I always thought that MGM was moreso for hygiene reasons in middle east countries where there’s lots of sand, and lets face it, sand comes into the same “magical qualities” that socks do, sand gets everywhere, and socks go missing in the wash. The only reason or justification if you like for FGM that I’ve ever seen or heard is “we’ve always done that”, “it’s our religion”, the cynical reason and the fact that some people don’t think sex should be enjoyed reasons (I hope I’ve made that last bit make sense, if it doesn’t read right the first time then please re-read).
There are more women involved in prostitution, that’s a simple fact, but fuck me! That doesn’t make it a valid career choice. I bet that only the tiniest percentage of people who become prostitutes do it out of choice, and that most do it because of circumstance ie money problems, drugs, abusive partners etc. If there we’re enough decent jobs in the first place, prostitution would most likely disappear in a very short space of time, but seeing as it’s “the worlds oldest profession”, I don’t see it ending anytime soon. While I’m not pro-prostitution, I’m not anti-prostitute – we all have to earn a living, I’m not going to shame anyone for being a prostitute, that’s only going to make that person feel worse for a start, and not help anything or anyone.
Another poster mentioned that a man posting earlier just wanted to be the centre of attention (as do MRA’s), and that they should just be ignored and not made the centre of attention, so why draw attention to him? I’d say listen to all points of view and think about them, and don’t dismiss anything out of hand, because good and bad ideas come from all quarters in all shapes, sizes etc.
It has been a while since I wrote anything for this blog. I went through a period of needing to step away. I hadn’t realised when I started this that doing this would have quite the emotional impact on me that it has. I started and abandoned several posts, but needed to take that space to concentrate on other things – to avoid being consumed again.
For years my life revolved around someone else’s emotional comfort. Someone else’s want’s, wishes and desires. I became a tiny satellite in orbit around planet Gender. Unable to pull away from it’s gravity, spinning around and around, sending the occasional signal out into the universe, never really being heard. Believing that nothing or no one was hearing my distress signal. Sometimes the signal would be picked up, only to be reflected back at me with a message saying that my message was faulty, that…
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