This is another collection of #MeToo stories of the sex trade that we’ve received through our Share Your Story page.
“That was the end of my life and the start of the trafficking for the next two years. No sleep, hardly eating. Working all day and all night. Getting beaten all the time by pimp and johns. Johns were more dangerous than the pimp sometimes. Did the math and almost slept with an entire football stadium full of people. Disgusting. Made him millions and never touched a penny.”
Grew up in a chaotic, alcoholic, poor home in Buffalo, NY.
Moved to low income projects at 9 years old.
Molested by downstairs neighbor Mr. Beebe.
My friends as well.
Mr. Beebe took us to a place called ‘Lost Nation.’
Girls and boys in Nature and Naked.
My Friend’s brother saw pictures of his naked sister being passed around.
He pocketed one of the pictures and gave it to his Mother.
Mother reported to the Police.
It was humiliating then and still is to this day.
Beebe went to jail.
Beebe was my Niagara Falls word.
There were a couple of high school romances.
I wanted more from life.
Tried to commit suicide during this time. 16 years old.
Graduated high school 1970.
Started to travel a bit.
Miami, FL for a summer 1970.
Met our first pimps.
Hung out with them for drugs and good times.
After a couple of months, I head back up to Buffalo.
Didn’t want school. Wanted a good job/money.
Cleaned telephone booths in Buffalo. Lasted one day, maybe two.
Quit and flew up to Los Angeles, CA.
Ended up in West Hollywood.
That’s when I worked in massage parlors around town.
I tried to stay straight at first but my roommates made lots mo’ money than me.
I gave in and started doing coke and speed to cope with my emotions.
Just numb most of the time.
Ended up enlisting in the US Navy.
My life began to get a pulse again.
I am one Grateful Bitch.
Thank you for asking.
I was 17 when I was tricked into going to a party at college where no one ended up being there except an older man. He was nice to me and wanted to take me to dinner. I declined but he would not refuse. The next day he called and called me, asking to get together. I finally gave in.
He said we would go to dinner. Instead we went to the track and he shoved me out of the car and said make my money #$@!*%. I tried to run but he caught me stuck a gun in my mouth beat me and said if I didn’t make his money he would kill me.
That was the end of my life and the start of the trafficking for the next two years. No sleep, hardly eating. Working all day and all night. Getting beaten all the time by pimp and johns. Johns were more dangerous than the pimp sometimes. Did the math and almost slept with an entire football stadium full of people. Disgusting. Made him millions and never touched a penny.
Was arrested six times under my real name with six warrants out for my arrest, and at least 30 other times under fake names. Never got addicted to drugs but everyone around me was. Got out by God’s grace.
Got to call my mom here and there while he listened in so she wouldn’t call the cops on me. She said she was going on vacation to visit family friends. When I hung up. He asked me did I want to go. Trick question because either way he would come up with a reason to beat me. So I just said yes. He told me to call her back and get me a ticket. Still it didn’t matter. He had ripped up a ticket in my face before.
The day came and he actually let me go. But I was extremely brainwashed at this time so really I had no chance of freeing myself in a week. But God stepped in. It snowed 6ft and I had to stay two weeks. My wall started to come down and I started to realize this was my only out. I knew I couldn’t go back. God had shown me a door I could finally see.
I never went back. The pimp came to my house and tried to take me back but he was too high and when we said we would call the cops, he ran. That was that. Then six years later I went back to court and cleared my name of all the warrants.
I grew up in a European country with Dreams and Needs just like all the young Girls of my age.
However, I had to literally Fuck with old men in Paris, Rome, Oslo, Athens, Istanbul and Dubaï to realise my Dreams. Because my parents could not help me to realize my Dreams. They are poor.
I took pills and alcohol whenever they fucked me like I was a human being without feelings and needs of love, empathy and compassionate giving.
However, there was this young man. I called him my hero. He warned me of the dangers of the prostitution business, he helped me to realize my Dreams and liberated me spiritually and physically. Long did it take me to understand that there are men in this world who are willing to manifest nonviolent communication in our world. And never will I forget the day – it was Christmas Eve in Paris – when he broke the ice in my life.
Prostitution is violence and I hate these men what they did to me. But my hero brought the light of change in my life and now I have a new life and never will one of these losers ever touch my precious body.
F… you, Punter
My first trick was with a café manager on SW 6th in downtown Portland. A sense of power and validation came over me with the easy money, sex and attention and with that I found my calling ‘in the life.’
I lived through the violence, through the drugs to cope, running from other pimps who tried to ‘catch’ as they called it when they drug you and then own you. Eventually I had a pimp who was 30 years old and was with for a couple of years.
My life of prostitution on the streets slowed down with multiple arrests. The last arrest was five charges, two of felonies, carrying drugs and three counts of prostitution. I was looking at two years in prison. Lawyer and judge put me in Portland Job Corps through the government. If I was terminated or quit I would of went straight to prison to serve my sentence. It did not stop the behavior of taking 4 regular tricks I had to keep me with having to keep money. After leaving my pimp he got through security at Job Corp and brought a pistol and was going to kill me. He got away obviously because I am still here!
Throughout the 80s I survived a failed marriage of domestic violence but continued to have regular clientele of tricks no matter where I lived or what I was doing.
In 1988 I moved from California to Portland again and got addicted to crack cocaine. Got clean in 1994. While clean I found out about my other addiction – to money – or the other ‘behavior’ and personally chose to enrol at Council for Prostitution Alternatives in 1996 with a couple of years clean. I attended for a year faithfully, graduated and never turned another trick EVER!
I learned that it was not my fault as a minor. I learned that I did not have to feel guilty or be ashamed of myself.
Due to another failed marriage, due to the relapse of alcohol abuse, I left and divorced after 15 years of marriage, got sober and at four years clean in a 12-step program I decided to start a support group just for survivors and victims of sex trafficking. I listened and watched in the fellowship and heard the hidden issues. But foremost I understood it!
As a former CSE victim AND former prostitute. I can tell you that living in regular society is brutal. It’s easier to just go back, make the living, save, and then become a hermit and avoid the so called real world. There is a ton of abuse in the real world too. To which do you stay? The abusive real world where you struggle to fit in (sadly) and make little to no money (trauma invades and triggered everywhere,) or the sex industry where you fit in (sadly) and make enough money to survive better (and possibly even make enough to get real therapy that isn’t the abusive community type).
I see both sides. The answer isn’t so simple. There are a tremendous amount of bullies, fakes, manipulators, know-it-alls and abusers in the normal world. In the sex industry it’s straight forward. You know what’s up. You’re not blind-sided by someone who pretends to understand and care… and then does you in some how. (Revictimization either way… all day everyday.)
Hard choice. Either way you’re fucked.
Share your story
If you’ve been in the sex trade, or have been affected by it in other less direct ways, and would like to share your story anonymously, we’d love to hear from you.