We’ll never be free.
We are too strong a tool, too great a force. We are there in the beds, in the arms, in the heads – of all the worlds men, those most powerful men.
And we are tools of them all – but for sex least of all – more for the secrets we learn, the plans we know, told by men whose weaknesses we see laid bare, right before our naked eyes.
“Sex class” some may call us, but we are the control class, the tool class – and the CRIMINALIZED “institution of prostitution” – as they call it – is the toolshed keeping us all nicely ordered and ready for use.
If we are let out of the shed – to lead lives of our own – they lose their tools. Their most precious, most useful tools.
Everyone has a part – to keep the toolshed locked up tight, it’s the most important door in the world to keep locked. With no tools, they have nothing. They’ll never stop watching, won’t ever stop checking that the door is locked.
They keep us trapped, with no words to communicate the strength of our ‘empowerment’, and under attack the whole time, on all sides, from ‘friend’ and foe alike. Attacked by those who know our status as tool and want to keep it that way.
Their army is full of those who merely follow – who’ve been listening to lies that say we are better off in the shed – kept there forever – for our own good. If only those people would stop believing the lies… don’t they hear us?
Can’t they hear us yelling and screaming to be let out? Don’t they hear?
Can’t they smell the stench as our bodies die, and pile up in here, decaying in the fetid dark?
Stuck in this shed! Forgotten by history! No burial, no announcement, no respect. No headstone says Whore. Daughter, Wife, Mother, Whore. We loved them all.
Separate those women, the daughters, the wives, the mothers. The whores. They are not all the same – would that mother leave a daughter to rot in a shed? Likely not, but just a whore – she may – if we convince her that daughters and whores are never embodied together. They teach the difference between women and the tools of whore, just to make sure the tools stay locked.
Daughters are not whores, Wives are not whores, Mothers are not whores, Women are not whores. Only whores are whores, they teach.
And mothers and daughters and wives and all women still suffer as the whores suffer and they still ask why. Can’t they see – they are trapped in that shed too. We are all whores.
No they say. They say we must kill the whore within us, and be women, as women. Don’t they know that the whore lives in them? And the only way to eradicate ‘whore’, is to eradicate women?
They don’t believe, and they become the guards of the shed. Passing some tender thing in through the gap beneath the door, to hear us squeal with delight at the pittance. The guard feels righteous and kind for giving tender things to the whores who are trapped in the shed. But still, the guard guards, and still we want to be free.
Won’t the guard believe? Won’t they ever believe? Will they wait until it’s too late like so many others before, who finally saw, only too late? Once the strength is gone from their body and the numbers have gone from their ranks, seeing what’s true doesn’t matter, when there’s little strength left to fight.
And by then, a new army of the young is positioned outside the door of the shed – and who has the strength to fight an army of youth? Pitiful few old whores, that’s who.
We are the eternal scapegoat – the blame tool – destroyers of reputations, of careers, of states, of nations, of worlds, of gods.
Why on earth would they ever let us out?