Sexuality Happens

Now that Valentine’s Day has come and gone, and that I’m back in the scheme of things (which includes planning for our wedding/celebration of love this October), I have to say that I’m sick and tired of the Love Industry.

What, pray tell, is the Love Industry? It is the capitalism in our society has found that by making people (particularly women, but people in general) feel back about not being in a relationship, not being in a “serious enough” relationship, not having the “perfect wedding” etc, that they will then rush out to spend tons and tons of money on ridiculous things. The worse you make people feel about their relationships (or lack thereof) with others, the more money they will spend.

Look at Valentine’s Day — people spend so much time and energy trying to make sure they have a partner on Valentine’s Day, and then once/if they do, they spend all this money trying to impress their partner and “show their love” by buying outrageous gifts that may or may not even suit their partners tastes. Clearly, every woman in existence wants a diamond necklace, right? I sure as heck don’t.  And then, when people say things like “I don’t think Valentine’s Day is important — I think love should happen year round,” they’re then told that they are just being jealous, petty, wishing they had a partner (or a partner that did better things for them, bought more expensive things, etc) and so on.  And of course, I work in the industry that hops onto this bandwagon — Valentine’s Day is one of our biggest seasons (but at least a vibrator lasts a lot longer than a bouquet of flowers, and can be used together).

This year, I picked up some pre-made food from Whole Foods and we ate it, cause I wasn’t in the mood to cook. Then we watched TV we’d missed, and worked on our duo-presentation for the National Collegiate Leadership Conference. Oh, and drove to the post office to drop off our application for a residence in Denver. Why? Because it was a Monday, and that is what needed to happen that Monday. My best friend and her husband went to Qudoba for dinner, and he wound up buying her a 6-pack of blueberry beer. It had nothing to do with money — they just decided that THAT was what they wanted to do. And that is how it should be.

Don’t even get me started on the wedding industry. Other than the fact that they are totally not queer inclusive (which they need to work on, given all the states passing same-sex marriage and civil unions), but honestly, this industry is vile at times. I keep getting sent wedding magazines, bride magazines, nesting magazines, where the “budget” dresses are one thousand to three thousand bucks. A “budget wedding” apparently comes in between twenty and thirty thousand. a BUDGET WEDDING means keeping it under a grand in my mind. We’re capping ours at $5000, and that includes outfits, locations, food, flowers, DJ, cupcakes, pumpkins for decorating, etc. We’re doing a cheap wedding of sorts, the way we like it (whether or not a burgundy ball dress is traditional, whether or not a DJ with a Rainbow Mohawk is appropriate, etc). But clearly, so many people buy into this fantasy that they are selling, this concept that with out an expensive white dress and prince to sweep you away, that we are nothing. Why? What is it that says this is “right” thing, other than the companies trying to sell it to us in the first place?

I like Amanda Palmer quite often. I’m still out on how I feel about her Evelyn Evelyn project, which deals with a faux discovered set of coinjoined twins (hence my issue with the project). However, usually, I think she’s pretty rad.

Recently, I discovered this video by AFP (Amanda Fucking Palmer) which is about pubic hair (watch out, it’s very catchy):

Now, the video is awesome, I love the fabulous merkins (vulva wigs), the beat is rocking…but I have some issues with the message. I totally 100% believe that we need to do away with the myths that a shaved vulva is sexier, that natural hair is gross, that shaving/waxing/etc is a cleaner option, and so on. Obviously, these are all bullshit, and just one more way to control women and their bodies.

HOWEVER, I’ve talked about this before and I’ll talk about it again. It is NOT sex positive or feminist in anyway to tell people that what they CHOOSE to do to their body is wrong, or as this song puts it “whack.” Vagina Monologues (which has its other issues as well) has a piece called Hair, in which it says “You cannot love the Vagina unless you love hair.” First of all, this is anatomically incorrect, as the vulva is where there is hair, not the vagina…and secondly, it tells those people that like the feel of having less/styled/different/no public hair that they clearly don’t love their vulva/vaginas or those of a partner.

I have done almost everything that there is to do with pubic hair (except dying it). I have cut it, styled it, shaved it, waxed it (never again — way too fucking expensive), etc. It is certainly NOT for any male gaze. And I identify as a sex positive woman and with parts of the femininist movement. Does this mean that I don’t love my vulva? That I’m wack? NO. I like the sensations of toys and tongues both with and without hair, and enjoy the differences that hair does and doesn’t provide. Some months I grow it out, other months I chop it off. My public hair and how I style it does not define me as a person, or whether or not a love female assigned genitala. The end.

I don’t know what the answer is. How do we reclaim the sexiness of having hair as an option without stepping on shavers/waxers/etc? It’s the same as how can we run the fat positive movement without saying horrible things about skinny people? (some people are naturally a size two, and yet often times the FP movement talks about them as if they are bulimic or anorexic when they are not, or calls them skinny bitches, etc). To be truly sex positive, or the type of feminist I identify as involves elevating global thinking WITHOUT HURTING others. When we step on people, say hurtful things, call them names, etc, solely in order to futher our own thoughts about things, we set all of us back.

So yes, I will probably continue to sing this song under my breathe, and I will DEFINITELY be using Map of Tasmania in the future. But Amanda Fucking Palmer, Eve Ensler, and the rest of you? Please stop judging people for choices that they make. Pubic hair is NOT gross…but not having it doesn’t make you a bad person, a failure as a woman, or even whack.

-Essin’ Em

Today, November 20th, is National (and International) Transgender Day of Remembrance. In the last few years (and this video is from last year, so there are more names and faces to be sadly added), over 100 people have been murdered for their gender identity/presentation. This doesn’t even take into account the hundreds and possibly THOUSANDS of people who are assaulted based on their gender, and tens of thousands more who are harassed each and every day.

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

I am currently in Vegas for the Society for the Scientific Study of Sexuality annual conference.

It’s always so interesting to me when I come to these things how “different” I am. I mean, there are very few people here with tattoos, most are sex therapists, marriage/family therapists, or college professors (now, I’d LOVE to teach at a college, but I’m not there yet). Very few people here teach direct to adults or college students outside of a classroom setting. Very few people teach directly about pleasure and how to improve sexual skills. Very people people know much about kink play and/or how to talk about it.

Now, this is not to say that other forms of sex education aren’t important. The more types of sex ed and ways to reach people about learning about sexuality, the better. However, at these events, the reactions I get when people find out what I do makes me feel more alienated” and that I’m not “enough,” not a “real sex educator. I don’t know how Charlie Glickman does it.

Add to that the technology aspect. I was told my live tweeting of the presentations (and my reactions to said presentations) made people uncomfortable, that people thought I was breaking the confidentiality (don’t share participants names/identify info) agreement. Why people assumed I was doing that (versus no one else in the room), I have no idea. I’ve tweeted at Sex 2.0 2009, Sex 2.0 2010, AASECT 2010, all with no issues. But here, it makes me even more an outsider, someone who doesn’t fit in the community. I ended up feeling incredibly attacked the way that it was framed, and wound up spending the latter half of the last day in tears, missing the last plenary as I tried to collect myself.

What makes someone a good sex educator? What makes someone a “real” sex educator? What makes someone a sex professional? And who is anyone to make that distinction.

I love my work. I love changing people’s lives. I love watching people’s eyes light up during my classes, seeing break-throughs during my sex coaching, and getting emails of thanks, or those seeking advice. I will not apologize for the type of work I do, or the fact that I use technology to reach out to even more people. However, maybe this is a sign that I don’t belong in these associations or societies, if I am made to feel less than simply because of the technology provided to me that I choose to use, or because of the type of education I choose to provide.

I am a sex educator, almost every moment of every day. However, here in Sin City, as I sit outside trying to collect myself, I feel small. I feel like an outcast. I feel like a black sheep. It’s grad school all over again. And I don’t know if it is healthy for me to continue to place myself in such situations.

-Essin’ Em

I got an email, assumably from someone’s agent (I’m not quite sure), promoting an article about labiaplasty. For those of you who don’t know, this is plastic surgery on the labia. To make them look like some fictional, non-existant norm.

Let me reiterate what I say in every god damn class I teach. Vulvas are like snowflakes; each is unique, and beautiful just the way it is. I hold up Vivianne, my vulva puppet, and explain that sometimes the outer lips are biggers, but sometimes the inner lips are bigger. Sometimes the lips (either set, or even both) can be uneven.

There is NO reason, aside from a painful accident, to EVER, EVER EVER. Get labia plasty. Period. You are beautiful just the way YOU are(or your partner/friend/lover is beautiful just the way THEY are). Some of these surgeries require epic amounts of money, time, recovery, sometimes being put under…and sometimes, (often) the clients are still not happy with their vulvas.

Well, it turns out this article is PRO-Labiaplasty. Someone, somewhere, put me on a press list for fucking PRO genital mutilation articles…because that’s what non-emergency labiaplasty is. Genital mutiliation. The end. So I wrote back, asking if they had send me this because how atrocious and ridiculous this article was, supporting women cutting up their genitals to have some sort of “perfect” or “ideal” vulva that just doesn’t even exist.

Her answer?

This article was sent with the belief that women are allowed to do what they want with their vaginas and that there are far more atrocious things that can be done to them than labiaplasty.  That said, we find the article and subject matter interesting, and wanted to pass it along.

Thanks,
Amanda Z***********

Globalpost

THERE ARE FAR MORE ATROCIOUS THINGS THAT CAN BE DONE TO THEM OTHER THAN LABIAPLASTY. Um. What? I mean, if you’re going to count sexual assault, then yet. It doesn’t happen specifically to a vulva though — it happens to the whole person. I can honestly not think of anything worse happening to a vulva specifically than having it cut up. For not reason other than some non-existant ideal. Possibly losing most/all sensation in said lips.

I’m sorry, but while I support everyone’s right to make personal choices, I do not support our society telling vulva owners that they aren’t good enough, and so need to cut up their area of pleasure to appeal to some made up, bull shit standard.

The article itself, in the Global Post, did have one redeeming paragraph (out of two freaking pages talking about porn stars vulvas (NOT vaginas, btw) being the models for women who come in wanting vulva surgery because they want to look “perfect.’  The paragraph?

Virginia Braun, a senior lecturer in psychology at the University of Auckland, has also railed against the trend.

“We came to believe that, despite claims that they are about empowering women and improving women’s sexual pleasure, these surgeries were being recommended out of a misogynist disregard for women’s genital diversity and a willingness to exploit women’s lack of knowledge and confidence about their genitals,” she wrote in a study called “The ‘Designer Vagina’ and the pathologisation of female genital diversity: Interventions for change,” published in Radical Psychology earlier this year.

Otherwise, fuck this. Anyone who tells me that their are many worse things that can happen to ANYTHING is making excuses and creating a hierarchy of oppression.

Well, she sure did give me something to write about, although I’m sure it’s not the way she expected.

Love every vulva. Irregardless. The end.

-Essin’ Em

I did this last year, and think it’s worth re-doing…

-Essin’ Em

I got this idea from the brilliant site Feministing.com. Of course, now that I’m going back to try and find some of their examples of things they could do without, I can’t for the life of me find their posts. Bah, humbug.

Regardless, here is my snarky list o’ the week of things I can do without. They actually aren’t really in any particular order, just as I’ve thought of them.

10. The assumption that the average woman should be a 36-24-26, size 2, 36DD, blonde, etc, what have you. People are beautiful in so many different ways, different sizes, different colors. The average size in America is a 12-14. AVERAGE. Not a 2. 2 is a fine size. So it is 22. Let’s stop being so fucking ridiculous in our expectations and searches for perfection. People of ALL sizes, from 0 on up to 32+ are all beautiful people. The end.

9. The Tea Party movement, and I don’t mean Alice in Wonderland. Some of those people are really scary…like, they make George Bush look like a bedtime story.

8. Straight men who think that they can turn queer women straight. Straight women who thing they can turn queer men straight. Queer women who think they can turn straight women queer. Queer men who think they can turn straight men queer. Monogamous people who think that everyone should be the same. Non-monogamous people who think everyone should be the same. It’s just rude. Kinky people who want to kinkify non-kinky people. In every direction. Why are we so eager to change other people’s identities?

7. Hypocrites. Nuf’ said. They piss me off. A lot.

6. Those who do not recognize their privilege. I understand that you cannot change certain things (race, gender, age, ability, etc), and that you may not *want* to change certain things (class, appearance, etc). However, that does not excuse not recognizing that you HAVE that privilege. Do with it what you will, but at least own it.

5. Laundry. I really hate having to do it. And it takes forever, and I never have enough quarters, and our washer is broken, so I have to carry them to the laundry room, up stairs, and it’s just horrible. If I never had to do it again, I’d be estatic.

4. People who feel like they own the road/bad drivers. You *have* a turn signal. Please use it. Let people in occasionally, especially in heavy traffic, or when their lane is ending. Wave a little instead of flipping people off. Don’t go freaking 20 over, drive the wrong way down one ways, back up the street, drive over medians, etc. Really, it’s easy. Just don’t be a douchehat. Simple as that.

3. Violence as a solution. Violence NEVER has a reason to be the solution. Talk. Go punch a wall. Go have sex. Go eat a pint of ice cream. When I say violence, I mean everything from domestic violence to wars, road rage to genocide. It solves nothing. Period.

2. Spiders. Really. Ugh. I KNOW they eat mosquitos, so I can possibly amend this to “spiders that are inside” or “spiders that are where I are, and/or exist in my personal sphere of life.” But they are terrifying AND dangerous. Especially in Arizona, where we have TARANTULAS.

1. How society drives us to feel better by putting people down. We judge others on their bodies, what they where, what car they drive, where they shop, where they go to school, etc. This tears us apart. We call each other sluts, whores, fat, etc (in non-positive ways). How does taking other people down build us up? And why do we let society control us this way? I do not approve.

What are ten things YOU could do without?

I’m sure that you have all heard about the recent rash of tragedies regarding anti-LGBTQ bullying, and the teens that felt the only way out was to take their own lives.

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

Sometimes, expectations can be a very very good thing. However, for the most part, they tend to be evil.

Why? Because usually, we keep our expectations to ourselves. We don’t share them. And by doing so, we often set ourselves up for disappointment, because we expect (there is that evil word again) our friends/family/lovers/partners to read our minds, and meet our expectations, even though they often don’t know what they are.

I wrote a few weeks back about how I was let down during my last trip to the ER. It was the first time Q had ever come with me to the ER, and only the second time she’d ever come with me on any medical visit, the first being only a week prior. Now, I’ve spent a lot of time in medical settings, and have been in the ER far too many times. Ergo, when there was no nurse button, and I was left alone in a room with no pillows/sheets/etc for a swollen leg/to prop up my head, and with no nurse call button, or way to ask for help, I sent Q on a mission to a) find a nurse, b) check on where I was in the triage schedule and c) get me a pillow. The first three trips, she came back having accomplished none of this. The nurses were talking to each other, or she didn’t see anyone in the hall. I was incredibly frustrated, because I needed an advocate at that point in time (not being able to walk anywhere myself), and I had very specific expectations of what an advocate to me looked like. However, I pretty much gave her my expectations at the exact same time as I even asked her to be an advocate, and in a stressful setting none the less. Is it not wonder that her actions didn’t meet my hastily requested invitations?

So I’ve been trying to be clearer about my wants and needs, and even expectations. And moreover, I’ve been trying to have less expectations. When I came back from Florida, Q had gone to Sedona with her sister, and brought me back this BEAUTIFUL black and white flower vase. Totally unexpected, as I don’t ever expect physical presents from Q (I’m a pack rat, she’s a minimalist). I dropped my expectations, and was pleasantly surprised. What a reward!

But then, I made expectations again. I purposely chose to fly back from SF to Phoenix this afternoon, so I could spend a nice evening with her before flying back out to NYC tomorrow. Between my travel and her often 60+ hour work weeks, we haven’t really gotten to see much of each other in a while, and so this was important to me. I forwarded her my flight info, my travel dates, reminded her that this was when I’d be home, etc.

By doing all of this, I had expectations that I’d be able to spend time with her this one evening that I was back. However, I didn’t communicate that clearly. I thought she’d pick up on my hints, but I never specifically said “hey, so we’re both getting to hang out together on the night of the 29th, right?” Well, not until the day before I left.

I had hoped she would take the afternoon off, so I could get a ride from the airport home, and get to spend time with her. Apparently, she had two presentations that afternoon, so that was nixed. Fine, that had been a hope, but not an expectation. Then Saturday night, as I chatted with her on the phone, I found out she also had stuff at 5pm-7:30pm, and 8pm-11pm. As my flight was leaving at 7am the next morning, I wasn’t going to be able to stay up past 10ish, meaning that all my deliberate planning and extra wear and tear on my body was for naught; I’m not really going to get to see her before I leave again.

I was hurt when I found this out. Not angry, just hurt and frustrated. But honestly, that’s partially my fault. I needed to communicate better my reasoning for coming home, as well as the expectations I had of Q instead of just making assumptions.

And I guess it will just make next Monday night all the more sweet.

-Essin’ Em

This is day 12 in my “30 Days of Letters” endeavor. This one is supposed to be to someone I hate, or caused a lot of pain in my life. Now, Julius caused a lot of pain, but I don’t hate him. KW caused pain, but I don’t hate her. Lots of people in my life have caused I lot of pain, but I absolutely cannot think of anyone I personally know that I hate. Ergo, I’ll write to Fred Phelps and his like.

Dear Fred Phelps and your gang of hateful ruffians -

Love is a word with many meanings and levels. I can love my cats. I can love my family. I can love my partner. I can love my friends. I can love myself. I can love chocolate and my favorite sex toys. Love is so vast and varying, depending on who you talk to, and what/whom they are talking about.

Hate is different. I don’t see levels of hate. Hate is a black covering that just overwhelms and shuts down people. You, sir, are full of all consuming, soul sucking hate, and I hate that your hate creates hate in me.

I don’t hate individuals. I may dislike them distain them, just stay away from them, but I do not hate. However, your hate, your blackness, your darkness, covers all those in your path. Just by having been around your hate, by protecting people from your protests, by seeing how truly awful and evil you really are, your hate has rubbed off on me.

I hate you.

I hate you, Fred Phelps, the person. I hate your church. I hate what you stand for. I hate how you make people feel wrong, feel uncomfortable, feel unsafe, feel scared, feel angry, feel hurt, feel attacked, feel frustrated. No one has the right to purposely do that to other humans. I hate that you do this, that you clearly enjoy doing this, that you help convince others to do this, that you train small children to do this.

You have succeeded. You have planted the seed of hatred in me. However, instead of grown against the people you don’t like, it has turned against you. I hate you, although I’m not consumed with it. Why? You are not worth that waste of time, of energy, of what it would take to truly hate you.

I hate you like a fly in my soup, like the guy in the pick up who flipped me off today when I honked for swerving. I don’t really care enough about your measly life to be filled with it. I just hate that I have been driven to hate at all.

I hate you,

-Essin’ Em

Funny story. Today is Sexual Freedom Day, and tonight, I’m going to be teaching people about communication with their partners and cunnilingus. I think teaching people how to have better sex definitely falls under sexual freedom.

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