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~This letter was written by Amber (not her real name), a survivor of sex-trafficking who was recruited into prostitution at the age of fourteen [she is now an adult]. She was recently rescued and is currently doing well and healing. She bravely wrote this "Open Letter" to all the Johns/Tricks/Mongers who think that prostitution is a victim-less crime. We felt that it deserves to be read by everyone~
Dear "John,"
If you like sex, that’s okay. If you love women, that’s normal. If you are a good man, listen up. If you are a man who thinks it is okay to buy women for sex, this is for you. If you think that you are paying for sex in a “mutually beneficial” arrangement, think again. If you think you are “helping me” in any way, I am directing this at you. If you are an evil man who treats women with disrespect, feel free to disregard. This is letter to all of those johns who consider themselves “good” men.
I have met so many of you, too many, in all shapes and sizes; old men, young men, fat, skinny, married, single, drug dealers, lawyers, police officers; I have seen them all. You are not special. None of you. I do not understand how you justify yourself. You think putting your penis inside of me is okay because you are “kind.” That place is the most private and intimate part of me and you invade it without scruple because you paid to have a go or four at it. And, even though it is “for sale,” it was never meant to be. I never wanted it to be. Could you ever see your daughter in this business? No? Guess what, I am someone’s daughter, too.
That money that you give me? You’re not paying me. You’re paying some man just as disgusting as you are. You buy me like property in a store. You compare my looks to the looks of the girls next to me and decide that I am most your type. You perpetuate this vicious cycle. You demand, so people kidnap children to supply to your sick demand. Before you bought me like a doll, enclosed in plastic, did you ever once stop to think that there is a human being with a mind, heart, and soul of their own behind that body that you lust for so much?
You think you are okay. You didn't hit me or rob me. You didn’t roofie my drink. You asked me how my day was going. Maybe you asked me how I got “caught up in this.” Here’s a hint, I lied to you. You stroked my hair and gave me a back massage. Maybe even got me to smile. Here’s another hint. I’m the best actress you have ever met.
But, you never asked about my scars.You never asked about the bruises and the burns done by men with adventurous sexual fetishes, them enjoying seeing me brace and suppress screams. Or maybe you did. Some of you ask if someone is hurting me. Did you ever take a look in the mirror as you asked this? Cause there is someone right there. You are a rapist as far as I am concerned. You being sweet and kind doesn't change my opinion of you because at the end of the day you leave me feel violated and mostly, pained beyond explanation. A victim-less crime, you say? The damage is irreversible—damage that you as well as the man after you and the man after him will all help to cause. You call yourself my friend, you bring me gifts from time to time. I hate you all the same. My smile allows you to trick yourself. Why do you think they call it a trick anyway?
Sure, maybe you lost a few dollars. I had to dish out something, too - I had to swallow my pride, fake a laugh, and pretend that I don’t feel like it’s rape every time you penetrate me. You think because you hold me after that, that it doesn't hurt so bad, but it’s even worse. Don’t hold me like I am yours because I am someone else's. He treats me like property just like you. And, he paid a lot more for me than you did. He is probably hiding in the next room. Your warm, sweet embrace makes me even more sick than when you were pounding away at my body and more importantly, my sanity and innocence and ultimately, life.
Everybody loves me, but nobody loves me. Do you understand that? I know you do. Because you love me, but you don’t love me. You have fooled yourself into thinking that your sweet demeanor makes you less harmful. And that since I smile or laugh, that you are not so bad. You think I enjoyed your company just as much as you enjoyed mine.
You say you are a “good man” and that the words I speak could never pertain to you. Open your ears. And, the next time you meet a girl like me, ask yourself not how she got there, but who put her there. No female chooses prostitution as her profession; someone else forced her into body trade and if you think she's not punching or kicking when you commence intercourse even though it is painful, it is because if she does it, she will be punched and kicked by those who "own" her, later. Who is benefiting from her having sex with you? Certainly, it is not her - she should go to school by day and sleep by night but there she is, crying inside all day and sleep with dozens of men by night, many, old enough to be her father and grandfather. If you look into her eyes and don’t see your daughter, then you are just as sick as the man before you, and the man who most certainly will come after. If you have convinced yourself that your actions are warranted and that you are not hurting anyone, then the trick worked on you after all. Welcome to The Game, buddy.
Sincerely,
Amber.
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