AfroerotiK

Erotic provocateur, racially-influenced humanist, relentless champion for the oppressed, and facilitator for social change, Scottie Lowe is the brain child, creative genius and the blood, sweat, and tears behind AfroerotiK. Intended to be part academic, part educational, and part sensual, she, yes SHE gave birth to the website to provide people of African descent a place to escape the narrow-mined, stereotypical, limiting and oft-times degrading beliefs that abound about our sexuality. No, not all Black men are driven by lust by white flesh or to create babies and walk away. No, not all Black women are promiscuous welfare queens. And as hard as it may be to believe, no, not all gay Black men are feminine, down low, or HIV positive. Scottie is putting everything on the table to discuss, debate, and dismantle stereotypes in a healthy exchange of ideas. She hopes to provide a more holistic, informed, and enlightened discussion of Black sexuality and dreams of helping couples be more open, honest, and adventurous in their relationships.

Showing posts with label Black pride. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Black pride. Show all posts

Tuesday, July 28, 2015

Dark and Lovely





You have ravished my heart with just one glance from your soulful eyes.  I present myself at your feet as your servant and your protector.  I kneel before you, a humbled man and submit my will to you.  I immerse myself in your gracious demeanor and aura and I wish to serve your needs, wishes and your most intimate desires.  

How shall I please you today?  Shall I start at your toes and bathe them tenderly, kissing, licking and sucking them for your pleasure?  It would be my decided honor to experience you in such a way.  I can assure you that no man will ever lavish such tender, loving, care to your nipples as I will.  I will tenderly and gently suck those hardened points of pleasure.  I will hold your breasts to my lips with the reverence of a cherished goblet from which I’ve been blessed to drink.  I will massage your back and rub scented oils down your spine, relaxing your muscles and your mind.  I crave hearing your gentle moans of pleasure as I move my hands down your legs and gently caress them.  

I offer my mouth to you as a tool of your pleasure, so that I may drink from you, taste you.  Let me taste you and all that you are as I lower my mouth to your pussy and bestow gentle kisses on you with my lips.  I want you to surrender to pleasure from my mouth as I softly coax you to orgasm. 

I Have Seen the Promisedland



I am feeling really accomplished in my life today, really proud of myself.  I started calling myself a writer back in 2003.  I knew I had talent and I knew I had something to say about race, sex, sexuality, and relationships but I was scared to call myself a writer because all I had ever known was you had to get a job and work for someone else until you were retired and half dead.  Saying I was a writer was sort of like the people who wait tables who call themselves actors.  I knew I wanted people to hear what I had to say about race and racism and the psychological diseases Black people inherited from slavery and I knew I could get them to listen with the words that flew from my fingertips on a keyboard.  I knew there was power in using erotica to get people to hear my messages.  I just didn’t feel comfortable in my own skin calling myself a writer.  My family certainly didn’t support me.  They still don’t.  The only message of encouragement I get are from people who have read my words over this strange thing called the Internet and they have responded to my call.  For that, I am immensely proud. 

When I started this journey, when I created AfroerotiK, there were NO photographic images of Black couples that weren't pornographic or artistic nudes.  The two extremes that existed were either gross and crass or contrived and not arousing.  I was the very first person to create true erotic images of Black couples, stimulating images that showed emotion and depth, that showed passion and intimacy, not just body parts, not weird poses that no one could ever replicate.  Today there are photographers who have made their careers from creating erotic images of Black couples.  I single-handedly opened that door.  For that, I feel tremendously accomplished and gratified. 

When I first started preaching from my soapbox about how detrimental it is to emulate the slave master with this pathological need to have straight hair, to put toxic chemicals on our scalps, next to our brains, to sew some Filipino woman's or some poor, naked yak's hair on your head, wasn’t no one trying to hear that.  When I started out, I was adamant about being PROUD and feeling beautiful with our own natural, nappy, wooly, African hair, there were no other public figures as unapologetic as I was saying anything similar. There was no such thing as the big chop.  There were no websites for women to go to to get support to transition from slave hair to natural hair.  There wasn't even such a thing as YouTube when I started preaching, let along videos teaching women different techniques to wear their natural hair.  There was me, from my yahoo group, Black Planet, and MySpace, screaming from my computer that it was way past time that Black women started loving our own natural hair, the way God intended it to be.  I got hatred.  I got personal attacks.  Today, there is a community of Black women embracing their natural hair.  There aren't enough today but at least I'm not the only person speaking out about it, who refuse to back down because they know that it's detrimental to Black women to find their beauty in the standards of our oppressors. 

Ten years ago, when I was relentless with my critique of Black men's emotional maturity, when I was using my knowledge of consciousness to attack patriarchy and sexism and misogyny, and I was really attacking the demons that created a nation of Black men who trapped in unhealthy behaviors and who refused to budge, my voice was the only voice.  I got death threats from Black men.  I got attacked and called everything but a child of God.  Today, this very day, I got a message from a young man. 

“. . . . I'm different now after reading that and I’m making serious changes in my life.  I've chosen to practice abstinence from sexual activity for a while. I’m incorporating yoga and meditation into my routine so that I can purge my mind of the views I had of women. The objectification and lack of intimacy was like a soul-eating cancer that must be starved and cut out and replaced with that which is whole and pure. I'd rather be in solitude then continue to see through those poisoned lenses.  I read in one of your posts that said we have to do better and scouring the Internet for meaningless sex was one of the things I was guilty of. So I instituted a hands-off policy. Off myself and anyone else if it's not whole and good and mutual and with a spiritual foundation.” 

Ten years ago, there weren’t more than a handful of Black men who could have made those choices, let alone articulated them so well.  Today, I not only get very few attacks on me from Black men, on my womanhood, I see more and more introspective Black men, I see more and more Black men working on themselves, trying to be better, trying to heal their emotional wounds.  I see them trying to address the things that I’ve been preaching about for more than a decade.  It’s not a lot but the fact that I can see some small change, I can feel a tiny shift in consciousness occurring.  I’m certainly not the only voice that has been calling for the necessity for Black men to take ownership of their behaviors but I’ve been one of the few soldiers on the front lines, dodging the bullets, getting hit by the shrapnel[SL1] .  I’ve never backed down.  I’ve never surrendered.  I can’t think of anyone else off the top of my head who has used their public platform to address Black men’s emotional immaturity but I’m sure there are others.  But the message I got this morning from that beautiful, young, Black King is validation enough that I’m doing what I’m supposed to be doing.  A new mother showing of her beautiful newborn couldn’t be more proud than I am right now. 

I started writing interracial erotica because white people were reading my stories and they were learning that Black people were more complex than the ghetto, stereotypical images that they saw everywhere.  I was teaching white people what Afrocentric meant, that there were Blacks, groups and communities of Blacks, who spoke in ways they had never heard, that our “superiority” was not just in our oversized genitals or excellence at sports and entertainment.  Today, I have a huge following of white supporters who have a vastly different take on race because of my unapologetic stance, my unwillingness to back down, my fervent mission to rid them of the fallacy of white supremacy that has been in place and unquestioned for centuries.  I’m clearly not the only person who has been addressing racism.  There are lots of other voices out here, some louder than my own.  But, I know that I have been able to shift the perceptions of a significant portion of white people with my work.  I know that the handful of people that I have been able to reach now question their beliefs and have had to re-evaluate their biases based on the words that I have written.  That makes me feel incredibly proud. 

In my own personal life, I’m surrounded by dysfunction.  The stench of it has permeated my very soul.  I let it consume me at times, but today, I am not.  Today, I’m rejoicing in the fact that I have been instrumental in shifting the collective consciousness of people of African descent.  Today, I’m celebrating the fact that I have created a paradigmatic shift that is only going to grow and continue to spread.  I’ve known my mission for a very long time.  I was put on this earth to create social change, to educate and enlighten, to lift the collective consciousness of Africans born in AmeriKKKA, and to break the chains of mental slavery.  I’ve done that.  I’m not finished.  I have lots more work to do.  There are new battles to be waged.  The newest demon is the plague of young women who think that degrading yourself is empowering.  The next monster in line are the young people who think that being respectable is a bad thing.  I will slay those beasts with my words.  I will not give up the fight.  The war has not been won but today, I know that I have won some significant battles.  I may not have the wealth, success, and fame of many of my “peers” but I have a clear conscious in knowing that I have ONLY promoted, celebrated, and championed what is true, righteous, and healthy in our evolution as a people.  I have never sold out.  I’ve never compromised or lowered my standards or my integrity.   

So, going forward, I still have work to do.  I know now that the outcome is assured.  What I must do is what I have done. Write. I can write about what I know about and that's how the collective consciousness of Africans born in America was formed. (I don't write about Africans on the continent even though I have a tremendous and loving following there). I can write about the dysfunctional and detrimental beliefs we have inherited from white people. I can give models of what it means to be emotionally mature, vulnerable, and to be AfroerotiK. To be AfroerotiK is to be secure in your sexuality, to rid yourself of unhealthy views, to redefine everything that we've been brainwashed to believe is true. What other races do is not my concern. My only concern is to lift the consciousness of MY people. 

And for that, today, I am very proud of myself.