Lyn Madden - Lyn. A Story of Prostitution

Lyn Madden and June Levine

To all of those at my fortieth birthday party, especially the woman who hosted it. For obvious reasons, I will not name them, but you know who you are, and thank you.

Thanks to my escorts who became my friends. Thanks to Inspector Mick Connolly for setting aside his duties and giving me time to talk out my fears.

Thanks to Ronnie Drew who rescued me when I was penniless after I missed the Liverpool boat home. When he asked me what I did and I said that Id been a prostitute, he laughed and said So? Youre a prostitute Im a singer. Theyre just labels. And thank you to Deirdre for being gracious when she might have been annoyed.

To the artist who kindly sent me 20 after the article in Magill magazine and to Colm Toibn who was editor then, thank you. Also to the RTE man who brought books to cheer me when I was in the Meath Hospital.Thank you, young Dr Riley of that hospital, for your kindness.

Surgeon Matt McHugh generously removed some of the scars of my teenage years and I want him to know how much I appreciated that. Also, thank you to Dr Moira Woods who saw me in her medical capacity, but by sparing the time to talk to me, gave me back a little respect for my body.

To Professor Ivor Browne who helped me grow towards freedom.

Lyn Madden

Nowhere is Woman treated according to the merit of her work, but rather as a sex. It is therefore almost inevitable that she should pay for her right to exist, to keep a position in whatever line, with sex favours. Thus, it is merely a question of degree whether she sells herself to one man, in or out of marriage, or to many men. Whether our reformers admit it or not, the economic and social inferiority of women is responsible for prostitution...

From Emma Goldmans The Traffic in Women

In the beginning I used to introduce Lyn to everybody. Then I started to recognise a sign from her which said: Did business with him, and so I stopped. I did not want to know which husbands of the women in my life used women as prostitutes. Eventually, I dealt with that. However, without my having to ask, Lyn had clearly answered one of the most common questions about the game: What sort of man... ? All sorts: politicians, business and professional men, priests, the guy who puts money by each week for the purpose, and the fellow who has a hand job because he cannot afford intercourse.

An insight into the nature of prostitution had come from an unexpected source. It was after the second wave Womens Movement erupted in the early seventies, when it was such a relief to share intimate conversations, feel free to ask any question that came to mind.

How did you come to have fourteen children? I asked the woman sitting next to me.

I was trying to coax money out of him for a pair of shoes for one of the others, she answered. You have to use what he wants to get what you need.

Prostitution is the inevitable outcome of patriarchy. It has always existed because men have always been in a position to pay for what they want, and women have always been in a position of need. In that context, with male sexual desires regarded as sacrosanct, female sexuality becomes a commodity.

There is a sustained effort throughout society, both within and outside of marriage, to keep women economically dependent upon men. Words like romance and chivalry are used to fudge a vital issue of freedom for women; they condition all of us to live in an atmosphere of prostitution. Everyone recognises a mans need to earn at least enough to support two people, himself and a woman. Because women are supposed to be kept by men, payment for their labour is considered of less consequence. And in a time of few jobs, it has been mentioned that those jobs should be given to men, the supporters, the bread-winners. The social norms are distilled out of a basic economic system which makes a woman dependent for the bite in her mouth as much as any luxury.

There is a vital need for all women, everywhere, to take a long, hard look at the reality of prostitution. The plight of women on the streets, women like Lyn, will not change much until all women recognise their need for economic independence. In its more subtle forms, prostitution is classless. Why, for instance, are women often expected to be economically helpless in public, always the guest of the man? And no, despite feminism, things have not changed much at all.

When I was very young, I thought I had to kiss a boy who paid for my ticket into the pictures. I did not admit that then; I buried it deep and quickly cloaked my subservience, in romance. In later years, I have been rapped on the knuckles for embarrassing men when, in my work capacity, I insisted on paying for their lunches. Ive been told it is unfeminine to ask for the bill, warned of becoming a castrating female. All I can say about this is that nature seems to have done too delicate a job on that organ in which the male ego is frequently centred. Why should a man always be expected to pay? Why should he wish to do so? What, at the very least, is expected of a woman who is paid for? Why should one be economically paralysed by ones sex? What effect does such an atmosphere have on the growing girl?

I met Lyn Madden through a mutual friend who is a member of the Prisoners Rights Organisation. This person told me that Lyn was state witness in a murder case in which three women were alleged to have been killed by a pimp and that Lyn was writing a book about it. Would I look at Lyns work?

Now, Lyn says that she did not set out to write a book. She just felt compelled to write the nightmare out of her system, perhaps in an effort to make sense of it. In any case, Lyn wrote until her thumb was swollen and purple, but with that ability of hers to cut off pain, she continued to write. I was devastated and infuriated by what she wrote. And I was impressed by the books potential value as a sociological statement. More than that, I liked Lyn.

I attended every day of the trial and undertook to help her by editing the work and pointing her in the direction of publishers. The book went the rounds of London publishing houses. All of them rejected it, mainly, as far as I can understand, because the central character was unsympathetic and it was a bit raw. There was none of the acceptable whore with the heart of gold element to dilute it, nor was there any glamour.