Sexuality Happens

This post is based on thoughts I’ve been having for a long time, and then inspired by a post over at Alphafemme about the Markers of a Queer Femme.

She talks about goals she has that to her, seem very Femme.  However, if taken out of the context of her being queer, would there be any difference between a queer woman (femme identified) and a straight woman writing it.

Q and I were having a similar discussion the other night when out with a straight friend.  Q said something to her about being a Femme, and I took a little offense, but before speaking up, I asked our friend if she identified as a femme.

“Well, I like wearing heels sometimes, and make up, but it’s not like I do it every day.”

This then lead into a conversation of what does femme mean, and the different between femme and feminine. Etc.  This discussion I’ve had a lot, both online and in real life. I myself had a lot of trouble choosing the femme identity at first; I had confused it with feminine, and at the time, I was very anti the concept of feminine.  People talked to me about being a femme, and I’d answer with “but I don’t wear heels or lipstick, and I hate pink. Ergo, I can’t be a femme.”  Then, after much conversation, I realized that femme is not about skirts, or make-up, or shoes.  It’s about embodying an attitude.

Later that night, once our friend had gone home, Q and I were still talking about it.  She asked me if straight woman could be femmes (similar to a convo had online with other as to whether straight women and men could be butch).

I don’t have an answer.  But I want to say no. Why? Because *my* identity is developed around the concept of femme.  About being a strong queer woman who has femme wiles, but isn’t feminine per se. About being able to open the door but loving it when Q does it anyways. About being able to cook and then change a tire, all while wearing either jeans/t-shirt or heels and a pencil skirt.  To me, femme has become an extension of my queer-ness, a bridge between my orientation and my gender.

And it’s really hard for me to envision someone who hasn’t go through some of the things queer folk go through (disbelief as really being queer, having to fight for our rights, having our emotional and physical safety challenged, having our partners made fun of, etc) still being able to understand and embody that identity. To me, being femme is when someone calls Q “lady” and I comfort her and assure her than she is really such a handsome boi.  Being femme is when I can talk to people about gender who would never listen to someone who presents as gender queer. Femme is when someone says “that’s so gay” about his friend at the grocery store, and I tap them on the shoulder and say “no….I’m gay. The end.”

Am I being a gender hog? Perhaps.  I *know* deep down that it shouldn’t fucking matter. I’ve met queer men who identify as femme, and I don’t have as much of an issue. Gender isn’t a line or anything — it’s a schmorgasboard, and you can pick and choose exactly how you identify. If you want to be a glitter slut tranny boi fag, you can do it. So I’m not sure why I have such issues with straight women identifying as Femmes, but it’s totally a hang up for me.

Does it mean that straight women can’t be femme? Of course not. I’m not the gender police.  On the other hand, does it mean I’m uncomfortable with the terminology appropriation, just like I am when I cis-guy tells me he’s “just like all the other dykes I know”?  Yes. Very much so.

Thoughts?

-Essin’ Em

One of my favorite sex educators, the lovely Tristan Taormino, has just published another fabulous book.  Now, I hold her book Opening Up on various types of relationships (both non-monogamous and monogamous) to be the best in the field, and her book Down and Dirty Sex secrets is one of my favs.  I’m happy to say that her newest book, the Big Book of Sex Toys, does NOT disappoint, and I think is absolutely stunning.

In the past, there have been one or two other books on sex toys. However, the sex toy field has definitely evolved and changed drastically in the last decade, and we needed new material.  Moreover, we needed from someone who knows toys, loves toys, works with and is around toys on a regular basis. Thanks Tristan for stepping up to the plate.

This book talks about toys as a whole, breaking down categories, talking about materials, going from the broad to the specific, covering everything. I didn’t see as much as I would have liked on either kegels/sex toys for kegels, or on sex toys that are great for disabilities, but other than that, I was incredibly impressed by the amount of both breadth and depth of this book.  Tristan really knows her stuff (and knows how to research) and it shows.

My one issue with the book is that while there are absoultely stunning color pictures throughout, with close ups of the toys (although some pictures are used multiple times), and while these pictures contain some racial diveristy, there is certainly no gender or orientation diversity, none the less size and ability diversity.  However, I don’t fault Tristan for this; I know that certain publishers like certain looks for their books, and sometimes go over the author’s head regarding the photography.  Sad, yes, but it happens.

That said, this is an amazing reference book, and while I think anyone would do well to have it, I would specifically and emphatically recommend it to  sex bloggers/sex toy reviews, sex therapist/counselors, sex educators, and anyone who works with people in the field of sexuality. It’s important to know about toys, about materials, and the back of the book has an excellent reference guide pointing out great sex toy stores, sex toy companies, and much.

I give this book 4.5 stars (out of 5). It loses half a star for a combo of the lack of diversity/little bits of missing info I’d like, but I HIGHLY recommend this book, and will definitely be giving it as a present to many of my friends in the future.  Hats of to Tristan for yet another great book!

Click here to get your own copy of the Big Book of Sex Toys!

-Essin’ Em

The lovely Thursday’s Child posed a question to me on my formspring the other day. Well, a few weeks back. It took me a while to answer, because I really wanted to figure out how to say what I meant.

And now I want to share it with you.  This was her question:

How has coming out in public as Essin’ Em affected both your personal and public life? Would you encourage other sex bloggers to come out and live openly as you do?

And this was my answer:

I’ve been very lucky.  And some of my luck was lucky (accepting friends/family, finding jobs I like within the adult industry, etc), and some of it was determination/stupidity (I am determined to make things I care about and find important acceptable enough for people to be able to talk about, and I don’t really give a flying moose’s ass if people don’t like me because I’m sex positive).

That said, sometimes it’s hard. When I broke up with F, I lost some readers that were her real life friends. But I don’t write for readers per se, so it was ok.  Conversely, when Q and I started getting serious, she asked me to take my blog link off of networked blogs on Facebook (it would post new content daily) because she didn’t want her friends reading about the sex we had. Now that Essin’ Em and Shanna K are much more synonymous, many of them have found my blog anyways. So Q and I talked, and she’s ok with that happening…but I can’t put it on FB now, cause I’m connected to her mother.

I understand that not everyone has the ability to “come out” as I have. Not everyone has a job that reveres (or even understands) their sexuality background. Some people have jobs that would fire them.  Some people have families that might reject them or judge them (AAG has had this issue). There are many reasons not to.

However, I never live in fear of being revealed. I never have to decide who gets to know my real name vs. my pen name. I never worry about what happens if I accidentally sign the wrong name, or if an affiliate program (goddess forbid) gets hacked. I can be proud of all the work I’ve done, including my blog (and as we all know, writing a regular blog IS a lot of work).

For those who can’t come out for safety (mental/emotional/physical) reasons, including family/work/etc, I validate. But to everyone else, if you CAN come out as someone who is sex-positive/queer/kinky/poly/etc, as someone who enjoys sexuality, as someone who talks about it in a non hush-hush way, then please do. The world needs to know that people have sex, and enjoy it, and that diversity amongst sexuality is ok.

I have the privilege of being able to “come out.” So I did. It’s hard at times, when I’m trying to protect Q, or when people who might creep me out add me on my Shanna profile (I’ve since taken off more specific location info). But all in all, it’s worth it.

-Essin’ Em

Q is genderqueer. For the most part, she identifies as a butch dyke.  For the most part, she uses feminine pronouns. When we’re in public, and there are no gender neutral bathrooms, she chooses to use the women’s bathroom, if she really really really has to go and there are no other options.  So yes, she is a “woman” by many cultural standards.

But she isn’t one. She’s genderqueer.  Everyone morning, I watch her put on two sports bras (or the new Frog bra/binder I got her) to try and squish down her chest, and every night I watch as she takes them off, angry red lines around her ribcage the only evidence of how hard she tries to hide what she feels doesn’t fit her gender.

There are times where it takes us an hour or two to get ready to go out, not because we have to look perfect, but because that day, her hips seem to show too much in outfits, or her chest isn’t flat enough for the shirts she wants to wear. I look at her and tell her how handsome she is, how much she looks like a frat boy (minus the popped collar), but it seems as though nothing I say can convince her.

Sometimes, there are mini (or maxi) gender melt downs.  Something usually triggers it; something someone said to her (like calling us ladies), something I said that I didn’t realize. Or maybe it’s looking in the mirror, or not having clothes fit the way she wants.  She’s start crying, and she’s inconsolable. I understand why…but I WANT to fix it, and feel completely powerless and inept that I can’t.  It’s similar to when I have disability melt downs; there’s nothing anyone can say to make it better; it’s both an internal issue and a social contruction, and nothing can just make you feel better or make it go away.  So I lie there with her, and I hold her.

It’s hard. I wish there was an answer. When I was in Denver, she called me in tears; someone, a high school student on campus for some conference, had called her out in the women’s bathroom, asking her what she was doing in there.  Half of me wanted to tell her it was going to be ok, tell her to fuck ‘em, tell her that I loved her (which I did), but the other half wanted to say CONGRATS! You’re getting viewed the way you want to be.  You’re making people think outside the binary.  But I didn’t. Why? Because that doesn’t make it any easier given that she’s going to have to go to the women’s restroom at work every day. She’s the only genderqueer appearing staff member in her building (and one of very few on campus). She’s very alone.

While I have issues with Femme Invisibility, I know my frustration with that doesn’t even hold a candle to this. I just can’t imagine how she feels. I wish I could hold her and fix it and make it better. I wish it was “just” an issue of money; I’d say up, and get her top surgery, and it would all be better.

But this runs so deep. It is entrenched in many layers of herself, and in many aspects of society.

So what so I do? How can I be there? What does support look like? I’ve aksed her…sometimes she answers, and sometimes she tells me that she doesn’t even know.

I don’t know what I’m asking here. Tips? Ideas? Empathy?

-Essin’ Em

Do you live in the Phoenix area? If so, what are you up to tonight?

Why:

Tonight, I, along with representatives from Wet, Tantus and Fun Factory, will be running the open house at the Fascinations in Tempe, AZ. Come chat with me, talk toys, ask sex/uality questions, meet our new vulva puppet (oh yes, she talks!), and much more.

Where:

838 W. Elliot 
Tempe, AZ 85284
Ph: 480-222-0040 

When: 

6pm-8pm

How:

No reservations needed, and no cost. Just show up, learn more about lubes and toys, and talk with a sex educator.

Who:

Me, of course (www.ShannaKatz.com), and reps from many of your favorite toy companies. It should be fun, informations, and hopefully everyone will get something interesting out of it.

Want more info on Fascinations? Visit www.FunLove.com, or check out the Fascinations Fun Love Blog.

Thanks to the oh so lovely site VibeReview, I’ve gotten a set of Fun Factory Bendy Beads to review.

Now, if you know me, or have read me for any time, you know I’m not a huge fan of the butt sex. I’m certainly no Tristan Taormino.

I’ve tried. I have. J and I gave it a go (both directions), as did F and I.  With J, it involved some epic emotional release on both our parts, and while that was much needed, we just didn’t go there again.  F and I were interested in trying to explore more, but then with all the trust issues and breaking up, that obviously didn’t happen.

However, while chatting with Jiz Lee last January in San Francisco, I got convinced that I wanted to try some actual anal, at some point.  Not because I think it’s hot or awesome or the end all be all of sex, but because it seems like some people have a ton of fun with it. And because I’m adventureous and like doing new things.

So I asked for some anal beads. I figured they’d be a good start.  And they were. However, a large line of black bendy beads was a little intimidating to me and my little butt home.

They’re made of 100% medical grade silicone (so it means to clean, you wash them in soap and water. To sterilize, boil them 3-5 minutes, wipe them down with 10% bleach solution, or dishwash them on the top shelf with no soap).  However, as a reminder, make sure you use water-based lube with them, as silicone-based can reacted badly with the other silicone.

I’m still working on these. Apparently, I have a shy butt. Add to that a new job, not a ton of alone time, and stress, and getting things in my ass has become a little difficult.  I’ve been able to get the first two in. And you know what, for me, that’s a success.  This is definitely going to be a process.  However, that’s ok.  If anything, it’s good for people do know that not everyone goes from butt virgin to anal queen over night.

This is a good product. It’s actually probably a great product.  I’ll let you know as I get to test it out more.  I might also invest in a Flexi Felix, as I think he’s a little bit smaller and less intimidating.

And that, my dead readers, is the first step of what may become an epic anal adventure.

Click here to get your own set of Bendy Beads.

Photo Credit: Hawksdream

I like breasts. I like Q’s, I like other people’s breasts. I even like my breasts.

I used to not like them. I used to hate them. I researched breast surgery…but not to make them bigger, no no, to make them smaller.  They gave me back pain, kept me from getting into outfits I wanted (most memorable was the sweetheart dance my senior year of HS – I was a 16 year old with DDs, and couldn’t find a single dress at JCPenny’s that my boobs fit into), they got me the kind of attention I didn’t want.

I decided against the reduction surgery because I learned about it, and how it could dull the sensation, and worse set, how they could just “grow back” in more than a third of the people having the surgery. I chose to just deal with them.

Over time, I’ve learned to love them. For sometime, I could have orgasms just from breast stimulation. That is not the case anymore, but it made me love them more. I learned that I can put my hands on/under them to keep warm, and that they’re good for carrying my cell phone when I have no pockets.

In fact, the other day, I realized that they’d shrank a bit.  I was now a small D/large C.  I wasn’t losing weight — to the contrary, I’d gained 20 pounds during and after the move. So why were they shrinking? And moreover, why was I upset?

Why? Because I had learned to love my body. Because I think MY breasts are beautiful, and anyone that disagrees with me can just bugger off. Yes, they’re big. Yes, they’re a little lopsided (ok, about a cup size in difference).  Either way, I love them, and I really love this picture of them.  So yay boobies, and all that jazz.

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday!

-Essin’ Em

Our friends had just left, after we all watched Q’s team, the Jets, get their Superbowl hopes crushed.  I’d been telling them both about the Crash Pad Series, and it was still up on the screen.

“Wanna watch some porn” Q asked me, her hand on my knee.

“I thought you didn’t like porn…” I asked her questioningly.  She’d grudgingly sit through much of the porn I’d watch, but has never seen me in anything I’ve shot, and never seemed interested in purposely watching porn.

“I know, but YOU do. It turns YOU on.  So why don’t you show me some of your favorite scenes?”

After a moment of pondering as to what her plan was behind this sudden change of heart, I logged in and started clicking through. I knew which scene I wanted to show her; Dylan Ryan and Trucker Cash’s second scene shot for CPS – in the new location, on the edge of the bed.  Q and I have a very similar dynamic to these two, or at least to the way they play things out during their scenes. Moreover, I still find this scene one of the hottest queer porn scenes I’ve ever seen…and I’ve seen a lot. They have connection, they have fucking hot sex, they have everything.

I started the scene, and Q and I lazily draped limbs over each other on the couch as the scene started playing out.  Almost immediately, I started getting more and more turned on, and as Q’s hands began to wander, I thought she was feeling the same.

As usual, I was right. We only made it about halfway through the scene before Q was slamming my laptop shut and pulling me towards the bedroom. Usually, she likes it when I top her, make her call me Mistress, tie her up. Not today. Her lips pressed into mine as she forced me down onto the edge of the bed, perching on the edge as we devoured each other, her hands ripping off my clothes with no attempt at sensuality or romance. None was needed.

Once I was complete stripped, clothes scattered on the floor, she used her hand on my throat to press me back into the bed, the other hand grasping and pulling my nipples. I started to protest, asking if she didn’t want me on the bed, didn’t want me to take her clothes off, etc. She shhed me, and started moving her head lower.

Her lips met mine, and without meaning to, my body bucked up into her mouth. Her tongue danced across my clit; lightly at first to tease, and then with enough pressure to really frustrate me. She knows I love oral but can’t come from it, so she stayed there, on her knees, eating me out as I thrashed about on the bed, so horny, so frustrated, wanting more and not getting it. With one hand wrapped in her hair, pulling her closer into me, the other grabbed the sheets off the bed, reaching, needing to be holding something.

She pumped lube into her hand, and as she slid two fingers into me, she pulled me up to kiss her. It was a deep, wild, completely uncontrolled kiss, with me gasping; both for air, and because her digits were slowly turning my cunt intro a dripping puddle.  It took everything in me to get out the solitary word; towel.

Quizzically, she looked at me until the little lightbulb when off in her head.  Frantically, one hand still partially inside me, she looked around for a towel to stick under me, knowing that as soon as she really started fucking me, a torrent of liquid was going to start squirting from me.  

Having found one, she placed it hastily under my ass, and returned to her knees, this time putting another finger in me, bringing the grand total to three. Three fingers that she worked in and out and in and out of me until I began to come. So hard. Over and over. Then a fourth.  Her whole hand, aside from her thumb, was pounding into me as she ripped orgasm after orgasm after orgasm out of me, grunts, moans, groans and screams coming from my mouth like some possessed primal being. Finally, just when I thought I couldn’t take anymore, she handed me the Hitachi. 

Again, I came. And came. And came. I felt like I’d fallen off the edge of the earth and was drowning in the atmosphere, unable to breathe or move or stop coming.

Then she brought me down again. Climbed up on the bed to hold me. Reminded me how crucial breathing was to living.  At some point, with her next to me, I returned to Earth, smiling, but oh so high, doped up on endorphins.

And then. as she ran her fingers over my body. I shivered. Just a little, but she caught it.

“What do you want? You want more? You can take more?”

I nodded just a little. “I might need a little bit. To calm down, to get water, I don’t know.”

Without another word, she was back on her knees, her whole hand in me, fucking me again. I came again, and lost all grip on reality. For the next few minutes, I couldn’t think speak act know be. I just was. I was coming and coming until I didn’t think there was anything left in me, and then I’d come again. I remember the Hitachi being back in my hands at some point. I know I must have been screaming really loudly, because I remember he hand over my mouth, much hotter and much less effective than any gag would ever be.

And then I shattered, and fell into pieces. There was no more, nothing left in me.

And she picked me back up, and cuddled me on the bed, stroking my hair, moving me out of the epic puddle I’d created, despite the towel. She kissed me gently, helped me drink some water to sooth my aching throat, and together, we lay there, reconnecting.

Who would have thought a little porn could have inspired so much?

Check out all this awesomeness that is happening this month (February) at the feminist/queer art gallery Femina Potens in San Francisco. It’s run by one of my favorite porn peeps, the lovely and talented Madison Young, and if you’ll note, there will be not one, but TWO classes taught by me on the 27th AND I’ll be reading some erotica that night at Sizzle.  As if that wasn’t enough, there are more exciting events going on THIS weekend, an art show this month, and a lap dance by the oh so sexy Rita Seagrave (I met her once at Thunder and almost swooned).

For more info, check out ShannaKatz.com, FeminaPotens.org or click on the flyer below for a larger image.

I’ll also be teaching at the Center for Sex and Culture on the 25th and 26th (including my infamous Vaginal Fisting for One and All class), and am hoping to meet up with some porn people, sex bloggers and more while I’m out there.

Lots of people have posted this…so I’m going to be a total sheep and join the group. Yup. My apologies for a less than original post, but at least you’ll get to know a bit more about me.

-Essin’ Em

1. Your role?

I know people want the answer to be dom/dub/mistress/switch/bottom, etc. I DO pro-domme, and then, I identify as Mistress. Otherwise, my role is as a pervert or kinkster. I like what I like, I wanna try new things, I like to pull duct tape off my Moose, and I like to tie Q up, and I love getting fire cupped and lit on fire and I love it when Q puts her hand over my mouth or around my throat. Ergo, no roles. Just kinkster.

2. Current relationship?

Mostly monogamous with Q. I play kink wise with other people, and I fist people for classes, and I shoot porn with other people. However, as far as having sexual and/or emotional relationships (other than close friendships), Q and I are currently exclusive.

3. Your favorite type of play?

Oooh.  Fire play or knife play. Maybe the violet wand, but I haven’t done it enough.

4. Your most hated type of play?

Not interested in trying roman showers at all. Ever. Either side.  Also, I’m against play involving bad grammar…so M/s or D/s relationships that involve typing W/we and Y/you.

5. The most annoying habit of your owner/slave/whatever you call your SO?

I call her my lover mostly. Or partner. Anyways…umm. Lately, she’s been to tired for sex. That makes me sad, although I completely validate it. Annoying? Hmmm. Not putting enough towels under me…I always soak the bed.

6. Your deepest fear?

Spending my life alone.

7. Your most memorable public experience (or what you would like to do in public)?

I like having public sex. Q does not.  Ergo, my favorite public experience is my fisting class at the Denver Sancuary in January. 50 people came to see me fist someone – standing room only! (visit ShannaKatz.com for more classes/workshops)

8. What gets you in the mood?

Anything to do with my neck. The sounds of a hitachi. Fire.

9. Favorite method of masturbation?

I honestly can’t remember the last time I masturbated.  Almost a year maybe?

10. Scariest thing you’ve seen or heard of in BDSM land?

People doing suspension involving neck ties because they were “edge players.”  Also, people putting things in butts that didn’t have a good base.

11. Number of hours you spend on Fet when you should be doing other things?

Too many.  Actually, it’s not really that bad. Are you my fetlife friend?

12. Thing that was hotter in fantasy than it was in reality?

Threesome. For sure.

13. Most longed-for experience?

Queer gang bang.  Preferrably on film.

14. Ouchiest toy?

Canes. I like hitting people with them, but do NOT want them to touch me. Period.

15. Book or movie that every newbie has to read/see?

Opening Up, by Tristan Taormino

16. Thing you’d like to change about yourself?

I’d have less chronic pain in my knees and body as a whole.

17. Thing you’re most proud of?

Continuing to hold my values and ethics as I become a professional perv.

18. Funniest dom name you’ve ever heard?

90% of scene names make me laugh.  I validate them, but SO not my style.

19. Do your family and friends know?

Yup. Everyone except my extended family in FL and Israel.

20. Is twenty questions too many?

Obviously not.