"“The worst thing about prostitution,” the blogger poses, “is that it is illegal.”
I feel the ire begin to build inside of me. How could he say this? I want to ask him, “How do you know how a prostitute feels?”
What I write instead, is “The worst thing about prostitution is that it's so often a result of child abuse. Abused children grow up feeling ashamed, and are far more likely to let themselves be further exploited. Prostitution is a very natural step for them.” But there is a troubling word, at the end of my statementGǪ “them,” as if I am speaking about others. That's when I realize that I need to disclose my own truths. If the shame must be eradicated, it must begin somewhere. Perhaps it can begin with me. I begin to pen an essay, which takes on a life of its ownGǪ"
