My thoughts on prostitution

Someone reviewed my Paper Roses poem and asked if I was a prostitute. Here's what I wrote as a response:

I actually answer "speak" to this query in one of my book chapters.

To be very plain and clear: No. Most definitely not. Not something I have ever done or could ever do, no matter my circumstances. No amount of money, no amount of anything could ever allow me to compromise myself in that way. There is no situation you could ever place me in that would make me so desperate that I would sell or exchange my body for anything. I will fucking die fighting for my survival, but my body and soul have never been for sale. It's not worth it.

Some women seem to think that it's liberating, but I have never viewed prostitution in that way. It's something women have been historically forced into during desperate times to survive, to feed and take care of their kids during wars and famines, to leave a warzone or horrible gangrun country in search of a better life... but not every woman goes that route. And many that do end up getting screwed by the men who promise them freedom and coerce them into it. The men end up with most of the profits and the women just end up with a debt they can never repay in exchange for the "freedom" that always seems just out of reach.

Also, most women I knew who were prostitutes just put on an act of being ok with it. Most use drugs and alcohol to numb themselves and block out the often irreversible damage it does to their psyches, to their hearts, to their lives, to their very souls. The body remembers what the heart and mind tries hard to keep buried away.

On 7/1/24 at 9:21am, in a review for "Paper Roses" , {suser:******} wrote:

> Could you have been a prostitute? This poem expresses a very sad thought.
> Keep writing.
> ****