlled and silenced.

Their rage is too strong.

They are some of the strongest women I will ever know.

They have know a fear that most people cannot even imagine.

Most have touch death several times. Most have lost women and girls in their lives too often to able to grieve them.

The world they have known thinks it will never be known by the “outside”.

That is the inconvenient of survivors of the sex trade that speak out.

They expose the sex trade.

In the end that is why the sex trade waste so time and energy trying to ridicule these survivors.

But one thing of being a survivor of that world, is that you never allow to control your mind again.

All survivors can do is speak the their truths and hope to erode the power of the sex trade.

Grooming

Posted on by rmott62

THIS IS TRIGGERING.

I was very angry when I wrote my last post, it was because this weekend I have been knowing about the first night of prostitution in my life.

I know and see who I was then, how I had lost everything.

I feel I was trained and prepared by stepdad’s abuse and my knowledge of hard-core porn.

For if incest is the boot-camp for the sex trade, then viewing hard-core was my specialist training.

I was taught to accept I had no will. I was taught to expect pain with sex.

I was taught to smile.

I was taught to do oral sex. To fake orgasms. To not back away when I eaten out.

I was taught to be at my stepdad’s beck and call. Taught to accept his moods.

I learnt to have no expression. To eat down all my emotions.

I learnt how to make my mind blank any memory of what was rape or mental abuse.

I learnt that I was nothing, only what others wanted of me.

That was before I was prostituted. Before I was a teenager.

I was groomed to be a prostitute. It was logical.

Hadn’t I got money and presents from my stepdad each he decided he felt slight guilt.

Hadn’t he brought expensive meals before he would fuck me again.

Didn’t he call me his little whore.

Becoming a prostitute was all I was good for.

That was my role in life.

But the grooming for my role didn’t end there.

I had to show that I was nothing, that men could use me in any way they wanted – then I would right for sadistic prostitution.

So that first night must be remembered. It must be shown.

For I know that there are far too many girls all over the world who are made into prostitutes as I was.

It was no one-off, it was a common tactic of the sex trade.

This weekend my mind has explored, it was more than gang-rape.

I have seen I was put into a flat. I don’t see much only some bed, posters on the wall. Typical student crap. Books on shelves.

All the normal Cambridge bedsit.

Only I am surrounded by men. No words.

Remembering is hard, it seemed so surreal. My mind want to fit into a neat story.

Have a nice beginning, middle and end. But memory refuses to fit that.

It is shown as endless middle of torture.

I want to be clear, and my mind and body rages it was never that simple. There no neatness.

And it was a hell a long way away from a happy ending.

But, back to then.

I see I know to undress. I know to be quick. I know to go on the bed. All that was my normal.

But then I did not know.

I was gang-raped slowly and without much passion. As men were raping they were making sure others were watching their performance.

As they forced into every hole I had, as they pour sperm all over me. They were studying how I reacted.

It was not just one group of men, it another group after them, then another.

I don’t know how many men.

I know it went on for hours.

For when I left it was early morning.

Hell, I was suitable to be brought and sold.

Coz as I was gang-raped I was dead inside.

I remembered to smile. I moved to how they wanted me.

I shown no fear. I did not cry.

It did not occur that I could call it rape. That I should report it as a crime.

As I left, I blanked it out.

That meant I would go back.

I hate writing this, but to bring real change to prevent other girls going into that world. We have to see their emotional void that makes them believe that is all they are worth.

I cannot save my teenager, but if I can help a movement to help others, it gives that part of me some peace.

It is Not the Same

Posted on by rmott62

Yesterday, after a week of my anger rising in my body, I spent time with a close friend, and said it out loud.

Yes, I was raped as a child.

But it is not the same as prostitution.

Yes, I was date-raped by  “friends”.

It is not the same as prostitution.

Yes, I have mentally abused by women and men that should of been my protectors.

That is not like mental abuse in the sex trade.

I sorry that it had to be said, it should just be a clear-cut statement, not have to be said over and over.

It is just I have a lifetime of being told how I experienced my life, often by saying it is like rape, domestic violence or other male violence to women and girls.

Yes, it partly like that, but I know there are differences.

The first night I raped as a prostitute, I know the differences.

I know as I became nothing, I know my life was nothing to no-one.

That was partly there with rape and child abuse, but it is reported, it is talk about. There are many debate on what to do with rapists and child abusers.

Yes, there is very little done to force those men to change.

But many view those men as wrong, even outside what is consider to be normal.

As I gang-raped on the first night, it was clear this is ok.

Men raped and tortured prostituted women and girls, and most of society doesn’t bat an eye.

Most will think that it just part of her job. If it so bad, she should leave.

The men do not believe it is rape, that they are bashing up a woman or girl.

The thing that really makes the difference is many prostituted women and girls can’t named it as violence.

They have time or space for words.

There is no time or space for trauma.

Trauma is a luxury for many prostituted women and girls.

When I was gang-raped, I was not given that luxury.

Instead to groom me for the world of prostitution, I was gang-raped until I could no longer think.

I was broken down.

Yesterday, as I spoke to my friend I remembered what my mind had closed for over twenty years.

I realised that as I was broken, I turn hard. I choose to perform to survive.

I know how to survive prostitution.

It was to smile. It was to go on and on how good the men were as I was being tortured. It was to fake orgasms.

I have written I became pornography, but to say to a close friend, and to feel those words.

To be cry and be hugged over those words.

To know those men were just buying goods. There was no passion, no guilt. 

They were just doing what men do when they choose to buy a woman or girl.

It was not personal.

When raped by family or friends, they saw me as a person.

I had a name, they had done other things with me. They saw my face, I know their face.

As they raped or hit me, however they may choose to make me invisible they know I was real.

This was shown in their fake guilt. God knows how times I have heard rapists say they were sorry – only to know they will find another excuse to rape again.

But the punters did not see me, they saw where they could stick their penis. They saw where to slap me, how to hit me so I obey them. They saw only I was their property until they got bored.

They never said sorry.

I find difficult writing this, coz I am tapping in the rage.

I am very scared that I will offend, but I need to say things.

The thing I find hard to deal with is how being prostituted, means nearly everyone will think they know what that means.

For me, the more I remember the less I understand of how I survive. The more I remember and see clearly, the more I used words such as sexual torture rather than rape. I say I a witness, rather than a victim or survivor.

I want words that fix the deadness I had to have to get to where I am today.

I want words that say I did not know it could be named rape, could be called battery. I want words that fit that life.

I don’t want comparisons.

I need for that woman and girl I was, a language that does dismiss that she went from one rapist to another rapist, and felt nothing.

I want words that speak for the deadness in the eyes of all women and girls that the sex trade owns.

Then I want peace.