Who are we kidding?

When my eldest daughter was in grade one, she came home from school distraught about the behaviour of a couple of boys in her class.

"They keep flipping up my skirt and trying to pull my panties down," she cried. "They try to do it to all the girls who wear skirts."

I was incensed. I marched into the school the next morning and spoke with the Administrator.

Upon hearing what the boys were up to, she replied, "Oh. That's just boys being boys. There's no harm."

I began to sputter. "Excuse me? No harm? It's wrong. It makes my daughter cry. Is that okay?"

She shrugged. "It's not okay. But we can't make them stop being boys. Rather than crying, maybe your daughter should learn how to stand up for herself."

"Perfect," I replied. "I'll tell her to grab the next boy who flips her skirt up by the balls and squeeze."

"That wouldn't be okay," replied the Administrator.

"Maybe not. But it definitely would get his attention and yours too."

Boys grow into men. Boys who do not respect girls grow into men who do not respect women.

Yesterday, I read the Bad Date Sheet published each month by a local non-profit that works at harm reduction for sex-trade workers. The Sheet is meant to advise street workers about men who are violent with their dates by providing a description of each incident and man involved.

I was incensed, furious actually, as I read about some of the things that these girls have endured in the line of their business. Rape. Being forced to have sex at knife-point. Having guns pulled on them. Beaten and left naked in remote industrial areas of the city -- often because she requests payment for services rendered.

One man, and I use the term 'man' hesitantly as I do not want to offend the real men out there, picked up his 'date' in the downtown core. There was a large dog in the back seat. He drove to a remote spot they had not agreed upon. She complained. He hit her. He was large. Overpowering. He locked the car doors and threatened to kill her if she didn't have sex with him and then his dog. She refused. He beat her and dumped her battered body in a ditch.

She lived to tell the story. She lived to turn another trick. Her description of the man is very vague. Girls don't look at their dates. They don't want to connect to their eyes. They don't want to give them any chance to see inside their minds, to see what little of their spirit they have preserved beneath the degradation of being a 'ho'.

Perhaps the men who beat and rape their 'dates' never flipped a girls skirt and pulled her pants down, but somewhere in their journey from grade school to degrading behaviours, they never learned about respect. About decency. About treating human beings with dignity. They never learned they had value. They never learned they could make a choice other than to overpower helpless women surviving on the avails of prostitution.

Girls don't become prostitutes because their parents told them, "This is a fabulous career honey. I think you'd be terrific at it. It's a lifestyle you'll enjoy."

Girls become prostitutes because of supply and demand. Their bodies are the commodity and there's an endless supply of men demanding their wares. Often, girls step into the trade because a man tells them they must. She calls him Darren, or Paul, or Simon. His real name is 'Pimp'. He tells her he loves her. He's the only one who does he tells her as he pulls her away from family, friends, anyone who might be able to tell her the truth. Can't you do this one thing for me, just this once, honey? Please? I need the money and my buddy offered $2,000 to sleep with you, just once. You know I love you. Look at all I've done for you, given you. Just this once can't you do it for me? It's just sex. It doesn't affect our love. That's forever after.

She believes him. Believes he loves her, forever after. Believes it's just 'sex'. And it is. Just sex. But it's sex at the cost of her life, her dignity, her spirit, her grace. It's sex that traps her into a life she never could imagine. Love, his love, her love. That's just part of his game. And in playing, she forfeits her soul and her freedom. Sure, she uses drugs. Who wouldn't if night after night you had to stand on the street, or wait in a hotel room for men to come and spill their spoil into your body as you moan in ecstasy and call him, Baby and tell him lies he needs to hear to believe he is 'the man'.

I read the Bad Date Sheet yesterday and thought of those boys who flipped my daughter's skirt when she was in Grade One. What lesson did the schools condoning of their actions send them? What did they learn about girls? About authority? About superiority?

My daughter quit wearing skirts to school after that. I quit trusting 'the Administration' to have the best interests of my child at heart and began teaching her and her sister about their rights as human beings.

It's a long road. We're women in a world where some men believe it's okay to take a date to a deserted parking lot, rape her and dump her. We're women in a world where pundits call for the legalization of prostitution. "It's one of the oldest professions," they spout. "We're not going to stop it. Let's at least make it safer by making it legal."

Safer? What is safe about a man called 'John' who uses your body and then sometimes pays, sometimes not? What is safe about spreading your legs for a few coins that will buy you your next fix, or perhaps feed your kids because prostitution is the only trade you've ever learned?

Who loses? Definitely the girls. But also, the mothers. Fathers. Sisters. Brothers. Aunts and Uncles. Those whose daughters and siblings and nieces step off the street into a stranger's car in order to fulfill on his needs.

We lose. Society. Us. You. Me. Our neighbours. We lose because in the act of legalizing prostitution we legalize the subjugation of women. We make it okay for men to have their sexual needs fulfilled at the expense of another human being. We lose because we make it all about the need of man to not have to control his urges in ways that show respect to every human being.

So, this isn't one of my inspiring posts this morning. I'll have calmed down by tomorrow. I'll be less strident. Less vocal. And in my silence, who will speak out for these girls? Who will speak up for these victims?

This morning I'm angry. I'm upset. I'm saddened by the hypocrisy of a world that makes it okay for girls to sell their bodies -- as long as nobody gets hurt.

The question is: Who are we kidding?