Essays and poems by Janet Dulin Jones.

Posted by on Mar 14, 2016 in Freedom & Revolution, Love | No Comments

With patriarchy in decline for the last hundred or so years, we have seen the rise of the feminine spirit emerge in many fruitful and fulfilling ways, from the Suffragettes on, and with it, a many fronted attempt to achieve a restoration of balance.

We are fortunate and proud to present the brilliant work of author and writer Janet Dulin Jones, here with a short essay on ‘people trafficking’, and two poems. A fierce champion of women’s evolution and independence, whose work highlights the heroic endeavours and struggles of those woman of the past and present, who fought and suffered for the freedom and emancipation we have today.

ONE.

SOME CALL IT “TRAFFICKING” CALL IT WHAT IT IS:

SLAVERY

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THE FIRST IN A SERIES OF PIECES ON TRAFFICKING IN PERSONS

AS I LEARNED ABOUT THE CRIME

OVER 27 MILLION PEOPLE WORLDWIDE ARE THOUSANDS OF MILES FROM HOME AND NOT BY CHOICE, THEY HAVE BEEN SOLD INTO MODERN SLAVERY. CHILDREN, MEN AND WOMEN

I STARTED TO LEARN ABOUT THE WORLD OF MODERN SLAVERY WHEN DOING RESEARCH FOR A FILM THAT I WANTED TO WRITE. NOT BEING IN THE PUBLIC SECTOR IN IMMIGRATION OR POLICING OR INVOLVED IN A GOVERNMENT PROGRAM CONNECTED TO HUMAN RIGHTS, I WAS ENTERING THE WORLD AS A NOVICE. FORTUNATELY, AT THE TIME, THE UNITED KINGDOM HAD ONE OF THE BEST DEDICATED “TRAFFICKING” TEAMS IN THE WORLD.

I RANG SCOTLAND YARD AND SPOKE TO A PUBLIC RELATIONS OFFICER. SHE PUT ME IN TOUCH WITH THE DETECTIVE SERGEANT FOR THE TEAM. AFTER A COUPLE OF EMAILS WE MADE A TIME TO MEET AT “THE YARD.” I’D WALKED BY SCOTLAND YARD ONCE, BUT HAD NEVER BEEN INSIDE. MOST POLICE STATIONS IN AMERICA HAVE A DESK, YOU ANNOUNCE YOURSELF, THE DETECTIVE OR OFFICER COMES AND MEETS YOU AND YOU GO TO AN OFFICE OR A CONFERENCE ROOM AND TALK. NOT SO AT THE YARD. IT WAS LIKE ENTERING THE OFFICES OF MI-5 OR THE CIA. I SUDDENLY EXPECTED THEM TO ASK FOR A URINE SAMPLE AND TO FINGERPRINT ME! THAT DIDN’T HAPPEN, BUT THEY DID LOOK THROUGH THE BAGS AND I WENT THROUGH AN AIRPORT XRAY MACHINE. THE DS HAD GONE THROUGH A DIFFERENT ENTRANCE AND WAITED. HE TOLD ME LATER THAT AMERICANS FROM HOMELAND SECURITY HAVE COME IN WITH GUNS ON AND CAUSED A BIT OF A KARFUFFLE. BEING A WRITER, I HAD THE MIGHTIER SWORD, THE PEN, WHICH WAS APPROVED. I COULD JOIN THE DS AND PICKED UP MY ID BADGE. IT HUNG AROUND MY NECK LIKE A FILM FESTIVAL LAVALIER.

THE DS WAS A FORMER MOTORCYCLE SURVEILLANCE COP, DOWNHILL RACER AND AN EX- RUGBY PLAYER; IN OTHER WORDS – THE KIND OF MAN YOÍU WOULD EXPECT TO BE A SCOTLAND YARD DETECTIVE. WE SAT DOWN IN THE CAFÉ IN THE YARD AND HE BEGAN TO EXPLAIN TRAFFICKING IN THE 21ST CENTURY.

WE HAD AN HOUR. I HAD VERY BASIC QUESTIONS. I WAS ABOUT TO JUMP IN AT THE BOTTOM OF A HUGE LEARNING CURVE THAT CONTINUES TO THIS DAY.

AS WE SAT IN THE CANTEEN WITH A GREAT VIEW OF “THE CITY” I STARTED WITH THE OBVIOUS QUESTION; HOW LONG HAD THE TEAM BEEN IN PLACE AND HOW DID THE DS JOIN THE TEAM. AS CHANCE WOULD HAVE IT THE TEAM WAS GOING TO LOSE ITS FUNDING IN THE FOLLOWING 12 MONTHS AND THE TEAM WAS STARTING TO DISBAND.

THE TEAM HAD BEEN SET UP IN 2008 AFTER GREAT BRITAIN DID NOT FARE WELL IN THE TRAFFICKING IN PERSONS REPORT FROM THE US GOVERNMENT. IN ORDER TO UP THEIR STATUS – NO BODY WANTS TO BE BEHIND SAUDI ARABIA IN TERMS OF HUMAN RIGHTS. SO PARLIAMENT PASSED FUNDING TO ESTABLISH A HUMAN TRAFFICKING TEAM IN THE UK. THE TEAM WAS FIRST HEADED BY A WOMAN DI WHO GOT A BIG PROMOTION AND LEFT THE TEAM AS IT WAS FORMING, THE NEW DI HAD TO PULL DETECIVES FROM ACROSS THE MET POLICE WHO COULD HANDLE TO VERY PARTICULAR AND UNIQUE SKILLS TO WORK IN HUMAN TRAFFICKING.

THE DS TOLD ME THAT NO ONE WHO CAME TO THE TEAM HAD AN EXPERIENCE IN HUMAN TRAFFICKING; IT WAS A NEW PROBLEM THAT CAME ON THE HEELS OF THE EU AND THE OPEN BORDERS BETWEEN ALL MEMBER COUNTRIES. THE UK, WHILE NOT PART OF THE EU, PARTICIPATED TO ALLOW PERSONS TO TRAVEL WITH THEIR EU CARD. ONLY THE DI HAD BEEN WORKING FOR A COUPLE OF YEARS IN A SPECIAL PROGRAM WITH THE UN, WHICH MADE HIM PERFECT TO LEAD THE TEAM. BESIDES BEING A GREAT DETECTIVE.

THE DETECTIVES ON THE TEAM WERE FROM HOMICIDE, CRIMES AND VICE, THE FLYING SQUAD; DEPARTMENTS WHERE PROSTITUTES WERE CRIMINALS, NOT VICTIMS. TRAFFICKING’S BIG CASH COW IS YOUNG WOMEN – USUALLY JUST OVER THE LEGAL AGE OF 18 – NO CRIMINAL LAW BROKEN FOR TRAVELLING WITH A YOUNG WOMAN OVER 18, PRIMAIRLY FROM THE EU BECAUSE THEY DON’T NEED VISAS, JUST A 60L TICKET ON EASY JET AND PROOF OF BEING IN THE EU.

BEFRIENDED BY YOUNG WOMEN OR ROMANCED BY “LOVER BOYS” WHO ARE RECRUITING FOR TRAFFICKERS (OR THEMSELVES COULD HAVE THEIR OWN SMALL NETWORK) THE YOUNG WOMEN ARE LIED TO ABOUT JOBS WAITING FOR THEM IN EUROPE, PROMISES OF MARRIAGE, SCHOOL. OF COURSE THEY ARRIVE IN PARIS OR ROME OR AMSTERDAM OR LONDON AND QUICKLY AND USUALLY HORRIFICALLY GET INDOCTRINATED INTO THE SEX TRADE. SOMETIMES THEY ARE LOCKED IN HOUSES, CHAINED TO BEDS, NEARLY STARVED AND NOT ALWAYS PAID. WHEN THEY ARE PAID THEY ARE PAID VERY LITTLE.

THE DS TOLD ME THAT THERE WERE HARDLY ANY UK GIRLS WORKING PROSTITUION IN LONDON AND ENVIRONS DUE TO THE INFLUX OF EU GIRLS. THE EU GIRLS WERE “OWNED PROPERTY” DIDN’T ARGUE, WORKED FOR SUPER CHEAP OR SOMETIMES FREE. WHY BOTHER WITH A UK GIRL WHO WOULD DEMAND TOO MUCH. AND EU GIRLS WOULD DO WHAT THEY WERE TOLD. IT USED TO BE IT COULD COST FROM 500-1000 POUNDS TO HAVE SEX WITHOUT A CONDOM, NOW, 20-50 POUNDS. WHAT YOU LOSE IN FEES YOU BRING IN IN VOLUME.

MY HEAD WAS SPINNING WE HADN’T EVEN REALLY STARTED INTO THE NITTY GRITTY OF HOW THE GIRLS WERE LIED TO, HOW THE NETWORKS WORKED, NOR DID WE TOUCH ON CHILD TRAFFICKING, LABOR TRAFFICKING OF MEN AND WOMEN, POT FARM TRAFFICKING FROM VIETNAM…SCRATCHING THE SURFACE. WE MADE AN APPOINTMENT TO SPEAK AGAIN. HE WAS ON HIS WAY TO THAILAND TO BRING BACK A TRAFFICKER.

AS I WENT HOME I GOT OFF THE TUBE IN SOHO AT PICCADILLY, I WALKED DOWN GREAT WINDMILL STREET AND NOTICED ALL THE “ADULT” SHOPS. I LOOKED AT THE GIRLS, THEY LOOKED WEARY, SAD, DEAD-EYED. THEY CHATTED A BIT TO ONE ANOTHER. THEY WERE NOT SPEAKING ENGLISH. I WONDERED HOW LONG THEY HAD BEEN HERE AND IF THEY WANTED DESPERATELY TO GO HOME.

Janet. D Jones.

POEMS.

Thing I Tell Only You – London

February 2015

Sisters

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Sisters, the word is powerful,

It is bond, sometimes blood, sometimes

Not, it is the tie that

Makes us strong

Sister, the word is compassionate,

Wounded soilders called nurses

Sisters, The Church calls nuns,

Sisters, it is the action

That soothes all suffering

Sisters, the word is unifying,

All around the world women

Can join hands to stand up

To harassment, violence,

Inequality and death

Sisters, it is the stance that

Makes us powerful

Sisters, the word is empathy,

When nothing in life is right,

When suffering consumes,

When you are on all fours

Unable to stand

Sisters, it is the hand

That helps us to stand

Sisters, the word is wisdom,

As chaos rules, when war

Rages, if men lose their way

Taking steps to the edge of

Oblivion, it is the “weaker”

Sex who says “No more”

Sisters, it is the spirit

That makes us human

Sisters, your names are

Minerva, Sophia, Athenaimages

Our inspirations,

The beacons of potentialimages

And greatness inside of us

their songs join together

Throughout the ages

Sisters, it is the voice

That says I am always there for you

J. Dulin Jones

Things I See

In the New York Times

April 2014

Catcalling

It is time we pasted it up all over the place

I am not here for you

I am not your fantasy

I am not your property

I am not a body for you to abuse

It is time we posted it in the schools

Offices,

Government buildings,

Shops,

Libraries

Department Stores

And Costco

And Walmart

And well

Damnit

Everywhere

You with the big rude mouth,

Who taught you to call out “Your

Ass is too big for me to fuck.”

“I bet you Asian girls take it any way I give it.”

“Hey baby, I bet you like it hard and nasty.”

She looks like a virgin but I bet she ain’t.”

Who raised you? What made you the senseless,

Selfish, twisted man who

Only knows how to demean women?

Who didn’t love you? Who taught you that

Women were nothin’? Who taught you

That you were nothin’?

You can’t grab my ass in an elevator

You can’t put your arms around

Me in a smothering grip because

I’m standing next to you

“Hey baby…?” I’ll hey baby

you and say, my body is my body

it is not your property, not ever

Don’t call me bossy because I know my mind,

You’re decisive

Don’t call me bitch when I disagree

You’re smart

Don’t call me vain when I dress nice

You’re groomed

Too bad you don’t like me

Too bad you can’t take the time to

Know who I am, because then you’d have to know

Yourself

And that might freak you out

But I won’t give up.

We gotta start all over, don’t we.

We have to post it all over America,

All over South America, in Asia

In the Middle East, Eastern Europe, Australia, Russia,

Europe, Africa and the United Kingdom

I am a woman. I am a person just like you

I will use my wheat paste and my

Art and my voice and

Let you know that I see you

That I know you don’t see me

I will teach you to see me

To see all women

But if I ask that of you

I must see you too

How do we reach out?

How do you take my hand?

How does this end?

While Your Were Away

Saturday July 25th – jdj

Thoughts on Elizabeth Barrett Browning, poet

Radical Angel

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Behind those dark violet eyes

Out of view from all

That spirit of Joan d’Arc and

St. Theresa is afire with outrage

At man’s cruelty to man, woman and child

The fire smoulders in your heart

And the smoke fills your lungs

To bursting

For so long these embers have pushed

You to see beyond human, beyond earth

Beyond all we take in when we are awake

And you rise above it all and link

With eternity

In the moment when you cannot avert

Your gaze, when you must breathe

The acrid smoke and feel the fire

Burning your soul in anguish

Then you pick up your pen,

Mightier than any sword;

Brighter than any instrument known

To man

And you write in the voice of God

And avenging angels that becomes the hymn

For all of humanity oppressed

Under the heel of corruption, greed

Power and male ego

Woman you, but more than woman,

Daughter to the world, preacher to

The soul to save man from his own

Atrocities

Your hand reaches out to give succor

To the dying, the abused, the neglected

The forgotten; and soon all the world

Is weeping in shame, the rains that

Fall upon London and society

Begin to cleanse some of the wounds,

Heal some of the hearts

Alas, not all are saved, not all brutes are

Brought to their knees in Amazing Grace

But instead blindly march on towards

Hell on earth and possession and

Ignorance and arrogance

Turning away from the light that

You shine so beautifully upon

The world

And you acknowledge that yours

Is a small, but vital role, that of

Poet, of woman, of poet woman,

A mantle given to few, male or female,

To be the voice of change, the voice

Of englightenment, of kindness

Of egalitarianism, of compassion

To bring about change in the halls of power,

For only there do men pay attention and come

To heel and reign in some of their baser,

Monstrous ways

So few will pick up their pens to

Champion the everyman, everywoman,

Everychild, it is they say, a fool’s errand

And You smile and say your are blessed

To be such a fool, God loves fools

For they know no fear and bound

Ahead where those who pretend to be

Brave and good will shrink and

Shudder from joining the call

How were you made? Beloved daughter

Of a once happy union, brothers and

Sisters were your boon companions,

Ease and comfort were your lot, yet,

From a small age, you could see beyond your

Simple, sylvan dream and acknowledge

The world in all it’s complexities and

Hardships…a seer, a seeker, always

Wanting to know more, to uplift, to heal,

Spirit of that purity comes in with you

The moment of first breath and

Lives on after that breath leaves your

Body to fill another with the same

Yearing to continue the cycle to make

Life on earth a better, dearer, kinder,

Beautiful place

Come you did, and change you made

Children in the factories became human beings

Needing schooling, protection, love;

Women found the power to say I am

Equal to man, we are all one and began

To claim her place as her own being

Not the property of anyone, particularly

Husband

Wise and simple, brilliant and open

Hearted woman, how we soak in the

Beauty and light and truth of your words

Breath left you long ago yet we

Take in the air you left to nourish us

And let it fill our lungs and inspire us

To be, like you

A Radical Angel

J. Dulin Jones