Another post-Thunder in the Mountains picture from my night as Super Queer, showing off both my rainbow-tastic socks (bought while checking out the pier in San Francisco with the lovely Margaret and her family) and amazing rainbow zebra print shoes (apparently, they are called Zebracorns, due to the rainbow zebra unicorn inside, and come in both flats, which I am wearing, and heels).  I was so glad that the socks fit over my giant swelled up legs, post SynVisc injections, and that they continue to make cute shoes in flats, as I’m not longer allowed to wear heels for many medical reasons.

I have thoughts on rainbows; I don’t quite get why some people are so obsessed with wearing them for the queer/LGBTQ movement, and why some people are so incredibly against them as a symbol of this same movement. I have my own thoughts on them, but for now, I wear them where I am Super Queer, the queerest super hero/moose topping machine of them all.

And with that, Happy HNT to you all!

-Essin’ Em

And this one is 100% Buck Angel and his awesome-sauce-ness about trans guys, and their health care.

Thank you to both of these fabulous performers for bringing attention to such an important sexuality issue. Way to go you two – thanks so much for talking about trans men with cervixes, and trans women with prostates, and all sorts of other differences that might keep people out of the doctor’s offices, when they really need check ups just as much as anyone else.

If you have good suggestions for resource lists for doctors who are LGB and especially T and Q friendly, please feel free to share!

-Essin’ Em

Super Queer at Thunder

At Thunder this weekend, before all my knee drama, I had two scenes planned, one with my moose, and one with a woman who had contacted me on FetLife.

I needed to do it up. I missed getting dressed up for local scene parties in Denver, which I have yet to find the same of in Arizona I miss doing it up, being silly, adding on the theatrics. So I did it up, and went as Super Queer, cape and all. I punished my moose for not masturbating for FIVE whole days while wearing rainbows and glitter and my Super Queer cape. There had even been plans to cock beat her with her own cock.  It was pretty fabulous.

And so, see above the upper half of my Super Queer outfit (more to be published in the future).

-Essin’ Em

My sexy pose

Sorry I didn’t get a review up today — promise I’ll have one next week. For now, enjoy the cuteness of this pussy’s sexy post!

Do you know who Justin Bieber is? I had no clue until I spend Christmas with Q’s family in Long Island, and her teenage twin cousins gushed about him, how amazing he was, etc. When I first heard his music, it sounded very similar to a lot of dyke performers I’d heard, and so I assumed it was either a women named Justin, or someone trans/genderqueer, etc.  I was told that this wasn’t the case, just someone who had a higher voice. Gotcha.

I heard his songs on the radio occasionally, and never really thought about it again.

Until this website, Lesbians Who Look Like Justin Bierber, innundated my inbox, twitter and facebook. There are a lot of dykes out there that look like Justin, and he even tweeted that he’d been ask if he was “that chick from the L-Word” before.

So my thought was this…what if Justin wasn’t a cisgender teenage guy? What if he was someone who transitioned and passed easily as male? Or what if he is someone genderqueer identified? Would it just be wonderfully amazing if this teenage heart throb that teens and tweens (mostly girls, but I’m guess some guys too) are just pining over happened to be genderqueer or trans in some way? Wouldn’t it be wonderful if they could show the world that lust/love/passion etc is based on looks and “personality” (I mean, do you ever really know the personality of a celeb?), rather than “gay” or “straight” or “man” or “woman?”

I am in no way saying that Justin is trans or gender queer or queer at all. It doesn’t really matter what his gender is in relation to his fame. I was just thinking about how amazing it would be if we could get more awesome genderbending and/or trans people into the lime light, groupies and all, and show the world that people fall in love with the emo look (or the metal look, or the pop look, etc) and the music, and the persona people present, NOT in love with someone’s birth sex/genitalia. I mean, look at the drama about Lady Gaga — people still love her (and I love her for never actually confirming OR denying the story, just saying that it didn’t matter), but they had to tell themselves so many times out loud that there was just no way that she was trans or intersex.

Why the hell should it matter? We love celebs, especially musicians for the art they make, the way they make us feel. I love that Lady Gaga and Justin Bieber and other artists are starting to blur the line of feminitity and masculinity, and slowly but surely change the way our culture looks at people.  Ten years ago, both these artists would have been laughed at, as people tuned to NSync, the Backstreet Boys and other bastions of “proper” male sexuality.

So you go Justin (and all the lesbians who look like you); way to queer pop music just a little, even if you didn’t mean to.

-Essin’ Em

Note: This post was written while on pain meds. Please excuse any ridiculousness.

My friend Maren Bergeson (who doesn’t yet have a website, but is AWESOME) designed me this awesome piece (above) for promoting safer sex. If you like it, feel free to repost it. If you think it’s hilarious, you can get it on t-shirts, tote bags and more on my cafe press site.

I’m a big fan of safer sex, and I love that I now have a super fantabulous and awesome way to promote it.

Thanks Maren, for your super fanabulous and ridiculously awesome (and a little silly) design skillz. Oh yes, with a Z.

-Essin’ Em

Image Source

I haven’t gotten to celebrate May Day since I was a small kid and my school did some version on playground equipment with crepe paper streamers. But May, for the most part, is a good month.

April is not, was not, never is a good month.  In April was the Oklahoma City Bombings, Columbine, my father’s death, the passing of ridiculous legislation in AZ (SB 1070 on racial profiling), OK (incredibly horrible abortion laws), LA (rejecting LGBT adoption), etc, it was the leaving out of a non gender conformin student from their senior year book, it was hateful prom drama for lesbian teens, it was car frustration and drama, it was getting left behind while Q went to NY without me, it was being robbed and violated, it was, as always, just a bad month.

But May? May I can do. Sure, in the past it contained finals, and graduations where no one seemed to care (I’ve never gotten cent for gradution; not HS, college or grad school…hell, when I finished grad school, I didn’t even get a greeting card or an email “congrats”).  Sure, in 1999, my house burned down, killing my two kittes, and messing up my life as we lived in a townhouse while our house was rebuilt.

That’s not all though. May contains flowers, and celebration, and re-birth, and fertility (not only in wombs, but as a whole). May can be an incredibly beautiful, wonderfully affirming  lovely month.

And despite the ridiculous heat in Arizona, despite the racial tensions almost at a boiling point, I have decided to make May an excellent month.

I’m teaching two classes for Fascinations, both in AZ (May 13th) and Portland (May 20th) on Navigating Love: Relationship Mapping. I’m going to attend, and lead a workshop on sexuality and disability at Sex 2.0 in Seattle (and room with Megan!). I’m going to shot 4 episodes on reclaiming the hottness of masturbation in porn for Point of Contact. My adorable little Moose is coming to visit me (and shoot for POC).

April is over, and there is no fondness in my fare thee well. But May is here, and pole or not, I celebrate this coming month!

-Essin’ Em

(Special thanks to Matt at Fascinations for rocking out with the video stuff!)

Half of me finds it really funny. Why? Because I’d heard all of these, and had all of them done to me/used on me.  Far more often than I’d like to admit.  And I think that in many cases, humor catches people, starts conversation, etc.

The other half of me wants to find a better name for it. Because not all straight men (not even all stupid straight men) say these things…and honestly, dykes say really bigoted things too, like knocking down “breeders” and kink people often tell “vanilla” people that they just haven’t found their kink yet. I wrote about this type of discrimination here on my professional site.

So yes, it’s funny.  But I think that when we share funny things like this, we also need to have some sort of discussion about how we can change this, and how we can ourselves not be discriminatory to other groups because we hold on to our own identities so strongly (as do the “stupid straight men” represented here).

Just my two cents…

-Essin’ Em

Q doesn’t like it. I personally think it’s an awesome word, and while I prefer cunt, I think vagina is just fine-a. Q disagrees. She thinks it is an uncomfortable awkward word, and wanted to know where it came from. I explained that it came from the Latin word for sheath. She quickly poo-poohed this, and went on to ramble on and on about how they should take the Latin word for “loving, granting,…”

And then she trailed off.  She couldn not quite articulate what she wanted the word to be, but she knew she just plain ol’ didn’t like the current term of vagina.

Now, I personally dislike most terms for vagina. I’m ok with pussy, but it’s not really sexy to me. No-no place is a no no,  hoo-haa makes me cringle, snatchula is awesome but only in a funny “oh, did you fall down and accidently kick your little snatchula with your skates” (at roller derby practice) way, snatch and crotch seem so high school, cooter just makes me want to gag, and so on. Both of us love CUNT, but there are times and places where it’s not quite as appropriate to say.

So we talked about it, trying to figure out what she didn’t like about the word vagina. I may have rapped about vaginas. Really. And sung some vagina opera for her. Yes, yes I did. But nothing could sway her mind. She did NOT like the term vagina, and nothing I said or did could change her mind.

I asked her what type of term she’d like to replace vagina.

“Something either awesome and powerful, like cunt, or more soft and flowy and nice.”

I asked her again, like what.

“I don’t know like gorgonzola.”

I started at her for almost a full minute, eyes big, and then we both burst out laughing.  Once we regained our breath, she explained that she had no idea why that came out, and she didn’t like it at all, especially for vagina, since it’s a strong smelling cheese, but it’s now a fabulous inside joke.

That said, what word SHOULD replace vagina, if we were going to make up a completely new word? Cave of wonders if pretty awesome, but it’s a bit long…

-Essin’ Em