Prostitution and Humanity
Are we All Victims?
Many years ago, I read a story about a man in India who’d raped an Untouchable girl. The girl was young, maybe 8 or 9. She was scared. The man confessed to raping her. When asked about it, he admitted he’d seen how terrified she was. But he didn’t care. Because he she didn’t matter.
She was an Untouchable after all. They’re not really human, are they?
I recalled that story while reading about prostitution in Ireland a couple of days ago. The article quoted reviews left online by men. The language was horrifying in its objectification of the girls. Few acknowledged the sex worker as a human being rather than a product, an object, a piece of meat.
When a girl complained about painful sex, she got a bad review. Because she was paid, it’s understood that her enjoyment is optional but apparently it goes beyond that — she has lost her right to not experience pain.
Do the men know the names of the whores they visit? Do they know if they like Rihanna or the color blue or rainy weather? No, of course not.
This isn’t necessarily a bad thing. I don’t remember the name of the guy who fixed my hot water heater or whether the cashier who scanned my items last night likes indie flicks. Who knows anything about the people who produce our food or make our…
