Please watch this video. Again, it’s a year old, so many people are missing, but if you cannot take nine minutes out of your life to remember those who we have lost due to violence against the transgender community, what does that say? After you watch it, please think for a moment, or two, or ten, what YOU can do to create change in your community, in our community. How can we make it stop? This is completely unacceptable and heartbreaking. No one should have to be scare to leave their home due to their gender, and they should certainly not be scared of being killed. This is flat out wrong, and regardless of your politics, or religion, or moral views, is is NEVER ok to hurt and/or murder someone because of who they are. Ever.

If we don’t stand up and create this change, no one will. Stand up for people who are being harmed and whose voices are being heard. Create change, NOW. And always, always remember those we have lost.

-Essin’ Em

My coming out story isn’t just one day, or a week or even year. In fact, my coming out story isn’t finished. It is happening every day of every week of every year.

In college, I discovered the concept of orientation being fluid, and realized that I liked some of the women on campus. I joined QSA and EQUAL, and began to identify as bisexual. I told my mother and sister, and they reacted as expected; they didn’t really care.

Then in graduate school, I decided that I didn’t really like men anymore; I became a proud, flag-flying lesbian. I’m actually not kidding about the flag. I was a lesbian, and I liked women, and was attracted to women, and I came out to my friends and family and work and then…suddenly, I hit a speed bump.

Why? Well, I was suddenly dating someone that didn’t identify as a woman. I was dating a gender queer identified person. She didn’t care what pronouns people used to refer to him. When we were out and about, sometimes people saw us and identified us as a lesbian or dyke couple…other times, I could swear that people thought I was a twenty-something woman robbing the cradle with a 15-year old guy.

I loved this person. And this person didn’t identify as a woman. So I did what most young people in the middle of an identity crisis would do; I went online. And as I searched blogs and forums, I came across the term “Pansexual.” Ok, I thought. I can be pansexual, and be attracted to many people across the sexual spectrum. I was now a card carrying (I’m joking about the card) pansexual woman. Great. I started coming out to people as such on a regular basis.

In the midst of all this, I discovered something else about myself. Despite my angry feminist moments in college where I distained all things feminine as a creation of our misogynist culture and the patriarchy, I realized that while I didn’t embrace all or even most feminine things, my gender identity was developing, and it happened to have a Femme bent to it. One person I was seeing told me one day that I was “such a Femme.” I froze. I had always thought that being feminine or even a Femme was a bad thing, capitulating to social norms. But here I was, having spent almost an hour getting ready, getting a tingle in my stomach as my date opened the door for me, and a smile on my face as they brought me a drink. I had embraced the power of femininity, and I realized that even though I rarely wore heels and was allergic to pink, I am a Femme. Femme is my gender.

So here I was, a Pansexual Femme, and trying to come out to people. Trying to explain how Femme differed from female or woman was hard enough, but when I got into the term pansexual, people shut down. It was too academic, too different, too much. As I continued to prowl around online, I found that pansexual was a privileged term; it was mostly people in academia using it (and often just open minded bisexual people). I didn’t identify as bisexual, and I didn’t want a term that wasn’t accessible to everyone.

That is when I discovered the term QUEER. I was at a house party I’d been invited to by a fellow fierce Femme from roller derby, and I started talking to people about identity. At this party were people of all different gender presentations, from high femme to stud, gender queer and andro to trans folks of various presentations. And let me tell you, almost everyone at this party was smoking hot. I was trying to figure out how one would identify if you were a fierce Femme (IE, me) who was attracted to pretty much everyone in the room, and then, magically, I heard the term QUEER. It fit. It was perfect. It was me. It was an identity that fit me regardless of what I was wearing, who I was attracted to, what my own gender identity was, and everything else.

Now, as Queer Femme, I had to re-come out to everyone I’d already come out to. My family was open to it, but needed some education on the term queer. My co-workers were already reading Judith Butler and Kate Bornstein, so they got it. Some of my friends asked me what took me so long to figure that out, while others still thought of the term queer as a hateful term, and that involved much discussion.

When I moved to Arizona, the coming out process started all over again. Explaining my gender as Femme is always a hoot; people assume that unless you’re trans or gender queer, your gender is just a given. Mine is not. Femme is an attitude, a belief system, a presentation, and it is my deliberate gender. And here in Arizona, very few people understand my queer identity, and so it’s been an opportunity for education. My coming out story never ends, because I have to come out to everyone I meet, and everyone I’ve met, and because my identities are so fluid, sometimes I have to come out to myself.

The other day, my partner’s softball coach referred to me as her “roommate.” I was hurt and angry and frustrated. I’d come out to him already; as queer, as her partner, as her fiancé, and yet here he was, invalidating our relationship. So we both came out to him again. And will do so again if needed.

THIS is why coming out is so important. It creates visibility, and dialogue, and understanding, and these three things create change in our community. It is only with change that we can be seen as full members of our society, instead of second class citizens. So please, keep on coming out.

Happy Coming Out Day!

-Essin’ Em

We’re now allowed to show our pictures from the Sex Blogger Calendar 2011, and I love love love this picture. Thanks to Marty Carstens for taking this fabulous photo of me and Valerie (Vivianne the Vulva’s smaller cousin), to all of those people and companies who worked to put it on, and all of the other hot and sexy models who came together to raise money for sexual freedom!

Calendars are now available online — click here to buy your own! With Nina Hartley on the cover, and Jiz Lee in January (I’m in June), it’ll be a great way to celebrate the new year, and they make great, social justice oriented presents for the holiday season. Just saying…

-Essin’ Em

This is not my most eloquent video. I have no script. I mess up a few times. But it’s from my heart. It’s part of both the It Gets Better push, as well as the Make It Better Project (LGBTQ youth empowerment). We need to stop the bullying as well as stop the suicides, depression and all of the effects of such a horrible climate.

-Essin’ Em

Other resources:
Scarleteen
Trevor Project

However, I think that it is also important to create change in the schools now, rather than just put a band aid on it until they grow up. BOTH are important messages. There is another organization now called the Make It Better Project, which is using social media, videos, the web and more to empower youth to create change in their own communities right now.

Please check it out and pass it on to any you feel might find it relevant.

-Essin’ Em

But that’s not the only way I’m celebrating sexual freedom day…

I’m going to write about it. Because I am lucky enough to have the freedom to write/blog/share about my sexuality, about my own journey, about sexuality education and more.

Why is sexual freedom important? Because you probably don’t have as much of it as you think you do. Many states still have laws on the books outlawing sodomy — which is usually defined as anal sex, but sometimes includes oral sex. Yes, that’s right. Depending on where you live, it may be illegal to suck your partners cock, go down on your lover, or even do it in the butt.  Granted, these laws are not enforced usually, mostly due to Lawrence vs. Texas…however, they are still on the book.

What about if you live with your partner, but choose not to get married. You may have just as committed relationship as a married couple, but you are denied the same rights. And what if not getting married isn’t a choice? Yeah. No recourse.

How about kink? Do you know in some states, I can’t teach kink classes, because flagellating (usually flogging, but can be definine as spanking, whipping, etc) someone for money…even if it I’m making it as a class fee, and am flogging a demo bottom, is considered illegal? I’m sorry, but this is ridiculous.

Not to mention sex workers. Who is a sex worker? Phone sex operators, porn stars, escorts, pro dommes, sex surrogates and more. Some of their activities are legal, some of them aren’t. However, most sex workers I know file taxes, volunteer in their communities, and are upstanding citizens…yet are treated differently by the rest of society because somehow the work that they do (that oh so many people enjoy) is not “real work” or is unacceptable.

Sexual freedom is not being scared of being fired if someone finds out you’re kinky. It’s having equal rights, regardless of gender/orientation. It’s passing a law that makes it illegal to fire someone for being LGBTQ or having a non-traditional gender identity/presentation. It’s taking stupid anti-sex laws off the books. It’s creating a climate where people can come out from their pen names and handles, and talk about sex in a positive light. Sexual freedom is not policing people for their identities, jobs, or actions.

We are a long way away from this sexual freedom utopia, but every step you take, every time you speak up, speak out…we’re creating change.

So tell me, what does sexual freedom mean to you, and how are you trying to achieve it?

Thanks to The Woodhull Foundation for putting together this Sexual Freedom Blog Carnival. Check out the Woodhull Foundation and their work towards increased sexual freedom.

-Essin’ Em

Today I’m writing to a stranger. But I’m going to take a similar route of the witty Britni of BritIsShameless.com, and make this a delurking post, or better yet, a post where I can get to know you, my readers.

Who are you? Some of you I know in real life, others through your comments, your blogs, your twitter pages, etc. Some of you I don’t even know that you are there at all.

So tell me, those you who are reading me:

*What name do you go by on the interwebs?

*What are some of your identities?

*How did you find me, and when?

*Why are you reading this blog?

*Where(ish) are you located?

*What is your number one bit of sex advice you give to people?

*How do you tell people you love them?

*Favorite animal.

Would you be so kind, oh strangers of various levels, to post here, today, and tell me who you are a little, what makes you tick, how you found me, how you love, your tips on sex, why you read this, and of course, your favorite animal? I’d appreciate it ever so much!

And with that…I have hope to get to “meet” some of you soon!

-Essin’ Em

Mother -

We have what many would see as a tumultuous relationship. There really are three parts of you that I get. There is the awesome part, that sends me news articles about gay marriage in other countries, that makes fun of John McCain, that sends Q and I fans for our cars out of the blue.

Then there is the side that has hurt me so much emotionally over the years; the side that convinced me that my family would never approve of/support me in what I do, that my relationships would never be welcome, that I would be ground in HS if I got a B. This is the side that plays BLATANT favoritism with my sister, to the point that people have pointed it out and asked me what I did to piss you off. This is the side that has caused countless tears, nights without sleep, thoughts of becoming a runaway, of emancipating myself in college, of disowning the family. You’ve gotten better in the past bit, but it’s still hard not to think of the acts you did that made me hate myself and regret living. Telling someone they tried to kill themselves because they wanted attention, or because they had a vegetarian diet? That’s just low.

And now, as you grow older into your 60s, there is the side that worries me. This is the part of you that tells me the same thing three times in one phone conversation, that has you confusing me with my sister, that has you tripping in the backyard, falling and hurting your knees. You live alone in a 3-story house, and I know you can’t even get down to the basement to deal with the cat litter (there is vomit and shit all over the floor). I keep trying to encourage you to sell and down size, offering to help you go through the stuff, and to move, but you reject it. I’ve offered to get my handy man friend to come over and put up towel racks that have fallen down for years, or lights that have been out for months. I get no response. It’s very hard to take care of someone who is slowly falling apart when they won’t accept your help. And it’s very hard to offer you help when I’ve been in dire situations, and gotten none from you.

I don’t hate you. I used to think I did, but I’ve realized that I don’t. However, it’s also incredibly hard to love you. I feel like I love you because I have to, not because there has been a growth of love between us. I hope this changes in the next few years, I do. I don’t want to feel this way. I can see that you’re trying; offering to pay for the cupcakes in our wedding is a HUGE step, especially since you don’t support the fact that we’re getting wedded. I appreciate that, and I give you my word that I will try to. Just know that this is all going to take time, and I don’t quite know how much of that we have, given the average life length in our family. But I will try.

I love you, in my own way,

-Essin’ Em

I got a message back telling me that I was not “ready” for this group, as clearly I needed “Trans 101.” Why? Because I was sick of men messaging me with cock pictures asking if I wanted to play, so I directed all “bio/cis men” to my pro-domme site, telling them I didn’t have sex outside of my relationship with Q (and porn), and that if they wanted me to beat them up, I’d be happy to oblige. For money.

I purposely used the term bio in this context because most of the people messaging me on FetLife that fell into the cock-picture/play with me group would not understand the term cis or cisgender. I reached out to them where they were at. Apparently, this means I need Trans 101.

Their other complaint? I didn’t write enough about femme being my gender on my profile for it to be true. Clearly, I was just making that up. Because it’s not like I don’t write enough here and on the Femme’s Guide about Femme being a gender, and an identity, and so much more than just the feminine side of the spectrum. I ALSO needed to put it on a social network profile page for it to be true (please note, I don’t write about it on Facebook either. Why? Because I’d rather write about why I’m there, promote my blogs, and then have people come read my thoughts on gender in a blog format, rather than a note on Facebook or FetLife).

What I don’t think this person realized as they spat out hateful words towards me was exactly how much they’d hurt. I don’t identify as trans, no. I also don’t think anyone (trans or otherwise) can master gender. Why? Gender is ever constant, ever evolving. Anyone who said they know everything there is about gender is a liar, because by the time they say that, something else will have changed as people create and develop their own identities.

But for them to tell me I needed Trans 101?  Ouch. I like to think I have a fairly good grasp on trans and gender queer ettiquite, having had trans partners (and currently engaged to a person who identifies as gender queer), and having many friends of ALL different identities. I have personally chatted with Kate Bornstein as I drove her around Phoenix. I have shot for Point of Contact making sure people of all genders (including someone who identifies as a T-girl) were represented. I start the majority of my classes/workshops talking about how not everyone with a vagina is a woman, and not every woman has a vagina, etc. In smaller workshops, I ask everyone their pronoun preference before they begin. I’m teaching a workshop for TRANSform Arizona this fall on Safer Sex for Transfolk and Their Lovers (named as such by the trans organizers of this conference). I was always pointing out the difference between sex and gender, and the need to not make assumptions throughout my grad school program. I read gender theory on a regular basis. I try to change cisgender centric policies wherever I go, including aruging with local coffee shops and restaurants about creating gender neutral bathrooms.

I try to be as much of an ally as I can to ALL members of the queer community – this includes speaking out against biph0bia, validating those who are lesbian or gay identified (rather than queer identified), using my visible feminitity to educate those who might not listen to someone who presents differently, working to change policies/laws/rules to be more gender friendly, etc. For someone to tell me I need to take “Trans 101″ cut me pretty deep.

Should it matter? No. I have plenty of friends of all genders and orientations, and they were quick to tell me when this happened how much they appreciated me. However, after all my work in trying to support the T part of the queer community, and to educate myself and others, and to just be there to listen, it fucking hurts to have someone say that to me. I’m a member of the queer community too, and have just gotten a slap in the face. I, as a Femme, am apparently not queer enough to belong, unless I rub my Femme gender in everyone’s face (rather than just on here and the Femme’s guide).

And to that, I say fuck you. How dare you police my identity? How dare you tell me I’m not good enough? How dare you create a hierarchy of oppression within our minority community? You are doing us all a disservice. 

-Essin’ Em

Photo by Michael Barone

Happy 4th of July. Happy “Independence Day.”

Enjoy your BBQs, your cold beers.

Remember for a moment all of our friends and family serving our country, fighting to uphold wars that should never have happened, and to help create independence for those who do not yet have it.

Remember for a moment those in this country who are not independent, whose freedom and rights are not equal.

Those who can not marry. Those who cannot adopt. Those who cannot visit their loved ones in the hospital. Those who do not have insurance. Those who live in tent cities. Those who don’t know when their next meal is.

I am not saying don’t celebrate. I’m not saying to not be patriotic.

But please think. Think about what you ARE celebrating. Think about our country’s bloody history. Think about who and what we’re fighting for, and what we aren’t fighting for.

Be careful. Please choose not to drink and drive (or drink and boat). If you’re lighting fireworks, don’t blow yourself up (and if you live in a place where they’re illegal, please don’t light them and cause fires, kthnxby).

Celebrate.

But also pause and think about what this celebration means.

Happy Fourth of July!

-Essin’ Em

As a side note, every thing at Fascinations and FunLove.com is 25% off today; toys, lubes, books, DVDs, massage oils, condoms, etc.  Just saying…

Fascinations 4th of July Sale