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

Click here to see more of Dylan Ryan taking pain and pleasure on DeviceBondage.com.

Luckily, at Thunder was a friend who happened to be a nurse. I bought some vet wrap for a non-kinky purpose; I used it for compression. When I got “home” to Phoenix, we had a quick bit to eat, and then headed to a local ER. The one my friend recommended was more than 35 minutes away, so we chose one in a hoity-toity area near us, assuming that because the area was rick, they’d be able to hired decent staff.

Boy, was I wrong.  Not only did they not have anyone on staff to help me with a wheel chair, but once I waited the few requisite hours to make it to triage, the nurse there not only had no idea what synvisc (my injections) were, but couldn’t seem to figure out how to put my sulfa drug allergy in my chart. Sulfa drug allergies are incredibly common, yet she had no clue, and finally gave up, just writing it on my allergy bracelet. It got worse from there. 

We were put in a room with no pillows (forget my neck — I wanted to elevate my leg), no ice pack, and no way to press a button or get ahold of a nurse. Once the nurse finally came in, he rattled off a list of things it could be, and possible solutions. Not so with the doctor — he gave me more percocet (despite the fact that I told him I already was ON narcotics to handle the pain), and said that if I didn’t have a blood clot (which I didn’t), then it wasn’t an emergency, and it didn’t matter. No offer to drain my knee, or deal with the fact my foot was as large as my calf.  In fact, when I pointed out I thought my allergic reaction to the red in my tattoo might be infected, he told me “no, that’s just the ink spreading out.” I had circles of reddish-purple irritation ONLY around the red leaves, yet his brilliant answer was that the ink was spreading out. Right.

Finally, after the ultra sounds (negative for blood clots), and waiting for another 3 hours with no nurse checking on me (no one ever asked me my pain level — every ER I’ve been to has always asked CONSTANTLY where I’d am with pain), and Q having to ask not once, not twice, but three times just to get a pillow for my knee, I was sent home. I asked the doctor if he’d be willing to drain my knee, or put some sort of anti inflammatory in it, but he looked me in the eye and told me it wouldn’t help. He told me doctor’s don’t like to touch other doctor’s patients. I pointed out my doctor wasn’t in state, so he told me to find a surgeon here, but I’d have a hard time.  I explained back to him what he just said, and asked him to drain my knee, PLEASE. I reminded him that it took forever to get into an ortho as a new patient. He told me later on that he talked to an ortho in the ER, and he had promised to get me in his office in the next few days, and that he was “obligated” by the referral to see me.

I found out the next day when I called that he was under absolutely no obligation to see me, at any point, and that his next “new patient” appointment was more than two weeks away, and that ER doctors (at this ER) lie to their patients about this all the time.

I caused a stink. I explained that this wasn’t just random knee pain, but that I couldn’t even bend my knee enough to sit down on the toilet, that I couldn’t function at all. I called my ortho in Denver; mooses bless him. He was in surgery, but his PA called me back right away, and he texted her from outside the OR with his suggestions (draining/aspirating the knee, and injecting it with cortisone to alliviate the swelling). The PA had the ortho tech call SynVisc to see if this was a common reaction, and they called me back to let me know it was unusual (especially in one knee) but not unheard of. And finally, I snuck in on Tuesday to the Ortho in AZ.

What did he do? He looked at it for about 15 seconds, told me the only thing for immediate relief was to drain it right away, and inject it with cortisone. Surprise. When he drained it, he literally drained almost a full cup of fluid from it.  You know those cups you have to pee in? Full of fluid of grossness from my knee.

Suddenly, I could actually bend my knee. It still hurt, and I still needed the cane, but I could actually put a slight amount of pressure on it without it giving out on me. 

I was so angry at that ER doctor. And then I found out that I knew someone who’d gone to the same ER; he had a blood clot, and they sent him home because it was a “small one.” Two days later, he had an embolism in his lungs. So I guess that not having a cup of fluid drained from my leg isn’t that big of a deal, because it couldn’t have killed me.

But this whole experience made me question how Q viewed me, whether she’d given up, whether she’d finally realized how difficult it was going to be living and dealing with someone like me.  But that’s a whole new post.

-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 Hero HNT

Happy Half Nekkid Thursday to everyone!

Here is a picture right before my scene at Thunder with my Moose Evey, where I went as SUPER QUEER. I duct taped Evey to the table, and tease and beat her with the G-pop (it’s designed for G-spot play, but is also great for boobs/ass beating, and clit teasing). My cape really made the outfit, but without the rocking eye make up (me) and the superb glitter (Evey), it just wouldn’t have come together properly.

Plus, I love my actual eyes in this picture. Not just the make up, not just the sparkles, but the eyes themselves. I love love love it!

HNT to all of you all!

-Essin’ Em

Arizona has my job, which I love. I love Fascinations, and my co-workers are awesome. I like our condo that we’re renting. We have made a few friends out here that we really enjoy. I am trying my hardest to find things to do and people to spend time with here, but it’s so hard to go somewhere that just *feels* 100% like I’m home…and then leave.

When I’m in Denver, I have less migraines. I feel less stress, less anxiety. When I start feeling anxious, I just spend some time looking at the beautiful Rocky Mountains, and I can literally feel my body and mind relax. It’s this amazing feeling that I’ve never been able to replicate (although I got close when I lived in Germany). It’s so calming, just to lean up against a tree full of green, starting at the mountains, take in a deep breath, and just live and enjoy it.

When we were there, people from all different communities we’ve been a part of told us how much they wanted us back. Kinksters, queers, friends, former co-workers, former cohorts, musicians, family, you name it; everyone we met (even our favorite waitress at one of our favorite restaurants) told us how much they would like us to come home, home meaning Colorado. It’s so heartening knowing how much we are missed, how much people want us back. Hell, even my orthopedic surgeon told me how much he missed seeing me on a regular basis.

On the contrary, when we were gone, no one from Arizona told us we were missed. No one took the time to fetlife, or facebook, or just text and say “hey, I know you’re in CO, but we’re looking forward to having you back.” We have one set of friends that helped me to find an emergency room when I got back, but that was it. There is no sense of love, caring, friendship or community here. We still feel predominantly like interlopers, annoying people into tolerating us.

Within a year or two, we hope to make it back to Colorado.  Q can’t leave her job just quite yet, as she’s making huge strides in the LGBTQ community, rights, conversation, etc on that campus.  My work has agreed when I moved to transfer me, which is great, since I love it. It’s just so hard to have to wait. To visit, and have that feeling of community, have that feeling of love from others, of the calmness of nature…and then to have to leave it.

Colorado, my heart still belongs to you,

-Essin’ Em

-Essin’ Em

*Ties (especially gender queer/butch people wearing them)

*Q, especially when dressed up, and properly mohawked

*Eyeglasses

*Lighting

*Massages

*Thunder

*Dark Chocolate

*Ice Cream

*People passionate for social justice

*Corsets/Cinchers

*Gender queer-ness/Gender fuckery

*Other people packing

*The Hitachi Magic Wand

*Duct Tape on my Moose

*Kisses on my neck

*Knives

*Vampire Gloves

*The smell of books (especially old books)

*Black nitrile gloves

*Vaginal Fisting

*Queer Porn

*Introspective Tattoos

*Train rides

*Hotel beds

*Hot tubs

*Pools

*Being submerged

*Snow/rain/fog

*Fire

*Lilac/magnolias/lily of the valley/gladiolas scents

*Leopard print

*Certain music

*Pedicures (this is new, as of last week)

*Having my head pet

*Cuddling

*Grasshoppers (the drink)

*Breasts

Friday, I got a new version of SynVisc (synthetic viscosupplementation) injected in my knees. It didn’t really work 2 years ago, but was worth a try since it was covered. The difference? Two years ago, it was 2ccs per knee, one time a week, for three weeks. Now it was 6ccs per knee, all at once.

As usually the numbing needle and draining needle hurt worse than the insertion needle. Q, who hates doctors, was a trooper and held my hand. I have been using a cane since then, and taking it easy; not walking much, not lifting ANYTHING, etc.

Yet somehow, while my right knee is stiff, yet ok, my left knee is now completely unbendable, bigger than a cantelope (literally- I will take pics) and can support no weight at all. Spending my last day at Thunder looking for a kinky nurse/doctor/EMT. Flying this afternoon will be interesting.

-Essin’ Em

So sometimes, things supposed to “help” my knees just make them worse. And then what do you do?

-Essin’ Em

I love Cocksexual, because you have such a diversity of hot models, from Miss Calico to Dylan Ryan to Sadie Lune (and Kimberlee Cline, and Billy Castro, and Jiz Lee, and Bella Vendetta, and Syd Blakovich) and many many more all strapped on and wearing and using cocks. Each scene (whether solo or with partners) has both photos and video.

I like the first two pictures, because I think sets with just one person rocking their cock can be extremely hot, and of course Dylan Ryan and Calico (two fierce femmes) have got that well practiced. Then Sadie Lune getting a hot cock blow job from Gloria? Mmmm. Do queer blow jobs get much more delicious than that?

Enjoy the pictures, and see more picture and video by click here and joining Cocksexual!

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