Is anyone still there? Rediscovering my creativity

I realise I have somewhat enormously neglected this blog and that is a terrible shame and shall never happen again. Hopefully.

In all seriousness, I haven’t written on here for over six months and I can’t give a rational explanation as to why. Writing has always been one of my favourite things to do – I even thought I’d make a living from it one day  – but for some reason or another I had lost my confidence, or was too busy, or perhaps an essay looked more inviting…

And then I realised: being dumped is fantastic.

If I was clever (read: bored) enough to make a graph of my life over the past year, you would see that the correlation between creativity and being single is as strong as Popeye on roids. There is nothing new about getting comfortable in a relationship and letting things go – but I never thought it would happen to me.

Letting yourself go in a relationship usually means:

gaining weight (guilty)

shaving less regularly (no comment)

breaking wind (even the notion!)

Of course people are going to make less of an effort with minor aesthetic details, but to neglect the things that make you tick is just plain stupid. A relationship can be so all-consuming that you lose sight of who you were before it began. Being dumped – what a horrible word – being released can be liberating because it offers you the opportunity to rediscover what you like to do. You might resume your love of painting, judo, WHATEVER. You will realise that you no longer have to endure Futurama. Or pretend to care about Quantitative Easing. Or put up with his mother*. FREEDOM!

Aside from the ability to write snide comments, – which I urge you not to take personally, those who may feel under fire – for me, freedom means the ability to be creative again. So what if I haven’t written anything for ages? No one is there to stop me. Just because I have neglected this part of myself for the last six months does not mean I should neglect it for the next six months.

Congratulations to anyone who managed to digest all of my moralising. I won’t lie, I struggled.

*Disclaimer: some mothers are nice

Amsterdam: the women behind the Red Lights

Amsterdam has for a long time been the favourite destination of stags, hens and students to let their hair down by drinking, getting high and maybe even doing some ‘window shopping’. Equally, the spectacle of prostitution in this city has long since become a bit of a joke.

http://img.allw.mn/content/travel/2013/08/7_walk-the-red-light-district-at-night.jpg

Before going to Amsterdam I was of course aware of the infamous Red Light district, but the reality of the situation didn’t really hit me until it was there, only metres away. From my hostel window I could see three red-light houses; two of which were adorned with women in their underwear, waiting to be bought. Seen purely as a decorative, sexual commodity, these women posed for most of the evening without getting as much as a stare from some tourists. So the situation turned desperate. One woman actually ventured onto the street outside, which is where UK law draws the line, so I turned and tried to forget what I had seen.

However, that was impossible. So, being rather ignorant about the legality of the sex industry in the Netherlands, I decided to do some research. Aside from the fact that prostitution itself and operating a brothel is legal over there (the latter is illegal in the UK), I happened upon the Prostitution Information Centre which, written by former sex-worker Mariska Majoor, defends the practice of prostitution in Amsterdam. It actually claims that the workers want to sell themselves and deserve more respect as professionals.

Whilst I agree that they deserve more respect, I would argue that it should be in deciding with whom they spend the night, because, as it stands, if you can afford a prostitute, you can have her. The only conceivable reason for the workers wanting to sell themselves is the sickening idea ingrained in some societies that women are better off being used by men because they have nothing more to offer in the workplace. Do these girls actually want to sleep with each letch that comes up with the money? Of course not. But they have been convinced that this is their best career choice, and the PIC even suggests that this is empowering; working within the patriarchal structure of society in order to exploit it – for what? Money? Disease? Abortion? Rape? Trafficking? Worse?

The site argues that legalising this practice makes it safer for the workers because unsafe prostitution exists anyway. While this may be true, who knows how much abuse of these women goes under the radar because of their position as sex-objects, even where prostitution is legal?

I think it is important that we ask these questions and consider the women and (undoubtedly) children involved, because, as the PIC says, they do deserve more respect. And whilst it might be more visible in Amsterdam, we also need to consider the unseen sex-workers in every city because ultimately, nobody should be bought.