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An Unlikely Union: Julie Bindel on a World of Pimps, Punters and Workers

21 Apr

This extremely important article by Julie Bindel describes how a sex workers union (the IUSW) which was founded by idealistic academics with the goal of ending prostitution was taken over by pimps and used to promote their sexual exploitation of other people.

To read click here: IUSWGaze

cruel-city

Glimpsing Eve

8 Apr sex trafficking survivors united, imago dei fund, half the sky, gender, religious gender hierarchy, inclusive language, patriarchy, feminism, empowerment, healing, emily nielsen jones

sex trafficking survivors united, imago dei fund, half the sky, gender, religious gender hierarchy, inclusive language, patriarchy, feminism, empowerment, healing, emily nielsen jones

“Regardless of what religious tradition it is, whether Buddhist, Muslim, Jewish or Christian, the language of religious-based gender hierarchy sounds pretty much the same:  women be “quiet” and “submissive” and accept limited roles within the family, the church, and in society.  When Christians export this mode of thinking around the world, it becomes one more rationale for keeping women in a subordinate role in society, doing most of the work but not ever “owning” their own work and finding their own path in life.”

– Emily Nielsen Jones

The followig moving and powerful post is by brilliant Emily Nielsen-Jones, founder of the Imago Dei Fund.  She discusses the beauty and spiritual resilience of women in the face of violence and inequality.  Many sex trafficking survivors have felt judgment and exclusion by religious institutions, even though many of us seek (and often find) nourishment there, so I was very grateful to read this brave discussion.  It will inspire you!  Here’s an excerpt — you can read the entire beautiful post at Emily and her sister Julie’s blog The Women’s Liberty Bell:

As my global gender awareness continues to expand and grow, what I see in the mirror of our world is a wounded but beautiful face looking back at me.  Her name is Eve.
Who is Eve?  Not the literal, historical character some of us learned about in Sunday school, but rather who She represents in a universal, archetypal human sense: the “Mother of the Living”, the feminine face of God in our world, the collective embodiment of womankind as image-bearers of God.  Who is Eve?  I am Eve.  My daughter is Eve.  My sisters, my mother, aunts, girlfriends, female colleagues, sisters around the world, each a unique face of Eve in the world, each way more interesting than the “role” churches still teach us we should be and the body images sold to us by the media.
Eve… a female-shaped diamond with many facets… She that cannot be defined by anyone or anything externally… She knows her beauty & strength and offers it graciously to the world, even when it is undervalued & diminished…
….
Eve diminished: “submissive”, victimized, “lesser than”, in her place at the margins of church and organizations, Eve hidden by a veil of shame and inferiority, Eve as scape goat and whipping girl at the hands of male pride and presumption.  I see this wounded face of Eve in the subtle wounds of women raised in the church, which continues to lag behind the rest of society in working toward gender equity, and in the more egregious wounds of girls and women around the world who are victims of gender-based violence. Women have come along way but still suffer a scale of the physical, sexual and psychological violence worldwide that is mind-numbing, a pandemic humanitarian crisis that crosses every social and economic class, every religion, race and ethnicity.
….
Eve rising up:  strong, empowered, self-actualized, very human and very female, in her full power and glory—God-like—a feminine face of God in our world, a passionate lover, a fierce protector, a compassionate pillar holding up more than “half the sky”, inspiring leader, creator, a healing presence in our world.  Eve no longer accepting an inferior place in society, defined by men, Eve rising up to take her full place in creating a better world where all human beings can live and flourish side-by-side. In many ways, as Eve rises up, all of humanity is elevated to a more civil, higher way of being, one in which power is not power over another, but power with, power to give and receive and offer one’s gifts to the world. Some of the most interesting, capable social activists that I have met this past year are women, women who are working in their sweet spot, living out their calling in the world, empowered by their imago dei to give power and dignity to others and to work toward the betterment of humanity, woman who mirror to me the feminine heart of God, the face of Eve, the Mother of the Living.
Read more of this beautiful post here at The Women’s Liberty Bell.

52 Trafficking/Prostitution Survivors Vote to Support Irish Survivor Abolitionists’ Efforts

10 Sep

freeirishwoman, stella marr, rachel lloyd, belle de jour, sex worker, sex worker activism, prostitution, human trafficking, sex trafficking, feminism, ptsd, trauma, torture

Survivors Connect Network, (Now Sex Trafficking Survivors United) an international coalition of trafficking/prostitution survivors, has voted unanimously to stand with and support the goals of our Irish sister survivor abolitionists.   These amazing women, some of whom are members of Survivors Connect Network,  are working courageously to bring the Nordic model  into Irish law while insisting on meaningful help for women exiting trafficking/prostitution.

Author, survivor and activist Rachel Moran explains further:

“In the run-up to the Irish government’s deliberations on the future of prostitution legislation in Ireland, I put out a global appeal to women who’d experienced trafficking/prostitution via Survivor’s Connect Network. I asked that they vote to support our efforts to see the basic principles of the Nordic Model implemented here in Ireland:

1 – The criminalisation of sex-buying.

2 – This law would of course criminalise only the buyers of sex, not the sellers of it, because we believe that no woman should be criminalised for her own exploitation.  and

3 – The pledge of real, practical and workable supports for women exiting prostitution, including education, training, housing, trauma counselling, and specially trained social workers.

“We Irish survivor abolitionists received wholehearted support; in fact many survivors from around the world asked how they might be of any further help or assistance. We were and are sincerely comforted to feel the collective solidarity of survivors of prostitution and trafficking in our struggle.

“To each of the many women who voted to support us, I would say this letter is a thank you, but in fact it is a statement that we cannot thank you enough.

“With strongest solidarity and deepest gratitude,

Rachel Moran”

How the Sex Industry Threatens Survivors Speaking Out while Pimps Pose as Sexworker Activists

28 Jun

survivors connect network, sex worker activists, pimps, human trafficking, prostitution, trauma, sex positive feminism, radical feminism, human rights, stella marr

James Baldwin wrote “The victim who is able to articulate the situation of the victim has ceased to be a victim: she has become a threat.”

I had no idea how threatening my voice was until I started to make it heard.  None of us trafficking and prostitution survivors did, until we started to write about the brutality we’ve experienced and big players within  pimp-dominated ‘sex worker activist’ groups started to do everything they could to silence us and deny we exist.  Survivor bloggers are cyber-stalked via Facebook, email, twitter and hateful blog comments.  Our email accounts are hacked and private information that could endanger us is tweeted or revealed elsewhere online.  Spiteful emails about us are sent to people we work with.

I’d like to give you a glimpse of this intense bullying, using myself as an example. I’m not asking for sympathy; I want to show you what survivor activists go through when we break the silence.

I came out as a survivor online in March 2011.  Almost immediately pro-sex industry men and women affiliated with the Sex Workers Outreach Project (SWOP) USA and other pimp-led activist organizations began emailing me and posting aggressive comments on my Facebook wall.  As I got bolder I started leaving comments after articles about prostitution in major newspapers and blogs.  At this point I did not have my own blog, and we hadn’t yet formed Survivors Connect Network.  I was an obscure private person. Nonetheless, members of the “Network of Sex Work Projects” found me.  An anonymous email brought me to this creepy thread about me on admitted madam (a madam is a female pimp) Maggie McNeill’s blog.  Another anonymous email led me to this piece on Bound Not Gagged.  Here McNeill implies that I’m a puppet controlled by abolitionistsNorma Jean Almodovar, the executive director of COYOTE LA, suggests that I might not exist.    Billie Jackson, the founder of SWOP Colorado, criticizes my language. Maxine Doogan, the leader of the Erotic Service Providers’ Union states that I remind her of another troublemaker.  She links to a video created by Michael Whiteacre, a lawyer and filmmaker connected with the pornography industry. The video, called The Devil and Shelley Lubben, slanders Lubben, a survivor who speaks out about abuse in the porn industry.  It includes an interview with an actor who was in a pornographic movie that depicts Lubben with six men.  He discusses her sexual performance.  The message is clear:  Make waves and this could happen to you.

These invasive tactics have only amplified as time passes.  There have been numerous other creepy comment threads and blog posts which pick at me and make false statements written by people I’ve never met who are affiliated with these ‘sex worker activist’ groups.  They are a constant background noise and the volume keeps increasing.  Most survivors who write or speak about prostitution go through this.

Any examples I give are just splashes from an ocean of harassment.  Examine these droplets:

  • A few hours after the first ever video broadcast of a talk by Survivors Connect (SC) members, rich and famous Brooke Magnanti sends a tweet to her 49,900 followers, Elena Jeffreys, head of the Scarlett Alliance, an Australian sex worker group affiliated with SWOP USA, and McNeill.  The tweet states that SC members are “like Operation Rescue” an extremist group known for harassing women at abortion clinics.  Survivors Connect formed just four months ago.  Our 48 members are all crime victims and survivors of trafficking/prostitution.  McNeill blogs at Sex Workers without Borders (SWWB) with Jill McCracken, a college professor who is part of SWOP USA. No one at Survivors Connect has ever met Magnanti, McNeill or Jeffreys.
  • As I’m editing this article I get a tweet from another stranger which contains encoded language that refers to the confidential part of my life.  If I were to interpret this fully I would be revealing my location by a matter of just miles.  The message here is clear: We know where you are.

This is what it’s like for survivor activists every day.  You ignore it as much as you can, and then eventually these people get so extreme, threatening or outrageous that they draw you in.  When this happens, I sometimes fall through the floor of my life and into the past’s deep water.  I become the scared, beat up girl I used to be, locked in a room in a brothel.  Then it’s hard to find my way back to the present.  Resurfacing, I’ll stare into blankness for hours while my legs shake.  I’ll feel hollow and my husband’s voice will seem to come from far away.

Because I’m telling you this, people from these ‘sex worker activist’ groups will tell you I’m a vicious liar.  They’ll say they aren’t pimps, even though they admit owning escort services or have convictions associated with profiting off others’ prostitution.  They’ll say I want to send people to jail, even though I hate the US prison system.  They’ll say I’m calling all sex workers pimps.  Their reactions can seem insane but there’s a strategy behind it. This example will help me explain:

A stranger once tried to rape me in the lobby of my tenement walkup building in broad daylight. I screamed and people came to help.  The good Samaritans who’d seen the incident ran off to find the police after asking some other people who’d arrived later to make sure the would-be rapist didn’t run.  The man who’d attacked me began telling everyone I was his girlfriend and we were having a fight.  He told them it was a private argument we needed to work out between ourselves.  He said I was always accusing him of things but he loved me anyway.  Remember this man was a complete stranger.  But the people who’d remained hadn’t seen him attack me so they let him run away.

The would-be rapist told lies and made accusations to distract people from the wrong he’d done.  Nothing he said would have stood up to scrutiny.  But within the moment his strategy worked perfectly.  He got people who might have helped me forget the truth.  As a result he was able to get away and likely go on to hurt someone else.

My attacker’s tactics were similar to the behavior of some members of these ‘sex worker activist’ groups.  They harass survivors, then if challenged or if supporters come forward, they claim to be allies rather than pimps.  They couldn’t be any more duplicitous – the truth is that suppressing survivor voices is a strategy to protect scores of billions of dollars of organized crime profits.

I was trafficked in prostitution in NYC for ten years.  Those of us in the life used the word pimp for any man or woman who profited from our prostitution.   I have a right to use this language.  All the people who pimped me were part of organized crime, some were women, all were white and most were rich.

Previously I discussed how the International Union of Sex Workers, the Erotic Service Providers Union, COYOTE, and the Sex Workers Outreach Project USA (SWOP) were founded by people who’d been convicted of charges connected with pimping:  pandering, conspiracy to promote interstate prostitution, and promoting prostitution.  But there are lots more.

Sex Professionals of Canada (SPOC) claims to represent women in the sex industry.  But the SPOC recently won a case filed on behalf of two female pimps.   Most women in prostitution have suffered intense violence from the men or women who exploit them, but SPOC was advocating for these predators rather than women in prostitution.  The plaintiffs were  SPOC Deputy Director Amy Lebovitch,  SPOC Legal Coordinator Valerie Scott, who plans to open a brothel, and  Terri Jean Bedford, who was convicted of keeping a bawdy house (a brothel).  SPOC sought to make it legal for men and women to commercially sexually exploit others in prostitution.  In bizarre doublespeak, SPOC described those who own brothels or escort services as ‘employees’ of women in sex industry.  We wouldn’t accept that a restaurant owner was the ‘employee’ of one of his busboys, would we?

Despite the brave testimony of survivor activists from SexTrade101.com, Educating Voices,  Aboriginal Women’s Action Network, and LaCLES.org, Canadian courts chose pimped prostitution for the most vulnerable, who have no other choices.  The case has been appealed.

Turn off the Blue Light claimed to represent Irish ‘sex worker’ activists:

Turn Off the Blue Light is a grassroots movement ….We are a sex worker led association campaigning against calls to criminalize the purchase of sex, and for the health, safety, human, civil and labor rights of sex workers in Ireland...

But look who’s actually running the Blue Light campaign. It’s backed by convicted pimp Peter McCormick, who makes millions annually via prostitution websites, his son who was convicted of running six brothels, convicted pimp TJ Carroll, who used voodoo rituals to terrify trafficked African women, and convicted pimp Tony Linnane who was connected with an incident where a woman was “threatened with being burned alive after gasoline was thrown on her.”  Mihai Selaru, who humiliated a woman he pimped by starving her and forcing her to lick his shoes, was also connected.

I’m sure there are well-meaning people working within these sex worker activist groups. I hope they find a way to continue their work in organizations free from this shocking conflict of interest.   Women in prostitution deserve activist groups that don’t silence survivors or promote sex industry agendas.

So what’s the solution?  Pimp-affiliated groups such as the IUSW, SPOC, SWOP USA, COYOTE, the Erotic Services Providers’ Union and PONY must disband and reform as new organizations that are free of “management” members.  Any organization claiming to advocate for women in prostitution that receives federal money or collects donations on our behalf must sever ties with all groups where this conflict of interest exists.  Otherwise they are supporting the suppression of survivor voices.

Meanwhile we should all advocate for services to help women exit prostitution.  They need safe housing, medical care, education, and trauma treatment including EMDR and mindfulness training.  They are precious and they need to know we care.  They will never know this as long as the academics and NGO’s continue to cooperate with organizations like the IUSW, SPOC and others who, bizarrely and disgustingly, include  pimps and/or Johns in their ranks.

I wrote this piece for the Survivors View.

Survivors Must Lead the Anti-Trafficking Movement

9 May

stella marr, survivors connect, human trafficking, feminism, prostitution, sex work, restitution, ptsd, trauma recovery, swanee hunt, demand abolition

Survivors Connect Network, an international online network of trafficking/prostitution survivors, now has 44 members from seven different countries. It’s been recognized that the absence of survivor leaders in most major anti-trafficking NGOs has created a void. Survivor knowledge and insight is essential. With survivor leadership the movement’s success would be inevitable.   Demand Abolition recently set an example by inviting seven survivors to participate in their Arresting Demand colloquium May 3rd and 4th in Boston. We are extraordinarily grateful.

An exciting example of collaboration among survivor groups involves the Bedford case. Sister survivors in the Aboriginal Women’s Action NetworkEducating VoicesLaCLES, and SexTrade101 have been valiantly educating the public about the harms of the Bedford ruling — which upholds the criminalization of prostitutes on the street — who are almost always crime victims- while it empowers and legitimizes their predators, the male and female pimps who own brothels and escort services.

So we survivors recently voted to issue a statement against the Bedford decision. Dozens of us joining our voices in political action is a big deal. Here’s the statement:

We the members of Survivors Connect Network stand with the women of the Aboriginal Women’s Action NetworkSexTrade101La Concertation des Luttes Contre L’Exploitation Sexuelle (CLES), and Educating Voices. We are sad and shocked by the Bedford ruling. It’s especially troubling that this decision upholds the criminalization of prostitutes selling sex on the street, as these women are almost always traumatized crime victims who need support not arrest. Meanwhile the ruling empowers the male and female pimps who terrorize and exploit women in prostitution by making it legal to own brothels or escort services.

Researchers have found the women in prostitution suffer from the same levels of trauma symptoms as the victims of state-sponsored torture. It forever changes how we face the world. After going through trafficking/prostitution everything you do is an act of will — you must summon and form a new self from your fragments. And yet as the survivors of torture or trafficking/prostitution rebuild our selves and find our voice, we can develop extraordinary abilities to connect with, inspire, and understand others.

Nelson Mandela exemplifies this type of rebirth. Most everyone understands that Mandela’s experiencesof being held 27 years in a prison infamous for torture make him unique. When he was finally released few denied the vast injustice done to him. No one expected him to act like everyone else. Instead South Africa and the world stepped back, and waited to see how this extraordinary man would transform the terrible wrongs he’d been through — they gave him a chance to bring something new into being.

As more trafficking/prostitution survivors speak out, the public will recognize we’re people society has wronged. They’ll understand we’ve been changed by the pain and harshness we’ve experienced. At present public denial of the sex industry’s violence and prostitute-blaming forces many of us into hiding. But as more survivors lead, we’ll be empowered to bring something new and beautiful into being.

Trafficking Survivor Writer & Artist Christine Stark

25 Apr

human trafficking, prostitution, christine stark, dissociation, dissociative identity disorder, sexual abuse, native american, ojibwe, minnesota

My sister trafficking/prostitution survivor Christine Stark is an extraordinary writer, poet and visual artist. Her new novel, Nickels A Tale of Dissociation, has been named a finalist for the Annual Lambda Literary Awards, 2011.

In a recent interview with the Bozeman Times Chris discusses what it means to be a survivor:

This is a book most immediately for and about abuse survivors, but it should not be limited to that audience in the same way that, say, James Baldwin should not be limited to gay, African American readers. Everyone can relate to the protagonist because although some of her experiences are specific, there are universal themes in the book, including love and joy and play. A lot of writing and activist work around sexual exploitation wants to focus on just the miserable, abusive aspects of the victims/survivors’ lives, but I feel that does a great disservice. It removes agency from those being hurt, and it can stereotype survivors, reducing them to one-dimensional victims such that “victim” becomes everything about them, thus stripping them of their full humanity.

Nickels is an honest portrayal of someone who must fight like hell just to live; but also, at the same time, takes risk to love and be responsible for a mess that was not her own doing but that she cannot escape. That is one of the most unjust things about abuse: the abused must live with, to one degree or another, the ramifications of the abuser’s actions. She cannot be absolved of responsibility, by spending X number of months in a prison, or visiting a religious leader, or doing penance in some other way. The aftereffects are always present, always causing tremendous pain and confusion and distancing, and often poverty, homelessness, depression, and more abuse. There is always hope, and many do get away and heal, but thanks to Post Traumatic Stress, the past becomes present, often at the most misopportune times. Characters and people do heal, so that the trauma lessens and becomes manageable, but it does not happen overnight. Healing occurs over years, and many of those years are very difficult and painful and confusing.

Read more

A Sex Trafficking Survivor’s Letter to Her Younger Self

2 Mar

Stella Marr, my body the city, prostitution, sex work, younger self, trauma, new york, manhattan, columbia university, human trafficking, sex worker, prostitution, sexual exploitation

Dear twenty-year old Stella,

Work hard on learning to ask for help.  It’s the only way you’ll ever  break free.  No one ever does anything alone.  You don’t have to.

You’ll learn how to make the men happy.  The happier they are the nicer they treat you.  You’ll get very good at being a hooker.  But when the Johns say “baby you were born for this” that doesn’t mean its true.

Now when most men come near you  feel a stabbing at your eyes, your throat, and your gut that you know isn’t real.  You don’t want to admit it but you’re terrified.  You start, you tremble.  Your hands shake.  Think about it, you’re being stabbed a lot these days.  This is a quite reasonable reaction to being used by man after man, day after day, in this prison of a brothel.  It doesn’t mean you are so miserably flawed that you can’t do anything but prostitution.

Being sold for sex doesn’t make you subhuman.  It’s not OK for your (white) pimps to smack you and tell you they’ll kill you.

You have to work up the nerve to pay a cashier for a soda.  You’re too scared to ask that guy behind the deli counter to make you a sandwich.   This isn’t weakness, it’s biology.  Trauma changes your brain.    Your hippocampus, where you form narrative memory in the brain, shrinks.  This is a symptom of PTSD —  a neurophysiologic response to repetitive trauma –not evidence that you deserve to be in prostitution.

In the middle of the winter in the middle of the night when that guy in the Doubletree suite invites you to sit while he pours you a seltzer trust your gut and back out of there before the five guys you can’t see who are waiting in the bedroom have a chance to get between you and the door.

Being vulnerable means you’re alive.   There’s no shame in it.  It doesn’t mean you’re a terrible person.  You don’t have to apologize for doing what you must to survive.

When Samantha tries to stop working for your pimp Johnny.  make her get out of the city.  Otherwise two weeks later Nicole, the madam who works with Johnny,  will show you Samantha’s diamond initial ring and tell you Johnny murdered her.  Though you’ll always hope she was lying, you doubt it.

You’ve lost all sense of the linear — time  disappeared and you felt it leave.  Now you’re living in the immediate and eternity.  It’s scary and bewildering, but you need this — you need each moment to stretch infinitely so that you can be acutely aware of each man’s tiny movements and shifts in expression,  which can reveal a threat before it happens.  This hyperawareness will save your life.  One day you’ll see this being untethered from time as a kind of grace.

When that shiny classical pianist you meet at Au Bon Pain says he wants to know everything about you don’t believe him.

A lot of what’s happening doesn’t make sense now but it will later.  That habit you have of writing poems in your mind to the beloved you haven’t met yet, as you’re riding in cabs to calls?  There’s something to it.

Your ability to perceive beauty is part of your resilience and survival.  When a man is on top of you watch the wind-swirled leaves out his window.  Seize the gusty joy you feel as you run three blocks to a bodega to buy condoms between calls at 3 AM.  When you think for a minute you see that friend,  who’s death you never got over,  standing in the brassy light under a weeping linden, be grateful.  All this has a purpose.

Being in prostitution can seem to mean you’ve lost everything you hoped to be, but that’s not true.  You’ve splintered into a million pieces, but you’re still you. You’re alive.    It’s in the spaces between those pieces where you learn to feel how other people are feeling.  It hurts so much you’re sure it’ll kill you, but it won’t.  Later when you’re out of the life it’ll be so easy to be happy.  The mundane will buoy you.

When your madam sends you to the Parker Meridien at 3 AM and you meet a British professor who says he wants to help you, believe him.  He will set you up in a beautiful condominium across from Lincoln Center that he deeds in your name.  Of course you’ll have everything to do with this — you are so “good” at being a “hooker,: so “good” at fucking that you can make a guy want to buy you a condo.  Shame is a hollow stone in the throat.

During the two years that this voracious man ‘keeps’ you as his private prostitute the condo will come to feel like a platinum trap.  But it’s still your chance to get out and heal. Take it.

After you’ve sold the condominium and are living in a graduate dorm at Columbia University, a man with eyes like blue shattered glass will sit beside you in the cafeteria.  When he begins to speak you know he’s the unmet beloved you’ve been writing poems to all these years.  You’ll try to run away, but he won’t let you.  Fourteen years later the two of you will be hiking through pink granite outcroppings with your Labrador retriever.  You’ll  feel like the freest woman in the world.

One afternoon when you’re twenty-one you’ll be at the Museum of Metropolitan of Art with your best friend Gabriel, who’s a hustler, a male prostitute.  When he says you ‘remind him of his death’, don’t lash back.  Even though he told you the doctor said he didn’t have that rare new virus named AIDS, it would behoove you to realize he’s still coughing.

Stop thinking about your own hurt.  Don’t lash back with that phrase your mother’s said to you so many times  –” I hope you die a slow death.”  Don’t tell Gabriel  you never want to see him again and storm out of the  sculpture gallery.   Or it will be the last time you see him.  Gabriel will die of AIDS five months later.  When he said you reminded him of ‘his own death’ he was trying to tell you he was dying.   You’ll regret what you said for the rest of your life.  But even more you’ll regret running away from his friendship.

Say forgive me.

Say I love you.

Stay connected.

Love,

Stella

P.S.  I’m sure my mom learned to say “I hope you die a slow death” from her dad.

This is a tribute to Cheryl Strayed‘s transcendent letter to her younger self.  Her letter’s form gave me a pitcher that I filled with my life.  A big shout out to Dublin Call Girl who’s thank you letter to punters is already a classic.