Sexuality Happens

As some of you know, this year the New York City Sex Bloggers Calendar is going national in their search for models. I really really really want to be a part of it.

I need your help times 2.

A) I’m trying to figure out a good “pose.”  As their site says, it should represent sexual sexual freedom, what it means to you, how you express it.  I had several ideas, from doing a blind lady justice thing with scales and hand cuffs and rainbows, to being suspended in rope with my cane. I just don’t know.  I express sexual freedom by being me; by being open and honest and educatory and transparent and loud and stubborn everyday. How do I express that visually? I’d love any ideas you may have.

B) I’m in need of a photographer.  I love love love working with Michael Barone, and I think this is right up his alley. However, he lives in Pennsylvania, and I won’t be going there before May. I also contacted a local photographer I’ve met here in Phoenix who I think does excellent work and would get the whole sexual freedom thing, but she hasn’t responded to me.  This is where you come in; do you know someone in the Phoenix/Tucson area that would be interested and does great photography?  Or someone in RI (I’ll be there March 15th and 16th) or NY (I’ll be on Long Island April 1-4th)?

Any advice, suggestions, support, etc would be very much appreciated!

<3

-Essin’ Em

Photo Source

Having a partner who identifies as “GQ” on Fetlife, and many friends that identify publicly as genderqueer, it is amazing how difficult it is to definite the word.

In starting my new group, I mentioned (when talking about what a safe space looks like),that instead of making assumptions, it’s always better to ask.  The example I gave was that instead of just staring at someone genderqueer identified, wondering what the hell it means, it’s always better to just ask.

So some awesome, open-minded person messaged me, and asked me just that. What IS genderqueer?

I get asked this question a lot. And it’s hard everytime. How do you define something that, in essence, is trying to be outside of definition.

This was my quick answer to her:

Genderqueer is an identity that is pretty fluid. It usually goes for someone who doesn’t identify as male, female, or trans (in that they are not transitioning from one sex to another). They may identfy as more masculine or more feminine, or neither, or they may have days where they feel more masculine, and then days where they feel more feminine, or they may even reject the gender binary completely. Instead of saying “well, I guess my gender is ____” and having to check a box, they’ve decided that their gender is exactly what it is, how they feel it is that day, and so on. Similar to the orientation of “queer” this is the gender version of it.

And it works as a quick answer. Yes, genderqueer is queering the gender binary, in a similar way that queer is queering the orientation binary/trinary.  But I just feel a little unsatisfied. Really, how do you explain gender queer?

So I’ve decided to open it up to the interwebs at large. Y’all are smart people. I mean, yes, you can google it. You can look at the wikipedia page, you can read all you want.  The internet is a wonderful thing.

But that doesn’t always put forth an answer. I’ve found that the definition of queer varies immensely depending on who you ask, so I can only assume that gender queer is the same way.

I ask of you: WHAT IS GENDERQUEER?  Whether you identify as such, or have partner/friends/family who does, or have no correlation to it, I want to hear your thoughts and definitions as to what genderqueer is/means/is defined/etc.

Ready? GO!

-Essin’ Em

Since moving to Arizona, I’ve tried to get involved in many communities, including multiple facets of the kink community here in Phoenix.  Within the first two weeks, we’d joined three groups, been to a kink carnival and orientation, and a women only play party, not to mention a munch or two. I tried to meet people, to make things work, to fit in.

While we made a few select friends, for the most part, we didn’t fit. There are very few queer identified people out and about to start, and even less in the kink community. In several groups, we’re the only queer identified couple.  At the women’s only event, I received a little bit of femme bashing, and Q felt incredibly out of place. And queerness aside, we felt very out of place because we not attach a D/s dynamic to our relationship, and it seems as though almost everyone here is very staunchly identified as top or bottom, Dom(me) or sub, and we don’t.  We don’t even identify as switches.  While occasionally she’ll call me Mistress during sex, or I’ll call her Sir while all tied up, we don’t play with power much. We’re just kinky, and that doesn’t seem to be an option.

I decided to start a new group here; AlternaKink. For those of us who don’t play within the typical power structure of BDSM, those who are queer or have different gender presentations and don’t feel comfortable in the current spaces, for those who like to laugh while playing, and who are alternative.

And cue the storm of “oh my god, you’re a horrible person, you’re not community oriented, you’re fracturing the community.”  Never mind that I specifically noted that I respected the other groups, planned to stay of member of them, and was just trying to create a safe space and additional options.  There aren’t even parties every weekend here, none the less a choice of “should we go here, or here.”

Apparently, everytime someone has tried to start another group here, they’ve been shouted down, told that they’re community wreckers, and been sabotaged in a variety of ways. Well, that actually comes after the guilt trip; I had comments, messages and wall posts telling me that the current (and only) public dungeon in Phoenix IS a safe space, is queer friendly, has no problems, and that I should just shut the fuck up (essentially). Then, there where the offers of having my new group meet at and rent space from the current (and only) public dungeon.  Why branch out? Stay here, with this dungeon, in the community. Don’t do your own thing. Don’t create a space. Here, come, drink the kool aid.

Please don’t tell me a space is safe if I don’t feel safe there. If I, who am stubborn and annoying and go out of my way to meet people, feel uncomfortable, judged, and unwelcome, don’t tell me that is invalid. If when I suggest going to a play party, my partner tells me she does not feel comfortable going there, do not tell me that I’m just “making things up” or “haven’t tried.”

Communities thrive when there are lots of branches of the same tree. In this anaology, the tree is kink. If there is only one big branch weighing down the whole tree (said public dungeon), nothing new grows, nothing thrives, and eventually, the tree falls over and dies.  If there are lots of groups, that create new opportunities and spaces (both physical and conceptual), their is constant growth, and the tree continues to grow and thrive over time. New buds come (new members joining the community), old buds bloom, and everything is well and good. I can be a member of and support a community by creating a new place for people who feel they don’t fit in the old one.

Sometimes I meet people who have been to one kink event, and hated it. They don’t want to go back because they don’t identify as D/s, or as part of a leather family, or because they got stared at for having full sleeves, or short hair cuts, or for appearing gender queer.  Instead of just telling these people (myself included) to fuck off and kick them to the curb, why not create a new space in the community, and welcome them with open arms.  While they may not be on the same main branch of the tree, they are at least IN the community, instead of feeling like outsiders.

I know, I’ve set myself up for a lot of crap coming my way. Yes, it’ll be a struggle. But our first coffee/tea meet up is tomorrow, and I have hope.

Why? Because I WANT to be part of this community. I don’t want to feel like I don’t fit in. I want to grow and change and have fun and play and light people on fire and beat them up, and hope is what makes change happen.

Photo Credit: Hawksdream

To those of you who may have missed the multiple but sometimes not attention grabbing memos, I am, when not writing under this pen name, Shanna Katz, M.Ed.  Sexuality Educator and fisting faciliator and all that jazz.

In order to find out where I’m going to put on classes/workshops/trainings,etc, to hire me to teach/consult/train/lecture/etc, to learn about me, to find out about sex coaching I can provide, to contact me regarding sexuality education, etc…

I’d like to present the new, and oh so improved (thanks to the lovely AAG!), and accented with leopard print (of course!),

ShannaKatz.com

That is all. Please enjoy. I have some blog posts there (more educations/news based/informative) than the ones on here, I have my schedule, contact info, and so on.  Have fun, and enjoy your Saturday.

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

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 Katz 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 Katz 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

I’m not a very spontaneous person, but last Wednesday, I did a very spontaneous thing. I book last minute stand by flights to and from New York so I could go home with Q for Christmas.

I’m Jewish. Christmas has never been a big deal to my family. Perhaps brunch at a nice hotel, or going to see an opening day movie. But then again, holidays have never really been a big deal period.  Latkes for channukah with me, my sister, my mother, and when he was alive, my father.  When I had my bat mitzvah, my uncle, aunt and two of my three cousins attended from Israel, as well as my grandfather and aunt from Florida. My sister’s bat mitvah was the same deal, although a different two cousins.  Right now, my entire family in the world is ten people; my grandfather in FL, my aunt and her partner in Fl, my uncle, aunt and three cousins in Israel, and my mother and sister in CO.  That’s it.

So coming home with Q was…interesting…to say the least. On her father’s side alone, there are 12 or 13 cousins.  Three aunts, three uncles. Grandparents. Great aunts. Grandmother in laws (what?). Dogs. Birds. Etc. We flew in and went straight to her dad’s side’s Christmas Eve dinner. There were at least 25 people at this dinner. Overwhelming to say the least…at to that they are an incredibly enmeshed Italian family on Long Island, and yeah.  A bit crazy.

Christmas day was on her mother’s side.  It was just us two, her sister, her mother, and her two aunts. Plus a visit to Nana after. Much more manageable, but still hard.  Q and two of her cousins are the only three people FROM EITHER SIDE who do not live in New York, or New Jersey. The only ones. Everyone knows everyone’s business (her great aunt on her dad’s side told me she “knew” who I was, because she’d seen me on Q’s facebook!), everyone is giving guilt trips, and mentioning events and people for which I’m completely out of the loop, and poor Q feels overwhelmed, and guilty for not coming home more often, and I feel just…so out of place. People I’ve never met are kissing me on the cheek, I’m making up back stories for what my degree is in, and we’re playing the “do they REALLY understand what it means that we’re partners” game.  Oh yes, add to all this the fact I’m a strict vegetarian (as in no chicken broth in my mashed potatoes, none the less eating little shrimps), and they had less than 24 hours of notice that I was coming.

I’m typing this on the plane on the way home (I actually was supposed to fly out Saturday night. It’s now Monday afternoon).  Everyone has been offering me Zanax (xanax?) all weekend. For anxiety, for family issues, for the high pain problems I’ve been having. Perhaps I should have taken them up on the offer. I am so glad I came – her family IS very nice (some of them actually gave me presents!) and I am in love with her Nana. What a wonderful woman.  It was good to meet all of her family, and I have a better understanding of some of her quirks now.

But I couldn’t do this on any regular basis. I’m exhausted. Q broke down in tears this morning (very rare) because she felt like she was disappointing them by not being home more often, and because she was having Catholic (oh yes, I forgot to mention that part) guilt thrown at her by all sides. I’m so glad they didn’t hate me, or so I think…but I can’t imagine doing this all the time. Q’s sister  lives 20 minutes from everyone, and I see the poor thing being pulled in so many directions, trying to please everyone. It breaks my heart.

I look forward to seeing them again in March, and Christmas next year.  But for once in my life, I’m glad to have a small family that doesn’t put a ton of importance on the holidays.  I’ve been able to get through life so far without popping Xanax and I attribute my distance from and the small size of my family for this.

Give me a day or two, and I’m sure I’ll bounce right back. Let me just say that I have a new level of respect for people in huge families, especially when they live close by.

-Essin’ Em

I’m not sure if anyone watches Rachael Maddow (if you don’t, you should, and not just because she is incredibly witty and ridiculously hot). However, if you haven’t you should check out her site.

Last week, she had a couple of shows that talked about the anti-gay bill in Uganda, and Richard Cohen’s “gay fixing” program that inspired this whole thing.

This post isn’t about that.  However, his book/CD set title “Coming Out Straight” made me think.

I hate that coming out is specific only to what is currently minority populations.  One comes out as queer, as kinky, as non-monogamous. It’s very rare to come out as straight, as monogamous, as vanilla (unless your community is queer/non-monogamous/kinky, in which you ARE then the minority).

Why do we have this default of “you should only come out/express your sexuality if you’re not the norm?”  I mean, really, what’s wrong either with no one having come out, or having everyone come out? Why is it so specific?

I mean yes, I understand why people in the minority choose to come out.  Living your life as it is, instead of hiding things, is freeing.  As is strength in numbers. But what if we could just love who we wanted to love, and fuck who we wanted to fuck, and commit to who we wanted to commit to without having to fly our flag?

At Sex 2.0 last year, Sarah Dopp said something about not all people (I think specifically queers, but also talking about kinksters, etc) want to wave their flag high, and they shouldn’t be made to out themselves, or even stand up and be counted. Not everyone is for a cause — some people just wanted to be who they are and not have to fight the battle everyday.

Conversely, what if we started a bigger dialogue about sexuality, so that everyone was talking about their journeys, regardless of the type of sex they like to have, or who they’re attracted to. What if instead of the default of straight/monogamous/vanilla, we actually encourage people (kids, teens and adults) to think about their sexuality, and share it with their friends, partners, families (birth and chosen). 

I know I speak of a much more utopian society, and that many of my questions on this are rhetorical. If we live in a society where we continue to be unequal (as of late, think of New York and New Jersey), how can we ever expect to be anything other than the “other” (in contrast to the default/norm)? What is it about our society, our culture, about humanity that we have to box things in, segregate things out, make the normal and the other?

Just thoughts. I know there is no answer to any of these questions. But I would like to hear a dialogue about coming out as a non-minority. Have any of you done it? Told your friends/family/partners/co-workers that you’re hetero? Or that you’re monogamous? How was it taken? How did it feel?

-Essin’ Em

Dear Channukah Faeries - 

I have been a VERY VERY good girl (and naughty too, but only in good ways) this year, and so I think I should really really win something from the FetLife Sit on Santa’s Lap Giveaway. Particularly the Njoy Eleven, but I would be happy with anything. Promise.

That is all,

-Good lil Essin’ Em

(you can enter too if you have a FL account: Click Here!)