This Chastity Belt Makes My Ass Feel Good

I used to be one of those people who felt that sex was as much of a necessity as wine for one’s mental well-being and overall joy, and if you know me you’ll know, I’m a firm believer in wine’s healing powers. Nights where one found both wine and sex were divine, if only for two hours, before you began to miss your own bed and got tired of the stench of whiskey coming from the body next to you and if you’re really unlucky, the repeated “I swear this never happens, I’m just tired,” from said body. I recall having a conversation with a friend and me pointing out that I hadn’t had sex that week and I wasn’t sure how I was functioning. [It was a Tuesday, that day, mind you.]

I don’t think myself a nymphomaniac, not even close, I just had a certain love for the act that made me want to indulge, often. Whether out of boredom, desire or a suppressed feeling of necessity. I was a younger, sexier version of Dr Eve, if I do say so myself, and I oozed sensuality.

A little sexpot, if you will.

When I saw someone I liked

Something absolutely wondrous happened then though: I got too busy, too distracted, to maintain a sex life. Please note that as I type this there’s a certain level of horror I would like to get across. I’ll need you to clutch your pearls and throw your hands up in disbelief. Think Marilyn Monroe turning into Hilary Clinton.

For the first few weeks I simply forgot to desire sexual gratification from another human being. Honestly, when I got down to crunching numbers, the effort time and effort it would take to set up liaisons, prepare and travel just didn’t seem worth it. Now here you might say “Well, honey, maybe you jut didn’t have anything worth travelling to,” and I can’t dispute that, really. That’s a possibility.

Or “Well, maybe you’re just lazy now,” and that too, might ring true. I might know why and simply refuse to dig it out of my subconscious.

I can tell you this however; Too much bad sex will make you too lazy to seek out sex, period.

Bottom line, a fortnight turned into a month and that turned into way longer than I would have been able to accept could be true, a while ago. I became [voluntarily?] celibate.

The most shocking bit being: I was okay with that.

My sex drive simply went away. She started visiting less and less and one day, just stopped cumming at all, and I was fine with that.

 

She came and left

It’s weird when you thought you based most of your character on your sex[ual] experiences/life, or when you’ve been told that, and one day you’re simply okay with not getting any.  I went from thinking sex was like water to considering it flavored water that comes in a 1.5l bottle, I mean, I can get it if I wanna but I don’t need it. And on I went, uninvolved, unfucked and uninterested.

 

Yesterday I felt good. I had on a long, beautiful red dress and an equally bright outlook on things.  A girl I encountered asked me why I was happy “You’re like.. glowing, dude,” she said and when I told her I was simply happy, for no reason, she said “You’re lying, you got some.”

Two things irritated me about that statement.

1. I’ve never been known to lie about sex, because I don’t.

2. Why would she think one could only be ecstatic when one is sexually satisfied?

Of course I then informed her that I in actual fact haven’t been touched by another in ages and simply have no desire for the act and her response again ticked me off: “What? Oh man, what a shame!” See, here, I desperately wanted to address the fact that I felt she might have been bothered because I used to have an “overly familiar” relationship with her ex which might have interfered with their relationship but I tried to avoid the issue. No use starting something you don’t want to be a part of. 

Being on the receiving end, however, of comments I later realized I’ve made countless times over the past couple of years made me realize what an annoying twat I must have sounded like. While I marveled at the insurmountable number or times I’ve sounded like a douche I said the words I never would have dreamed I would: “On the contrary, it’s actually quite comfortable. Once you realize that sex really isn’t as huge a deal to you as it once was, you act accordingly and adjust your lifestyle to it. It’s simply not a necessity to me and there’s nothing sad about that. What would be sad would be for me to keep fucking if I didn’t want to.”

 

I’ve been thinking it over.  There’s no fun in doing what you don’t want to do. There’s no joy in forced interactions. Whether it be because you simply feel overworked, insecure or simply uninterested, if you don’t want to, you don’t.  And as much as we live in a society fixated on one’s appeal and ability to turn somebody else on and satisfy them, it’s nothing to be ashamed of if you don’t want to do it.

Sometimes you have better things to do than fuck.

Sometimes you simply don’t want to. And that’s perfectly alright.

 

It’s not about them, it’s about you. Always. 

Nymphomaniac I: Part 1, The Lessons and Formative Years

“As a young nymph, it was imperative for me to get rid of my virginity,”  These are the words of Joe, the protagonist in Lars Von Trier’s oddly controversial Nymphomaniac.   

Nymphomaniac: Vol I and II tell the story of Joe, a self proclaimed nympho/sex addict.  Far from being the seedy low budget smut, one would expect it to be based on the title, it is in fact a rather honest, eye opening depiction of Life through the eyes of an insatiable woman, and the experiences one goes through.

Nymphomaniac I:Joe’s story begins.

She’s found beaten half to death close  to an alley by an elderly man, Seligman.

“Already?” I think. “Shit’s gone bad for her already? Jesus, is this one of those movies that depict the downfall of promiscuous women? Cos I’m not here for that.”

She refuses medical attention and instead  goes to his apartment to lay down and have a cup of tea with milk. [No, really.]

Here, her story unfolds.

 

She is not “just another girl with daddy issues”.  On the contrary, Joe has a rather close and warm relationship with her father, they bond as he tells her stories about trees. Her mother, however, is described as “cold” and often, a “cunt” [You’ll come to find, it’s not a dirty word in the movie] .   She “discovers” her vagina when she’s 2, and as she grows with a female companion known only as B, they discover the different ways in which the female genitalia can provide and feel pleasure.

“Perhaps the only difference between me and other people is that I’ve always wanted more from the sunset. More spectacular colors when the sun hits the horizon. That’s perhaps my only sin,” she muses.  Giving the impression that there is no real shame to the life that she has lived.  She is not burdened by society and religion’s  view of the “Unholy” woman.

“Are you insisting that children are sinful?” asks Seligman.  To which she responds in a childlike voice “Not children, me.” So maybe things aren’t exactly what they seem, for her.  It is not shame that cripples her internally, not at all, but she is fully aware of her own misgivings.

She grows and is drawn to her vagina.

Curious.

Understand that  when you really start taking note of your vagina and it’s workings, appearance, feelings, it’s amazing.  As a child I personally was intrigued by it.  How simply complex it was.  Why it was a secret.  So Joe’s desire to know more, and experience more regarding it resonated with me.

She loses her virginity in a rather inelegant manner, as  most of us have, methinks, but will never admit.  A young Joe considers her target sophisticated because he as a Moped and quite bluntly asks him “If I asked you to take my virginity would that be a problem?”

He doesn’t turn her down, and proceeds to penetrate both her vagina and anus [NO LUBE! Christ, the savagery].  Now, I wouldn’t go so far as agreeing with Asa Akira’s sentiments that it’s really practical to just lose them both at the same time since the first time for both is always rather uncomfortable. But It would make sense to lose them.. close together.  Not on the same day though, unless if you can take both your holes being sore.

He’s clumsy, swift and really, a terrible lover.

He is Shia LaBeouf, playing Jerome.

“It hurt like hell. I swore I’d never sleep with anyone again. But of course that only lasted a short while.” Oh honey, don’t we know it?

Years later, with her friend B, again, she really cums into her own regarding her sexuality, so to speak.  Young, dizzy and eager, they go out dressed provocatively on a quest.  To fuck as many men on a train as possible, winner gets a packet of sweets. No, really.

It’s not shocking, really. Not in the least. When you’re young and sexually active, stuck in that weird place where you think you’re an adult yet still have the urge to act young and stupid, things happen.

Everything up to this point had passed without so much as an eyebrow raise from me.  But when you watch the movie, you note that Joe looks rather young.  Skinny, lanky, simply childlike.  She could be a model if she were taller.  But it’s still evident that she’s a girl. This however, doesn’t hinder the men she manages to “seduce”.  Men twice her age still  fuck her, and this is not an issue for them, in the least.

The fact is a girl who thinks she can act like a woman will be treated as such by those who know better.

“I discovered my power as a woman and used it  to my advantage without any concern for anyone else.”  It’s funny that she would have guilt over this, yet understandable.  Society doesn’t condition us to do so and therefore doesn’t condone it. With that in mind, whether we know it or not, many of us internalize society’s perceptions and opinions and use them to gauge whether or not we are “good” people.

This is a recurring theme  throughout her telling of her story and the subsequent conversations with Seligman.

Is she a good person? 

What IS a good person? 

She’s adamant that she’s a horrible being, but he constantly has a counter argument that suggests that possibly, she is too harsh on herself.  They represent both sides of the conversation when it usually comes to issues dealing with promiscuity, and life really.

Are you bad? Or simply a person who’s reacted to circumstances as your Spirit saw fit?

B and Joe start a club: “The Little Flock”.   A group of sexually emancipated/promiscuous girls who’re seemingly, anti love.

“It was rebellious,” she says. “We were committed to combating the love fixated society”.

But B lets the girls down when she falls in love. It’s a betrayal to the Flock. A betrayal to the inner vixen who vows never to experience true intimacy.

This is the first time that affection, love, attachment taints sex for her.

“You think you know everything about sex.

The secret ingredient to sex, is love.” says B.

“For me love was just lust, with jealousy added,” muses an older Joe.

And this is all before Varsity.

It’s amazing the lessons one learns when they jump headfirst into “maturity” and “adulthood”, blindly.  Having personally lost my virginity at 12, I completely related to Joe’s experiences.  By the time you get to Varsity, you’re weirdly both naive and relatively mature.  I loved how the story was told in a purely matter of fact manner.

She was not a “victim”.

She had no “daddy issues”.

She chose to do as she pleased with her body and faced the consequences and lessons as they played out.

There was no shame to being promiscuous, she simply was.

 

*This is the first in a series of posts to follow.

**Also, something I noted. B and Joe’s initials together is : BJ. Ha.

 

 

Novacane

“I no longer need you to fuck me as hard as I hated myself.” – Buddy Wakefield

I remembered this as I lay underneath someone recently, my body being dragged and used any which way. And I felt old and worn down by the whole thing.

I used to adore rough,aggressive sex. I would like to believe I still do and that time, it just wasn’t done right, or it wasn’t with the right person, or I wasn’t in the right mood.

Something.

Something simply wasn’t right.

The next morning, the bruises that I used to look at with pride were an annoyance. As were the bite marks and any sign, really, that the act had occurred.

I realized, there’s an art to rough sex.

You can feel the difference between a lover who ravages you, while still being mindful and making sure that you’re both satisfied and comfortable, and one who simply wants to use you like a rag doll.

And possibly, when I first realized that I was a sub, before I knew what I know now, I let some lovers release their frustrations and use me as a stress ball because I felt that was how affection and appreciation was shown. Maybe because I thought one could FIND affection in the one who brings them peace, whatever the reason, I can no longer recall it and so see no reason to let it continue.

My views on sexual performance are pretty simple:

If I’m getting naked for you, appreciate it and treat my body well. 

If you get naked for me, I appreciate it and will treat your body well.

Experience has taught me that we don’t all view it the same way.  Possibly due to the fact that sex is so easily attainable and people seem to value exclusivity, most feel no need to make it a memorable experience for their partner, even if it’s just for one night.

Sex is usually really a trial run for me anyway, but even during that trial run, one gives their all. I don’t believe in the “It’s only once so it doesn’t REALLY have to be good” excuse.

If you want to be bad in bed, go fuck yourself.

Fuck you, Pay Me: On Business, Sex Work and Courting

I often find myself discussing sex work with possible suitors.  Probably a cringe worthy notion to some. Why would you discuss sex work with a man who’s trying to woo you? Won’t that dissuade him?

2 things.

1.   I don’t really care if it does.

2. I’ve found a person’s opinion on something like sex work says a lot about their mindset.

It’s no secret to those that know me that in the future I would love to actively work in the sex industry.  Now here, for most people, their first thought is “She wants to be a prostitute” because to them, it is the end all, be all of sex work.  This thought is usually followed by “Why would a sane [haha, I haven’t been that in YEARS] seemingly normal person willingly want to be a streetwalker?” and when we get here, I have to turn back and explain a few things.

Sex has never been taboo for me. As far back as I can remember, it’s always fascinated me beyond the prepubescent frenzy things kids shouldn’t know causes.  I’ve always wanted to understand it, how it makes people feel, what it does, the effect it has on the body and the mind.  As much as many over the years tried to dissuade me from viewing it in a non taboo way, it hasn’t worked.

I still marvel at how something so simple, so natural, has so much power.  How cleavage can cause a ruckus.  How the female body can be seen as both the Devil’s playground and  a mecca for society at large.  How a man’s body is viewed by society as a Temple, a pillar, no matter how ugly it is.  How the meeting of these two, for pleasure, for financial gain, with consent or without, is viewed  by society.  What it means.

My views on sex were never as simple as “It should only be had by people in love”.  Bodies were Legos to me.  Where’s the fun in only joining the two pieces that fit exactly together? What can you learn from that? What does it create?

Because I appreciated sex, I appreciated those who had it.  You can’t love the product and hate the producer.  Sex workers, to me, were kindred spirits.  I read about them, I watched movies about them, I wanted to know their stories, their backgrounds, who they were beyond what society says.

And I did.

And the more I understood, the more at home I felt.

I’ve often told people, writing about sex isn’t something I chose, it chose me.  The life that I live is conducive for that and honestly, it comes too effortlessly for me to NOT think it’s one of the things I’m meant to do in Life.

Oprah, Karrine Steffans and Asa Akira are the closest to role models I’ve ever had.  People worlds apart who fit perfectly in my mind when it comes to my goals.  All three women have been trail blazers in their respective fields and are celebrated worldwide for their achievements.

Oprah has an award winning mouth, Asa an award winning anus and Karrine, an award winning mind.

I deem them all glorious.

I’ve met so many women over the course of my writing career who just needed some reassurance.  A helping hand, an ear. Understanding.  And I have related to each and every one of them.

I have friends who are sex workers and I have friends who are chaste and unapproachable on the subject.  I have seen both sides and I judge neither.

A lot of people use the law to shit on the credibility of sex work.  People who watch pornography and listen to urban pop stars and have galleries full of scantily clad women will be the first to spit on a prostitute should they meet one.  Or judge women with Sugar Daddies.

A person with a favourite pornstar will be the first to yell out how whores are disgusting.

The cold, cold irony.

They pick what makes them feel morally clean without logically and critically thinking of their statements.

An escort and a porn star aren’t worlds apart.

A street walker and a stripper one can pay a little extra for other favours aren’t worlds apart.

Hell, the modern day pop star isn’t all that different from a stripper.

They all deserve respect but a lot of people don’t see this. Even in the sex industry itself there’s classism.   The porn star will think she’s better than the prostitute.  The lady with the sugar daddy will think she’s smarter than the stripper.

And that is honestly how a lot of people are.

When people ask me with thinly veiled contempt if I’d be a prostitute my response is “I wouldn’t particularly WANT to go into that avenue, I’d rather be an escort but hey..” And it’s not a classist issue for me. Hell, it’s not even a safety issue per se because at the end of the day you end up behind closed doors with a stranger.  Escorting would just be way more convenient.

No, I’m in no way trying to gloss over the problems sex workers face.  The abuse, the rapes, the loneliness and solitude, the shit side of it, but I’m saying, as a society, viewing them as unworthy of compassion or understanding, as less than, because they do what they do, is grossly hypocritical considering that in one way or the other, everyone is connected to the billion dollar industry that is.

Sex work stories need to be told.

Not just porn star memoirs, we need more honest depictions from both those who joined it out of necessity and those who joined it of their own accord. We need to make this a safer place, a stigma free place, for those who partake in it.  And I want to be a part of that transition. A part of that change.

First and foremost I dedicate what I do to educating and assisting. I’ve found I make the little difference that I do through relaying honest experiences and sharing what I’ve learned, and that isn’t changing.

That isn’t changing and I need possible suitors to understand that my mission, my journey in Life, though not set in stone, has a path, and what’s on it may not always be peachy and mainstream.

I don’t desire the “Sex work is disgusting” men. I don’t desire anyone who has a problem with what other people do to survive and thrive, that doesn’t affect them.

And so the “I’d pay for sex but sex work is immoral” people are written off.

So are the “Why don’t you do something more noble?” people.

People need protection and they need someone in their corner.  They need understanding. They need to be heard.  What they do with their bodies does not suddenly rob them of their rights, contrary to what a lot of Governments and society tends to assume.

So, if I do become a full fledged Whore, I will do so wholeheartedly. Because what is ownership of one’s self if what one does is still dictated by everyone else?

Superhead: The Brains, The Brilliance and The Blowjobs

As a woman in this society your sexual exploits tend to infamously stick with you til your dying day.  Clinton will be remembered as the President who got head in the Oval office. Monica Lewinsky, the naive, home wrecking cock sucker. Marilyn Monroe will be remembered for her beauty and skill, as well as allegedly sleeping with both the Kennedy brothers. Rihanna’s broken records and made more money than the average person’s great grandchildren combined will probably ever make, but most pop culture enthusiasts are more concerned with whose hotel room she was seen walking out of than her net worth.

This is how it is.

I’ve always loved the Mary Magdalenes of the world. Someone needs to love the “hoes” Snoop Dogg encouraged everyone to leave out in the cold.  I always want to know who they are, where they came from and what they want out of Life.  I always want to know the person behind the vilified persona.

“Superhead.”

I first heard her name on Game’s “Wouldn’t Get Far”. I had no idea who she was nor what she did, really. I just assumed she was a random video girl with a skill. After doing a bit of research, the crevices of the Internet proved I was right about one of those assumptions.  The name stands for what she’s [in]famous for and that’s how the average person seems to want to know and remember her, it seems.

So imagine my surprise to find that Karrine “Superhead” Steffans is actually a best selling author, entrepreneur, mother, certified Interior Designer and more.

That’s the shit they never tell you. That she wasn’t just a nympho hopping from video set to video set looking for victims, she was actually only on the scene for a year or so.  No one discusses her achievements since then nor how she became who she is.  No one gives her her props and most would sooner call her “the bitch who snitched”, rather than “the Island girl who wrote a book and ended up on Oprah”.

The media focuses more on her tumultuous relationship with Lil Wayne than anything else, really, and so what did she do? Write about it. [How To Make Love To A Martian].

I’m currently on my fourth book by her [The Vixen Diaries] and I absolutely adore her way of writing.  Her matter of fact way of telling her story and the introspection that comes with them have me hooked.  I’ve found reading her work to be akin to listening to an older sister tell you about life and recently, decor.

Karrine, to me, is a perfect example of the duality that exists in any woman.  She’s been strong and brave enough to NOT be boxed in by society’s definition of who a woman can and can’t be.  She’s intelligent, she’s gorgeous and she’s focused.  In my most indecisive moments I’ve found solace and guidance in her words.

She’s amazing, and although I don’t agree with all the things she says, I can’t deny that I feel that she’s a voice many a young woman need to hear.

Follow Karrine on Twitter: @KarrineandCo

And check out her site: http://karrineandco.com

Red Light Special

“Dude, I’m so horny but I’m on my period.”

“So?”

“What do you mean so?”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“Eeew. You mean..? No. Eeew.”

 

What? No really, what is it?

See I could understand being iffy about having sex with another person while on your cycle. It’s not everyone who’s willing to run the red light, so to speak, but what of masturbation? Is it also taboo during that time of the month?

We’re led to believe menstruation is filthy, and well, it isn’t the most glamorous time really.  I can often be found moaning about how it looks like a Spartan battle field down there when it’s particularly bad. However, I no longer feel the shame and emotional discomfort associated with my menstrual cycle.

The Bible tells us a woman on her cycle is “unclean” and to be avoided.

Our mothers treat it as a secret. A cross we must silently carry in our wombs.

Our partners more often than not are grossed out by it. It’s  foreign territory to them that they don’t need to explore, nor acknowledge.

And we take all of this in and internalize it.

We keep the shame, the silence and start to feel that way our own selves.

Is the fact that it’s blood what truly offends people?

Something so normal for any woman, something we will have to  experience for approximately 40 years after reaching puberty, is still considered “disgusting” yet we don’t feel the same of urinating.

Why does your menstrual cycle have to bring about despair and torture?

I mean, you feel bloated, hot flashes, you’re hungry and irritable and you deny yourself the simplest little pleasure you can give yourself too? An orgasm?

The fact is, it is your vagina, your blood, your pleasure.

To love yourself, your vagina and your pleasure, means to be with it through all it’s transformations.

What is the real shame behind pleasuring yourself  whenever you want to?

Is it the blood? Because there are tampons for that.  A shower, tampon applicator and clit rub away lies momentary relief from the vile feeling of discomfort.

Orgasms actually relieve menstrual cramps, and I personally look at them as.. making love to yourself.

So why not make love to yourself when you need it the most?

When you’re feeling disgusting and undesirable?

Wouldn’t that be the best time for said.. comforting?

Grown women are taught to repress their postpubescent body or hide it. When you start puberty and you start growing hair you’re taught to shave it, because no one’s supposed to see it. With your period, it’s something that you conceal—no one’s supposed to know. It’s almost pedophilic—and I don’t want to throw that word around. But this feminine ideology we have, of the woman being a prepubescent girl, is how we’re taught to change our bodies. – Petra Collins*

*Petra recently designed the above line drawing for American Apparel. An image that caused quite an uproar and has been described as “vile”, “disgusting” and “obscene”.

In an interview with Vice she said “That we’re so shocked and appalled at something that’s such a natural state—and it’s funny that out of all the images everywhere, all of the sexually violent images, or disgustingly derogatory images, this is something that’s so, so shocking apparently. ” It makes one realize, as a society, we’re almost always focused on the wrong thing, huh?

 

The Ladies Guide To Dating Multiple Men

Or should I say “How to get Society to label you a Ho?”

Let’s not pretend it’s not logical or even something some of us desire.  Sometimes, you simply want the company and attention of more than one man, and you have the right to get what you want, no? 

As women we aren’t all seeking to be wifed up and baking for The One. Life is like a box of chocolates, and so are men.  You never know what you might get, but it’s up to you which ones you taste and swallow. 

1. What Do You Want?

Do you want to “play the field” or are you seeking a partner to settle with? Do you simply enjoy feeling wanted? WHY do you want this? Knowing this is very important and will guide you when you reach a few snags along the way.  It’s kind of like, starting the gym and having that one picture that reminds you exactly why you do this everyday. Except a lot less, mechanical and calculated. 

2. How Do You Want It?

In the event that you’re in this for the fun of it, it’s quite important to remember that and never cross certain emotional boundaries.  If all you want out of someone is their company and possibly sex, avoid being the “I know we aren’t together but where were you last week I heard you were seen with a Lady” person.  Of course you may feel territorial, it happens, but with enough suitors you’ll find it happens less and less.

If you’re seeking a partner, it’s a different process.  Approach these men with the intent to learn about them before you’re ready to stick the “Boyfriend/Lover” label on them. Looks aren’t enough here, nor are basics manners. You can choose whomever you want , in no rush. Don’t feel the need to snag the prettiest man, or the funniest, even if you aren’t compatible. 

Take the time to weigh your options.

3. R.E.S.P.E.C.T

Avoid men who want to shame you or box you in, period.  These are decisions that you’re making about your Life based on your desires.  Seek companions who respect that, and you. 

You too should respect them and that they may be doing the same thing.

We’re all adults at this point and should feel free to lay expectations on the table. We don’t need to waste each other’s time nor drag people along who don’t understand nor feel comfortable on the ride. 

4. Discretion 

Is the first “D” you should get. No one needs to know your business. Oftentimes one finds themselves sharing every sexual experience, date and glance with friends, and really, we don’t need to do this. 

Granted, there are things you might want to share, and really feel free to. But not everything. It isn’t always necessary and it isn’t always advisable

5. Act like a Human Being, Think like a Human Being

This is not a mind game.  The plan isn’t to have minions and sex slaves clamoring for your time and adoration. 

I am not Steve Harvey and you are not stupid.

Rational, emotional human beings aren’t to be pulled into situations and treated like dirt.

6. Control

You are always in control. You decide what you want, what you can handle and what you’d rather not have. The people in your Life are those who you’ve sought out and accepted. Keep this in mind and treat them accordingly.

7. The sex

Due to society looking down on a woman who lets ANY penis into her, you might find it hard to get intimate with these partners. I say in that case, think of this as a dance rather than a gangbang. You waltz with one dick here, twerk on another there. 

A woman’s sexuality is only truly in her hands when she takes it back from society’s mold and reshapes it herself. 

You can fuck them all if you want to. 

At the same time, if they agree. 

And that’s all you.

It won’t change the world. 

It won’t bring back Jesus.

It simply will Be.

 

 

Who you choose to date, how and why is all up to you.  The fact that people have an opinion on it doesn’t mean that they have a say in it.  You have the right to know how many licks it takes to get to the center of the O, and what kind of different Licks exist, after sushi and wine.

And remember: Shame is an inherited emotion meant for ugly people. 

And Still I Rise: The Queer Version

After reading this.

And a heated Twitter rant here.

Came the following:

And Still I Rise: The Queer Version

You may write me down in history

With your bitter, twisted lies,

You may trod me in the very dirt

But still, like sluts, I fuck.

Does my sassiness upset you?

Why are you beset with gloom?

‘Cause I walk like I’ve got Beyonce chilling in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,

With the certainty of tides,

Just like Rihanna gets high,

Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops, Weakened by my soulful cries?

Are you into BDSM?

Does my haughtiness offend you?

Are you seeking a sub?

Don’t you take it awful hard,

‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got Gaga sashaying in my own backyard.

You may shoot me with your words,

You may cut me with your eyes,

You may kill me with your hatefulness,

You may try to read me,

But still, like Lindsay Lohan, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?

Does it come as a surprise

That I dance like I’ve got the fountain of Youth at the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame

I rise Up from a past that’s rooted in pain

I rise I’m a vast ocean, leaping and wide, Welling and swelling

Leyomi dropping and sashaying,

I bear in the tide.

Leaving behind nights of terror and fear I rise

Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear I rise

So don’t be a bitch, dear

Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave, I am the dream and the hope of the closeted and queer.

I rise

I rise

I rise

 

I’m disappointed.

I’m ashamed.

And I can’t say I’m shocked but sometimes, I still marvel at society’s ignorance.

This is one of those times.

Oh so Slutty

Somewhere along the line we decided only women who had experienced some sort of trauma or difficulty in Life could enjoy sex.  Daddy issues, molestation, underlying hatred for their mothers and a need for attention were all reasons why a woman may choose to “act out” sexually [and by “act out” I mean own her sexuality].  The idea was sold and bought by many. 

I used to run to “Daddy issues” when asked about my rather colourful sexual history. It wasn’t enough to say “I have sex with people because I want to”, it didn’t sit well with me either, at a time when I was afraid to be shamed and was only accepting of myself when alone. I had the confidence to have sex but not enough to wear my sexual freedom proudly. At the end of the day, when questioned about it, it always seemed easier and less shameful to play the victim. To seem helpless instead of admitting that I had simply done what I wanted to do.

As I’ve grown I’ve met a lot of women just like me. 

Women I’d share glasses of wine and sob stories with.

“My father was never home so that’s why I have sex with a lot of men. I need acceptance from a male figure. Any male figure.”

“My father cheated on my mother so I could never be faithful.  I’m doing to men what he did to her.”

“I don’t have a father so fuck men.. I’ll treat them how I want.”

And it all makes sense on some level, but for how long?

 

Eventually I had to realize that I couldn’t continue to blame my father for my actions/desires. I was too old and too intelligent for that. After a while playing the victim became redundant and I could not claim to be strong, responsible and in control if I couldn’t even own and admit to the things I did/wanted to do. 

The process of truly owning your sexuality isn’t a flawless one. It isn’t swift either. It involves dispelling myths and unlearning a lot of shame that has been instilled in us as we grow and that is hardly ever easy.  You have to know WHY you think as you do, what it means for your actions and behaviour and how to proceed from there. 

We can’t all be Samantha Jones, and I doubt even she was Samantha Jones from the very moment she became sexually active. It takes a lot for the average woman to say “I fuck because I want to and fuck you if you have an issue.” The society we find ourselves in isn’t often accepting of that. You’ll be called all sorts of names, often. You’ll be disrespected often. You’ll get “Who touched you?” more than you’d like to and a lot of people will look at you as an anomaly. 

To be a proud, sexually emancipated woman often leaves one lonely.

Other women may not want to interact with you because they, in their repressed state, believe you’re a Sex Demon from Hell sent forth to test their relationships. 

Men will treat you like an accessible porn star.

And both groups will, to a certain degree, shun you.

Because in this society, a woman who enjoys her sexuality is defined by it. She becomes it in people’s eyes. 

She is a walking, talking vagina.

A creature that does more fucking than living.

Jezebel.

A nymph. 

And knowing this, I understand why many choose to be seen as weak individuals who’re ran by their insecurities and fears instead of simply a woman who likes to have sex.

When they think you can’t help it, society is a tad bit more forgiving. The insults less creative. They’ll call you a silly slut but maybe, in your mind, the “silly” before the “slut” shows some kind of compassion. 

Understand that the same people making you feel ashamed of your desires really add nothing to your Life, so why let them take?

I can tell you this, I’ve never been broken or truly hurt in any way by the name calling.  

They are words.

Words spoken by people who lack the emotional maturity and intelligence to understand “choice” and “desire”.

Words by people who don’t respect you.

So why is their opinion relevant?

Why  are you letting their tiny brains dictate and keep you from your joy?

Fuck them. 

Fuck them all, honey. 

The Help: Sex with the Maid

Today while dropping a friend’s nephews off at home, I met their maid. A simple woman,really. Bald, dark skinned, she was in a torn t-shirt and track pants. No one worth remembering. Or at least I thought so until she picked up the toddler and turned around to walk into the house. 

 

My first thought at seeing her behind was “Fuck. Hey! How does the husband of this household function?!” after which I reminded myself that not all men cheat, while still staring at her butt in disbelief and slight admiration. I watched her walk away and kind of understood why a man may get the desire to sleep with the maid.

On the other hand, I realized, not all men who sleep with the Help could sock it down to simple Lust.

Society usually blames the woman for her husband’s cheating. There’s always something she’s lacking that made the husband stray.

You could be the breadwinner, cooking everyday, bathing the kids, washing the dishes, paying school fees, sweating wine and feeding him chocolate from your cleavage, and when that man cheats, society will look at you and say “Sure, whatever, she did all that. But she didn’t help him put on his shoes that morning. It was her fault. She should be ashamed. What did all that hard work get her anyway? She should have known her place.”

And that’s what those deep in The Patriarchy think.

A woman’s place is in the kitchen and if not there, wherever her husband wants her to be. 

If you aren’t there, you probably deserve to be treated badly because you’re a disobedient slag. 

Working class women often get the worst of it, it seems. 

In a society that is still mostly misogynistic and patriarchal, the woman who steps out of the kitchen/bedroom and decides to be more than Somebody’s Something is a sell-out. To other women, women who don’t share her views/drive, she thinks she’s better than them. How dare she? Who does she think she is? Is she saying that THEY are slaves? Stupid? Fuck her.

 

And so when Working Woman’s husband strays, maybe even leaves her for the maid, in their eyes, she deserved it because she wasn’t “playing her role”.

I began to wonder, assuming, as a working class woman, you marry a man who appreciates the path you’ve chosen, and you end up with a rather hectic workload, is it possible for the man that you settled with, no matter how open minded he may have been in the beginning, to cheat with the maid, and if so, why?

Simple Attraction

We begin to get accustomed to those we spend time with. We expect our partners to not fraternize with the Help because they’re employees and should be treated as such. But frankly speaking, it’s quite possible for the two to develop feelings for one another, whether lustful or otherwise. And in such a situation, you, as the woman of the household, have nothing to do with that. It’s easy to assume it wouldn’t have happened if you’d spent every waking moment with your partner. But who knows?

 

Basic desire/appreciation for people who take care of us

We grow fond of people who make us comfortable. Many men, with a patriarchal mindset or otherwise, might gravitate towards the maid simply because they feel cared for by her. 

Power

On the other hand, assuming these don’t apply, we get what seems to be the typical scenario. It’s a power thing. This man has a servile woman at his beck and call who gets paid to attend to him and he may not know or care that there are lines in that relationship/situation. He’s attracted to the maid not because of her person, but simply because he has power over her and in his eyes, can control her. 

Some maids are receptive but more often than not, they aren’t and they end up getting raped and remaining silent. Or adding Sex With The Sir to their list of chores to receive just a bit more at month end. 

 

Your Maid’s a Vixen

Or, you were unlucky and hired a vixen. One who made it a point to know your husband’s underwear size and schedule before she knew where the washing machine was.  And in such a situation, I can only hope you have an honest husband who’ll tell you what’s happening and not one who views the situation and sees an opportunity to make his porn fantasies come true.

Adieu.