Member-only story
I Was Raped and Assaulted While Selling Sex
When the Body Becomes Merchandise, Who Protects the Soul?
She was 24 when she decided to go back.
Not out of addiction, not for pleasure, but because life had pushed her up against the wall and selling her own body seemed like the only way out. Jane — not her real name, of course — started at 18, stopped, and then returned when her health failed and the money ran out.
“You don’t work many hours and you get quite a bit of money,” she told journalists. But then she added something that should make us stop and think: “but it isn’t worth the risk involved.”
What risks?
Theft. Assault.
Rape. Attempted rape.
And she still considers herself lucky.
Let me be clear: I’m not here to judge anyone. Not Jane, not the women who make this choice, not even the men who pay for sex.
I’m here to tell you a story that made me question everything I thought I knew about dignity, about choice, about what it means to be human in a society that pretends not to see.
