I got into prostitution as a homeless fifteen-year-old girl on the streets of Dublin. I met a young man in his early twenties who thought it would be a good idea if I were made available to men sexually so he could benefit financially. Of course he didn’t put it like that, but that is exactly what happened. Nor did he ever tell me he was my pimp, but that is what he was. I remained in prostitution for seven years, being exploited at all levels: street red-light zones, massage parlours and escort agencies in hundreds of locations across three Irish cities.
None of the women and girls I met in prostitution remotely compared to the ‘happy hooker’ image that’s peddled relentlessly by those who have a financial stake in misrepresenting the reality of prostitution, earned either off their pimping or off their books, blogs and TV shows. I have seen nothing anywhere that leads me to regard the term ’sex work’ with anything less than the contempt it deserves. I have attended funerals and avoided others, have been assaulted sexually and physically too many times to count and witnessed a relentless wave of female misery, which often expressed itself in alcoholism and narcotic addiction as a direct result of the psychological torment inherent to ritualistic unwanted sex.
When I look back now I see that prostitutuion lured and consumed those of us who were already marginalised in society. If you were poor, if you were disadvantaged, if you had come from a broken home or had vulnerabilities connected to prior cycles of abuse, especially sexual abuse, prostitution was there waiting for you. Prostitution is a trap, and it’s not a coincidence that all over the world it ensnares those who are already struggling to survive.
