Try to imagine what it would be like to be caged in a 12 by 14 cargo crate fully exposed to the bone chilling west-coast dampness, day in and day out. A half dozen crates of imprisoned souls line the outside of the main brothel. That is where I started, as a crib prostitute; the lowest of prostitution ranks. Not only did I have survive in a box, we had to provide service there too. I would rather not imagine if my visitors pretended that I am not caged like an animal in order to achieve a moment of ecstasy. Either way I wouldn’t understand.
Crib prostitutes are beat the most because they are equivalent to slaves. The more we are beat the less men we attract, and so the cycle continues until our death. The trick is to be emotionally deadened, to be able to flash a flirtatious smile while hunger and pain are ravaging your body.
Every I see a ship dock I feel ill. It means I will have to work harder and give service to even more customers in one day. Ceaseless flocks men keep arriving on the docks of Victoria with empty pockets and bellies but full of hope and ambition to make their fortune in Gold Mountain. Victoria has become a point of entrance for labourers and prostitutes on their way into interior BC.
Thefresh imported pleasure merchandise in Victoria must be making a lot of poor families back in China rich. The sex-slave trade is the result of a shortage of women but it is also a transplanted Chinese custom. In China as a little girl I remember having to say goodbye to many of my friends who were purchased as sexual commodities to serve as concubines. It is not considered an evil of society in the way that the Evangelistshere in Victoria believe it to be.