My Prostitution Toothache

So this morning when I woke up I had an expceptionally bad toothache.  Now aside from the early morning scramble to find a tube of oragel it was a particularly stressful day because I keep replaying in my mind the scene in which the toothache began. My toothache is a direct result of an exceptionally bad injury and sustained when I was still under the control of my first pimp.  He was by far the worst of them all. Always angry and a drug problem that you wouldn’t believe. 
I can’t tell you what he was mad about that day because when I think back I never really know what he was angry about.  It was always something that pertained to me being stupid or incompetent or not good enough.
This particular day was that like every other.  I had a couple dates, made some money, and he was very very mad.  He was shouting and screaming in the face and I was trembling for my life.  If I screamed and cried it would only get worse and he would call me weak.  He was one of those people that paced he got mad so you would have to follow him from room to room.  I do not remember how the argument started but my memory starts when we were in the living room.  He was holding me by my throat, dangling me in mid air and I couldn’t breathe.  I was flailimg like a fish out of water, gagging for air.  I stopped moving and I was almost dead but he let me go just in time.  I was incredibly dizzy but he was screaming for me to get off the floor. I tried multiple times to push my body up but it was too weak and I kept slamming my head into the ground because my head would not allow me to pick it up.  He was yelling at me more because he thought I was slamming my head on purpose because he knows I had a self injury problem. I hit my head five maybe six times when I could finally get up he was still yelling and I followed him to the bathroom. When I look in the mirror I had bruises all over my forehead and they faded into bruises from a broken nose I had from the week before.  Eventually I took a roundhouse kick to the left side of my face.  My jaw snapped like a tree and my tooth cracked. Once again I fell to the floor and my face was in a searing pain. I started crying even though that’s typically not allowed in the stable. I was screaming bloody murder and he had realized what he done. I couldn’t open my mouth and my face was swollen 2 times its size. I didn’t even recognize the girl in the mirror with so many bruises. To this day my smile is still crooked but I know how big I am allowed to smile before anyone notices. Most people would be upset by being kicked in the face like this but I was relieved because once he hurts me that badly that means the argument was over. We attempted to go smoke some weed to calm down after all of this but I bit the inside of my lip and it stung to hit the bowl.  He had to hit the bowl and blow the smoke into my mouth if I wanted to get high. And I promise you this day I needed to get high. I wasn’t going to go to the hospital so we went to the mob doctor instead and he snapped my jaw back into place. It took days for the swelling to go down and I couldn’t even work. I tried to take a date once but he walked out because my face was horrible. I wasn’t worth his time or money with my disfigurement.
The cracking of my tooth went unnoticed for the most part. I knew my tooth was hurt but with the other injuries it was the least of my worries.  I walked around with my cracked tooth for 3 years and it never hurt.  About 7 months ago I bit into an apple in half of the tooth came out.  It still didnt hurt but I freaked out when I reached to the back of my mouth and half of my tooth was gone.  Over the past 7 months it is only hurt once in awhile but over the past few weeks it’s starting to catch up. I know I’ll have to go to the dentist soon and possibly have it removed to work app.  But until then I have this nasty little reminder in the back of my mouth about how disgusting this game really is.

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http://www.hawaiinewsnow.com/story/22650276/exclusive-military-takes-over-probe-of-oahu-homicide

Amazing Update Regarding the Murder or Ivy Harris. Justice for You, Ivy Amazing Update Regarding the Murder or Ivy Harris. Justice for You, Ivy ❤

The murder of Ivy had an effect on all of Oahu, but especially those of us work “The Game”, the nickname given to Honolulu’s Sex Trade.  That night more than 100 girls walked “The Track”, the nickname given to the streets in Waikiki prostitutes and law enforcement are known to frequent (it’s the most popular tourist destination in Hawaii, more than a million people, tourists and locals alike, pass through the area a day.)  Another several hundred of us girls where sold over the internet that same night in that same area.  I was one of them.  It could have been me, or any one of the other girls.  My hotel that I was tricking out of was but one street over from where Ivy was picked up.  After police arresting Cosby, they let him go without charges due to lack of evidence, even though we all know he is guilty.  Everyone was deeply upset.  But last night on KHON news, they finally gave an update, the Military Police have picked up the case.  Justice for you, Ivy.  We are all praying for answers.

The Call I Have Been Waiting For…Sort Of..

Within the last ten minutes I received a call from my advocate.  Honolulu Police Department is almost sure that they have tracked down my pimp and are following him until they are sure it is him to arrest him before he leaves for Las Vegas tomorrow.  They asked if I had any definitive description of him that may help make the positive identification.  He has no visible scars of tattoos…so it’s not very easy.

I have been waiting for this call for three weeks…but now that I have got it, I am not as settled as I would like to be.  I am more than happy to be out of the game, but as someone who has done a few short stints in Jail, I would never want to put anyone there.  I have been trained to not be a ‘snitch’.  I would be lying if I didn’t secretly hope that he made it to Vegas without getting caught.  I do not want to stand up against him in court.

I do not want to look at him in the face and be the reason you go to jail for so long.  We have been through things together, ya know?  In a sense, for a very long time he has taken care of me.  He was the nicest pimp I ever had.  He didn’t hit me or abuse me.  We had a level of understanding…I won’t run or snitch or steal and you don’t hurt me or threaten me.  Aside from being my pimp, I can say that we are somewhat friends.  I have been in the Game a long time and I have a deeper understanding of it that he shares with me that a lot of the newer…and dumber girls don’t have.

I got this call and I am very anxious.  I do not know if I feel good about this.  It is actually making me a little sick.  I imagine that I will not sleep tonight.  I don’t know if I will have to go to the station and identify him, but I imagine that I will.  At what point will he know I am the one that snitched?

I was one of his most loved and trusted girls, and I feel very unloyal.  This goes against anything in the Game I have ever been taught.  He even boasted after I disappeared that “she(me) isn’t a snitch and can be trusted”.  It makes me feel pretty guilty for defying someone that has put so much trust within me.

I am very anxious right now.  Especially since he has not yet been arrested and they are just watching and following someone they believe to be him.  A little sense of relief will come when he is arrest I am sure but at the same time it is going to open up a whole new world of things….ugh…I didn’t think it would be this hard…but at the same time I did…

An Open Letter to Men Who Would Buy Me

Dear John,

If you like sex…that’s okay.  If you love women…that’s normal.  If you are a good man, listen up.  If you are a man who thinks it is okay to buy women for sex…this is to you.  If you think that you are paying for sex in a “mutually beneficial” arrangement, think again.  If you think you are “helping me” in any way…I am directing this at you.  If you are a evil man who treats women with disrespect, feel free to disregard.  This is letter to all of those johns who consider themselves a “good” man.

I have met so many of you.  Too many.  In all shapes and sizes.  Old men, young men.  Fat, skinny, married, single, drug dealers, lawyers, police officers, I have seen them all.  You are not special.  Not one of you.  I do not understand how you justify yourself.  You think putting your penis inside of me is okay because you are kind.  Those places are the most private part of me.  And even though they are for sale, they were never meant to be.  I never wanted them to be.  Could you ever see your daughter in this business?  No?  Guess what,  I am someone’s daughter, too.

That money that you give me?  You’re not paying me.  You’re paying some man just as disgusting as you are.  You buy me like property in a store.  You compare my looks to the looks of the girls next to me and decide that I am most your type.  Before you bought my like a doll behind closed plastic did you ever once stop to think that there is a human being with a mind, heart and soul of their own behind that body that you lust for so much?

You think you are okay.  You didn’t hit me or rob me.  You didn’t roofie my drink.  You asked me how my day was going.  Maybe you asked me how I got caught up in this…here’s a hint, I lied to you.  You stroked my hair and gave me a back massage.  Maybe even got me to smile.  Here’s another hint…I’m the best actress you have ever met.

But you never asked about my scars.  You never asked about the bruises, and the burns.  Or maybe you did.  Some of you ask if someone is hurting me.  Did you ever take a look in the mirror as you asked this?  Because there is someone right there.  You are the sweet, kind rapist.  A victimless crime, you say?  The damage is unreversable.  Damage that you as well as the man after you and the man after him all helped to cause.  You call yourself my friend…you bring me gifts from time to time.  I hate you all the same.  My smile allows you to trick yourself.  Why do you think they call it a trick anyway?

Sure, maybe you lost a few dollars.  I had to dish out something too.  I had to swallow my pride.  Fake a laugh.  And pretend that I don’t feel like it’s rape every time you penetrate me.  You think because you hold me after that it doesn’t hurt so bad…but it’s even worse.  Don’t hold me like I am yours because I am someone else’s.  He treats me like property, just like you.  And he paid a lot more for me than you did.  He is probably hiding in the next room over.  Your warm, sweet embrace makes me even more sick than when you were pounding away at my body…and more importantly, my sanity.

Everybody loves me, but nobody loves me.  Do you understand that?  I know you do.  Because you love me, but you don’t love me.  You have fooled yourself into thinking that your sweet demeanor makes you less harmful.  And that since I smile or laugh, that you are not so bad.  You think I enjoyed your company just as much as you enjoyed mine.

You say you are a “good man”.  The words I speak could never pertain to you.  Open your ears.  And next time you meet a girl like me…ask yourself not how she got there, but who put her there.  Who is benefiting from her having sex with you…because it is not her.  If you look in her eyes and don’t see your daughter than you are just as sick as the man before you.  and the man who most certainly will come after.  If you have convinced yourself that your actions are warranted and that you are not hurting anyone…than the trick worked on you after all.  Welcome to the Game, buddy.

From,

That Girl You Say You Never Hurt

Murder of Ivy on May 16

Before I start on my story I want to share the story of Ivy…
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Ivy was a traveling working girl.  Although she was a resident of Portland, Oregan she frequently visited Oahu, Hawaii a lot.  She was last seen on the morning of May 16 at 2:15 am at bar right on The Track of Waikiki.  When the initial reports came out Police reported that it was an unattended death of a tourist here for her birthday.  Yeah bullshit.
She left the bar with a date and her body was discovered on the Waianae Coast some time later.  Her brother was interviewed and came forward and admitted that she had worked as an escort.
On the underground side of things her pimp and fellow working sisters were freaking out.  Although there are many violent, very mean pimps in this area (referred to as gorilla pimps), she had a finesse pimp.  The type that is nicer and takes care if you.  They had a pretty good relationship.  Ivy’s pimp contacted one of the Prostitution Outreach programs and even though he knew that their job is help get girls out of the game and that this agency often works on cooperation with law enforcement (LE is the abbreviation in the trick world) he cared about her enough to call and relay information to them that her phone had not been used since the time she left with her very last date.  The man that she was with claimed that he had left her safe and sound after four am.  This information was passed from this agency over to the police and raised many suspicions that were already in place.  This is not public knowledge, don’t ask how I know all of that.
An arrest was finally made a few days ago.  It was the very last date that she saw.  He is an active military marine.  He has been charged with second degree murder.  Hopefully they have enough to pin this bastard and put him away for years.  Working girls go through enough and no one deserves to die.  No one has said yet what information led to his arrest but The Game thinks it had to so with a craigslist post involving the selling of what it believed to be jewelry that he stole from her after killing her.  He was arrested at the airport.  Ivy had just turned 29 years old.  May you rest in peace Ivy.

Even for Honolulu Escorts that didn’t know her, it still shook their world. There were hundreds of girls working the Waikiki Track that night and it could have been anyone of them that got the date that ended their life. I was on the track that night…it could have been me.

Every one is maintaining that there is no proof that Ivy was an escort.  Understand that prostitution is mostly accepted in Hawaii, hence why The Game here is so big and so dangerous.  Police at the bottom are paid off.  And up until only a few years ago, even violent pimping was simply a misdemeanor.  When heat gets too hot they will arrest a cop for the rape of a track girl.  Well that honestly happens about every night so whatever.  Steps are being taken to get law enforcement to take human trafficking more seriously.  Maybe if they did Ivy would still be alive.

For more information on Ivy’s murder and arrest of Nathan Cosby see http://www.khon2.com/2013/06/05/suspect-arrested-in-tourists-murder-family-hoping-for-answers/.

I will update this post as more information becomes available
If any of my information is wrong (and it isn’t) feel free to send me an email and I will happily correct it.

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UPDATE.  NATHANIEL COSBY HAS BEEN RELEASED FROM JAIL DUE TO LACK OF EVIDENCE.  THE POLICE DO HAVE A VIDEO SURVEILLANCE TAPE OF HIM WALKING OUT OF HIS HOTEL WITH A LARGE BAG THE NIGHT OF IVY’S MURDER AND ARE CURRENTLY TESTING IT FOR DNA.  HOPEFULLY SOMETHING WILL COME OF IT.

Welcome To The Game

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This is a poem I wrote, and a great way to introduce to focus of my blog. I call it “Welcome To The Game”

I was only 14 when I was taken away
No more childhood, no more time to play
Manipulated by the words of an evil man
Telling me he loved me was just part of his plan
We were all shot up with GHB
So drugged and confused with no way to flea
Make up all done and dressed like a whore
Thrown in a van, forced to lay on the floor
A ten minute drive and then we were there
I was pulled inside by the strings of my hair
It was a dark room and I stood centerstage
And sold to a man over three times my age
When we got to his house he said “sex not rape”
And it was all recorded so I stole the tape
After smoking Meth he stabbed me all high
Bruised and bleeding on the carpet, I wanted to die
I thought of the things that I had once had
And I cried out loud for my mom and my dad
After being groomed I took date after date
And by this time I had accepted my fate
He killed my best friend in front of my eyes
And I was so scared I backed up his lies
I was sure I was next and begged him not to shoot
Welcome to the life of a child prostitute
After getting dressed up, I would go walk the track
Never bringing less than a thousand dollars back
Seven thousand five hundred was my price to be traded
My new pimp was nicer and my bruises had faded
Instead of the track I was pimped out online
I started to think everything would be fine
Somehow I became a prostitute star
And made to believe that I would go far
I become the second girl from the top
That’s a good place to be so why try to stop?
But eventually he had gotten busted
Snitched on by some girls that he trusted
We were arrested together, he and I
And I covered him in a well practiced lie
When I went on probation, relief finally came
I was moved out of state and out of the game
But I made a mistake and I had to come back
When I got on the plane I had a panic attack
In only two days word was that I was back around
And after twenty four hours, I had been found
I went back to the one that was least violent of all
Trickin again, I could feel myself fall
The dates pay you in cash or drugs
They shower you with kind words and hugs
Pretending to want sex when you don’t is like the worst thing
You don’t understand the pain that can bring
In less than six weeks I couldn’t even tell you the year
Because the game is based on confusion and fear
God answered a prayer when I asked him to take me away
A prayer it would all be over one day
A police sting operation was my very last date
A warm summer night that changed my fate
At first I ran but I didn’t get far
I was hiding and shaking and holding my scar
I stood there naked while cops shined a light in my face
They said I could get out and be in a safe place
I tried to tell them all that I knew
But six hours isn’t enough to tell you all I’ve been through
Now I’m in a safe house and don’t know what’s next
I’m too scared to go out so I just sit and text
A target goes out for the girls who snitch
Usually put out by the bottom bitch
It all hurts so much I would rather be numb
I try to break the thoughts that I’m pretty but dumb
Law enforcement was supposed to be the enemy
But now I don’t know because they set me free
I don’t know what my future will hold
But it will be better, at least so I’m told
I haven’t taken my slave mark off yet
I started to once but began to fret
I can’t eat or sleep and flashbacks plaque my head
I try not to think, tossing and turning in bed
I hate this feeling of being alone
And I’m confused about where my life has been thrown
I can’t really picture my life off the track
But I promise myself I will never go back
I know there is a life outside of the tricks
But before that there is a lot that needs fixed
Nothing good ever comes out of this stuff
Eventually every girl will have has enough
Some will get out and some never do
They say you age out but that isn’t true
I knew someone who aged out at fifty six
Bit she died a year later, a methamphetamine fix
Most girls who get out just switch to selling drugs
They roll around with the gangsters and thugs
While others end up back where they began
Because it’s the only world that they understand
If not your not in the game what you think is probably wrong
Preconceived notions tend to tag along
Girls are treated like ragdolls back on the stables
It’s not fun or pretty like in the fables
If you think the girls like it, don’t be a fool
No one wants to live under dictator rule
There honestly is nothing to gain
To want this life you must be insane
Pimps and prostitutes ate trained from the time they are young
They’ll be stuck in this world til their days are done
You can take a pimp off the street one will replace him the same
So if this is new news to you…Welcome to the Game.

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This blog is going to shed light on a dark world most can only imagine.  I will include my personal experiances with general information on The Game of Honolulu as well as updates from what’s going on down at the track.  The track refers to a certain line of streets in the heart of Waikiki that is known as a red light area.  I hope to bring this world into the light and expose it for what it really is.

If you are being trafficked there is help. Get yourself out before it’s to late. 
For Hawaii… http://www.traffickjamming.org/

For Continental US…http://www.polarisproject.org/ 

If you want help but you’re scared, and I know you are…I am here too. And I know what you go through. And I know you deserve better.
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