Yes I live on the streets !

Please don’t judge me. I know exactly what I am doing for a living. I was never in doubt of the consequence except that life happened too fast and I became convinced that life gave me cold ashes. So I had to take my chances on life, after all I will be around only for a short while. Is it really my choice to become a sex worker? To some they can’t think of anything apart from greed while others think I became what I am because certain persons in my life failed me. I am not here to put the blame on anyone or my society. I just want to tell my story.

I am the girl in your mirror running from the time I came to know myself. Unfortunately a man I trusted knew me before I could define my life. He made away with my priceless possession, no remorse but evil denial of his covert deed. I listened to his constant arrogance through a decade claiming that he saved me from a dark prophecy on my future. Things can’t be darker now.

In creating a morally correct society, are we leaving out the most important subject? To what gains can ostracizing bring to a society that keeps hurting the vulnerable ones. Is violence justified because I am social misfit according to some standards that is marred in hypocrisy? A society that proves time and again its inability to evolve its definition and core norms do not understand anything about the power of people to change. If justice is not served it’s because they designed a system that divides rather than concatenate.

Who is more violent to a sex worker, the assailant or the society? Let’s pause and think this through. The society has successfully defined me but won’t accept that there can be violence when it comes to sex let alone to a sex worker. I saw everything that could possibly go wrong in the way my father treated my mum. She was never respected when it came to her body and dignity. The baton has been passed on to the next generation of assailants and victims.

The doctor said it’s been three days that I was brought into the ward unconscious and battling for life. I have woken up with excruciating pains in torso area and below. I really don’t remember what happened except that I tried to run from my assailant. He was too powerful and maybe evil. To show that he was malevolent, he pushed hard at me and wanted to have his wayward journey. The same society that now gives me sticks did not deem it fit to teach him that a ‘no’ means a ‘no’. Another one would say he was taught these things but we can’t draw the same parallel here. When did human life differ according to colour, race, gender, persuasions et cetera?

Maybe I have learnt some lessons and I won’t be on the street anytime soon. Does it matter that I am just one story in an omnibus of abuse and violence. Who will speak for us because we are no less humans too? Beyond stopping the violence, why is the barrier so impossible to cross for some of us that want to leave the arena of ‘no love’?

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