When I was a child, I thought as a child, when I became a woman . . . the theory is supposed to be that my thoughts and perceptions shifted to that of an adult. I’m convinced that one’s orientation doesn’t shift, one’s primary programming doesn’t evolve, one just becomes older and more adept at justifying and validating the belief systems passed down to him or her generationally.
In an effort to define my sensual evolution, I’ve taken some serious time to assess where I was and where I am now and where I want to go in terms of my sexuality. I’m reluctant to use the term evolution because I’m not convinced that my shift in sexual desires has moved to a higher plane. Perhaps it has just shifted around like a box of tissues in the back window of a car on a bumpy ride.
When I was a developing teen with raging hormones and no one to help me navigate my sexual feelings other than my other pubescent friends, my sexuality was defined by my mother’s collection of pornography in her closet. I was thrilled with words more than pictures and obviously, given my career choice, a fact has carried over into my adult life. I learned about sexuality from overtly misogynist and sexist material that objectified women. Thusly, my sexual desires reflected that fact. I wanted to be seen as desirable and subsequently my fantasies were in relation to that. My earliest fantasies were of doing the things that would make men want me, to see me as the most beautiful, to be the most pleasing to men. I worked hard to perfect my skills at giving head; I would construct intricate and complex scenarios to seduce my boyfriends, all my fantasies revolved around giving pleasure to men. Rarely, if ever, did I fantasize about men giving me pleasure. Two rapes, a failed marriage, a decade of being single, and the conscious effort to become more comfortable with my sexuality have caused my fantasies to shift. I no longer have a desire to be seen as beautiful or desirable to men, in fact, my desires are just the opposite. I want to be seen as a human being and a woman and the person inside the package.
For many years now, I’ve been asexual. I’ve put up a wall around my sexuality intended to keep people out. For me, the concept of planning a seduction and performing outrageous feats of sexuality to please a man are totally foreign to me. My sexual fantasies now mostly revolve around me being seduced and pleasured. In my 43 years of life, I’ve only been seduced once. I’ve had plenty of men want to give me pleasure but that really had nothing to do with pleasing me as a human being, it had more to do with conquering me as some sort of trophy or possession. I do fantasize of once again planning intricate and detailed seductions for my mate but the concept of finding a mate that appreciates all of me are the details I can’t seem to fill in in my imagination.
I used to fantasize about being with women; it’s been years since I’ve had those sorts of thoughts. I used to fantasize about sucking dick; now I chant “Eat me” in my fantasies. In fact, for the first decade of my sexual life, I never asked a man to perform oral sex on me because I thought that was an indication of being selfish. I would REFUSE to sit on a man’s face, even if he insisted that I do it. In my mind, it was indicative of something exclusively for me I couldn’t relax enough to enjoy it. (I still don’t like doing it but that’s mostly because men tend to suck too hard on my clit when I’m on top and I like it SOFT) I still fake orgasms, almost pathologically, because I can’t let go of my conditioning that says that I have to make the man happy. Today, a large percentage of my fantasies unashamedly revolve around reciprocal anal play. Five years ago, the concept of two men together sexually triggered what I call the “knee-jerk talk show reaction.” That’s the standard, “That’s disgusting,” indignation that 99% of people have in the audiences of Jerry and Maury when the concept of male bisexuality is discussed that is blatantly absent when the issue is two women together. I realize now that my beliefs were part of conservative, Protestant-ethic, brainwashing that has no basis in really dissecting the causes, issues, and genesis of same sex couplings. Today, I find myself aroused by the concept of two men together and I also am aroused by the act of intimacy that a man extends to me in sharing his bisexual desires. Rarely do I fantasize about being penetrated and when I do, my fantasies are romantic more than sexual. In recent years, I was aroused by dominating men. Now, I no longer have a need to be sexually dominant I just accept that as a part of my sexuality. I don’t have a need to assert power over men, or to psychologically manipulate them, I simply long to be treated as a queen.
My ideal sexual fantasy at this stage in my life is to have a mate, lover, partner, boyfriend/husband that is committed to pampering me each night. I dream of a man that draws my bath every evening and pampers my body with oils and lotions and shea butter. Completely relaxed, he then takes painstaking efforts to bring me to orgasm based on the things that arouse me specifically, i.e. licking my asshole, fingering my magic spot, sucking my nipples gently, and eating me SOFTLY. Then and only then, when I’m completely satisfied, do I fantasize that I’m so wickedly pleasured that I have to have him inside me and we make love in a passionate and intense erotic experience. Upon awaking, he’s there behind me, to give me the morning wood that I love so much. I do fantasize that I take great efforts to keep him aroused and plan intricate seductions but it’s difficult to get a good picture of how I do that for the simple fact that I can’t see a man in my life.
I’ve tried to map out a roadmap of where I want to go in my sexual life from here but a lot of that is dependent upon finding a mate. Right now, I tend to think that I’m going to be primarily celibate for the rest of my life and that I’ll supplement my sex life with meaningless episodes once a year or so. That saddens me more than one can imagine but I’m extremely pessimistic about finding a mate. I would like to see myself evolving sensually with my mate, practicing tantric techniques and growing in love and communication. Where I go, how my fantasies will evolve is yet to be seen but I will be sure to monitor my motivations and desires in an effort to track my sensual evolution.
Have you assessed your sensual evolution? Have you asked yourself what things went into making up your sexual personality and how have you grown or changed? How are your desires different now than in years past and are they more healthy or have you just continued on without thinking about your sexual motivations? Share your thoughts and opinions.
Showing posts with label growth. Show all posts
Showing posts with label growth. Show all posts
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Saturday, July 11, 2009
Untreated Wounds
Haunted Past and Untreated Wounds
There’s a man. He has a terrible secret. His shame and pain haunt him. His secret eats at his very soul; it has shaped his consciousness and the way he views life and he’s formed his identity around his unhealed wounds. When he was a young man, someone stole his innocence. He was sexually violated. He has hidden his secret and he’s denied it. He’s tried to suppress his memories and he’s even convinced himself after all these years that it didn’t happen. He says to himself, “I should have fought harder, it couldn’t have happened. In fact, it didn’t happen at all.” However, the pain is still deep inside. The thoughts plague him and everyone one of his relationships has been affected. He lashes out, he tries to hurt people, he keeps himself closed off, he lies. He refuses to address his past and he can’t figure out why his life isn’t happy, why he can’t seem to cope like other people can.
There’s a woman. She suffered so much abuse, so much daily terror, she internalized it as natural. Her sexuality is wrapped up in feeling like an object, in feeling used and abused. She’s never known her body to be hers, since she was a toddler. She’s never experienced autonomy nor pleasure unless it was at the hands of others molesting her body and raping her of her dignity and self-respect. She is so numb inside she doesn’t even know what pain feels like. Pain and abuse have become her pleasure. She can’t even perceive of a healthy relationship and is drawn to relationships that reflect her painful life as validation that everyone is meant to hurt her. She has no reason to deny her past, however, because it’s all she knows, it’s all she can conceive of so she has no point of reference for anything else. She gets outraged and lashes out at individuals who try to suggest to her that she needs to deal with the pain and the abuse. To her, everyone else is fucked up for not seeing things through her lens of hate, pain, and abuse.
She’s different that the other woman that was sexually assaulted as a child. This young lady only had it happen once or twice. She doesn’t think about it, she only has vague memories that come once in a while. She tells herself it was no big deal because it wasn’t like it was a stranger, it was someone she knew, maybe even someone she was attracted to. Every man that she’s had to fight off, that wouldn’t take no for an answer she justified it by saying it was her fault for sending out the wrong signals. Her relationships with men have been cyclical; she tries to form healthy relationships but she ends up with men that only want her for sex or who don’t take the time to really get to know her as a person. Her identity is wrapped up in being attractive to men; she needs to feel beautiful to feel whole. Tired of having men use her for sex, she decides that she’s going to beat them at their own game. She decides that she’s going to be the sexual aggressor, that she’s going to get hers and fuck anybody else, literally and figuratively, that stands in between her and her pleasure. She tries desperately to use men, but only ends up used again because her feelings get in the way.
Is there any wonder we can’t heal our relationships? We have been violated, abused, used, raped, and we never discuss it. We don’t heal from the sexual devastation that has shaped our personalities. We can’t heal unless we talk about it, and sometimes, that’s not even enough. Our subconscious mind, the mind that exists beyond our waking thoughts, is so used to the pain, that it’s made adjustments in our personalities where the pain becomes normal. The deep, oozing, weeping, puss-filled emotional sores from our sexual past haunt us and the cycle can’t end. The violated are going on to violate, the abused are become abusers, of themselves and the people in their spheres. What, short of a miracle, will heal these haunted pasts and untreated wounds?
There’s a man. He has a terrible secret. His shame and pain haunt him. His secret eats at his very soul; it has shaped his consciousness and the way he views life and he’s formed his identity around his unhealed wounds. When he was a young man, someone stole his innocence. He was sexually violated. He has hidden his secret and he’s denied it. He’s tried to suppress his memories and he’s even convinced himself after all these years that it didn’t happen. He says to himself, “I should have fought harder, it couldn’t have happened. In fact, it didn’t happen at all.” However, the pain is still deep inside. The thoughts plague him and everyone one of his relationships has been affected. He lashes out, he tries to hurt people, he keeps himself closed off, he lies. He refuses to address his past and he can’t figure out why his life isn’t happy, why he can’t seem to cope like other people can.
There’s a woman. She suffered so much abuse, so much daily terror, she internalized it as natural. Her sexuality is wrapped up in feeling like an object, in feeling used and abused. She’s never known her body to be hers, since she was a toddler. She’s never experienced autonomy nor pleasure unless it was at the hands of others molesting her body and raping her of her dignity and self-respect. She is so numb inside she doesn’t even know what pain feels like. Pain and abuse have become her pleasure. She can’t even perceive of a healthy relationship and is drawn to relationships that reflect her painful life as validation that everyone is meant to hurt her. She has no reason to deny her past, however, because it’s all she knows, it’s all she can conceive of so she has no point of reference for anything else. She gets outraged and lashes out at individuals who try to suggest to her that she needs to deal with the pain and the abuse. To her, everyone else is fucked up for not seeing things through her lens of hate, pain, and abuse.
She’s different that the other woman that was sexually assaulted as a child. This young lady only had it happen once or twice. She doesn’t think about it, she only has vague memories that come once in a while. She tells herself it was no big deal because it wasn’t like it was a stranger, it was someone she knew, maybe even someone she was attracted to. Every man that she’s had to fight off, that wouldn’t take no for an answer she justified it by saying it was her fault for sending out the wrong signals. Her relationships with men have been cyclical; she tries to form healthy relationships but she ends up with men that only want her for sex or who don’t take the time to really get to know her as a person. Her identity is wrapped up in being attractive to men; she needs to feel beautiful to feel whole. Tired of having men use her for sex, she decides that she’s going to beat them at their own game. She decides that she’s going to be the sexual aggressor, that she’s going to get hers and fuck anybody else, literally and figuratively, that stands in between her and her pleasure. She tries desperately to use men, but only ends up used again because her feelings get in the way.
Is there any wonder we can’t heal our relationships? We have been violated, abused, used, raped, and we never discuss it. We don’t heal from the sexual devastation that has shaped our personalities. We can’t heal unless we talk about it, and sometimes, that’s not even enough. Our subconscious mind, the mind that exists beyond our waking thoughts, is so used to the pain, that it’s made adjustments in our personalities where the pain becomes normal. The deep, oozing, weeping, puss-filled emotional sores from our sexual past haunt us and the cycle can’t end. The violated are going on to violate, the abused are become abusers, of themselves and the people in their spheres. What, short of a miracle, will heal these haunted pasts and untreated wounds?
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
Slave Hair
I remember when I had slave hair. I call it slave hair because not only is it the hair that slaves where told was more beautiful than their own, natural, nappy hair, but I was also enslaved to it. I couldn't go outside when it was raining, I couldn't go swimming, I couldn't have sex with a man right after I got it done, I couldn't scratch my scalp right before I was going to get my six week reapplication of deadly chemicals, I had to live my life around making sure my naps didn't show.
I had all the arguments against relaxed hair PERFECTED. I would argue with any woman who suggested that my straight hair was anything other than a mere styling option. I convinced myself that I was right and that any woman that even suggested that relaxed hair was some sort of Eurocentric standard of beauty was insane.
I was the same as all the women who rationalize their self-hatred, who condemn me, and who defend their slave hair.
Then, I evolved. I grew. I got strong. I put aside the memories of my grandmother telling me that nappy hair was ugly. I rejected the comments, jokes, and taunts of little boys telling me that my natural hair wasn't pretty like white girls. At the time, I was becoming more spiritually aware, I stopped eating meat, I was becoming healthier all around. I was still holding on to my slave hair. I was terrified that if I let go of my slave hair, that I'd be ugly. I was horrified that if I let go of my slave hair, that I'd never get a job, I'd never get a man, that the world would look at me as something less than human and certainly not beautiful. Then one day, I woke up and I realized that history is prologue. I accepted that my natural, nappy hair was my birthright, that I could be beautiful with the hair that God intended me to have, without chemicals, without the messages that every little Black girl gets beaten into them that tells her to be ashamed of her natural hair. It was only then that I became liberated from my slave hair. It was only then that I became free.
I had all the arguments against relaxed hair PERFECTED. I would argue with any woman who suggested that my straight hair was anything other than a mere styling option. I convinced myself that I was right and that any woman that even suggested that relaxed hair was some sort of Eurocentric standard of beauty was insane.
I was the same as all the women who rationalize their self-hatred, who condemn me, and who defend their slave hair.
Then, I evolved. I grew. I got strong. I put aside the memories of my grandmother telling me that nappy hair was ugly. I rejected the comments, jokes, and taunts of little boys telling me that my natural hair wasn't pretty like white girls. At the time, I was becoming more spiritually aware, I stopped eating meat, I was becoming healthier all around. I was still holding on to my slave hair. I was terrified that if I let go of my slave hair, that I'd be ugly. I was horrified that if I let go of my slave hair, that I'd never get a job, I'd never get a man, that the world would look at me as something less than human and certainly not beautiful. Then one day, I woke up and I realized that history is prologue. I accepted that my natural, nappy hair was my birthright, that I could be beautiful with the hair that God intended me to have, without chemicals, without the messages that every little Black girl gets beaten into them that tells her to be ashamed of her natural hair. It was only then that I became liberated from my slave hair. It was only then that I became free.
Monday, May 04, 2009
Introspective Questions
The Internet has dumbed people down. Society in general fosters emotionally immature behavior. Here is your opportunity to really think about your life, your loves, your passions and reflect on your feelings. The challenge is not to give the briefest answers, you don't even have to answer them all at one time, but look at this as an opportunity to really grow.
Brought to you by AfroerotiK
1. What was the most damaging event in your life that gave you a negative self-image?
2. What patterns from your parents have shown up in your adult relationships?
3. What is one personality flaw you wish you could completely erase from your life?
4. I feel very insecure when . . .
5. I feel profound joy when . . .
6. My mission in life is . . .
7. My most memorable love-making experience was . . .
8. How have your belief systems, practices and behaviors evolved from your parents?
9. What’s the most important thing you want your children to know about you after you’re dead?
10. What talent or ability do you possess that makes you different from your peers?
11. How are you different from the person you were 20 years ago?
12. Define what intimacy means to you.
13. What movie had the most impact on how you see the world?
14. You have the opportunity to go back in time and apologize to someone you hurt. What would you say?
15. If your ideal, dream life is a 10, how would you rate your life TODAY in comparison?
16. What song or recording artist moves you emotionally?
17. If you could make love to one person, one time only, who would it be?
18. What did you do wrong in your most significant relationship?
19. Do you regret giving your virginity to the person you did?
20. Describe yourself in 5 words.
Brought to you by AfroerotiK
1. What was the most damaging event in your life that gave you a negative self-image?
2. What patterns from your parents have shown up in your adult relationships?
3. What is one personality flaw you wish you could completely erase from your life?
4. I feel very insecure when . . .
5. I feel profound joy when . . .
6. My mission in life is . . .
7. My most memorable love-making experience was . . .
8. How have your belief systems, practices and behaviors evolved from your parents?
9. What’s the most important thing you want your children to know about you after you’re dead?
10. What talent or ability do you possess that makes you different from your peers?
11. How are you different from the person you were 20 years ago?
12. Define what intimacy means to you.
13. What movie had the most impact on how you see the world?
14. You have the opportunity to go back in time and apologize to someone you hurt. What would you say?
15. If your ideal, dream life is a 10, how would you rate your life TODAY in comparison?
16. What song or recording artist moves you emotionally?
17. If you could make love to one person, one time only, who would it be?
18. What did you do wrong in your most significant relationship?
19. Do you regret giving your virginity to the person you did?
20. Describe yourself in 5 words.
Monday, March 16, 2009
We Must Excel, Not Just Exist
We Must Excel, Not Just Exist
We, as descendants of slaves, as people of color, MUST strive for excellence in all that we do. We must live according to principles of excellence in our daily lives, spiritually, emotionally, physically, and mentally. Living in alignment with excellence means making a conscious choice to do what’s right over what’s easy, what’s comfortable, or what’s familiar. In lieu of spending hours gossiping on the phone or endless hours on the computer in the pursuit of meaningless sex, we must examine our selves, our lives, and look to grow, mature, and evolve.
I challenge you to stop thinking of yourself as better just because you go to church every Sunday, dressed in your overpriced fineries to show off to the congregation, when you step over the homeless on Monday without so much as an ounce of compassion or love in your heart for those who need a helping hand. We must stop trying to get over on the system, trying to figure out the easy way to get something for nothing, and rather make the choice to have integrity, to do what’s right for the community, not just yourself. It’s time now to consider the ramifications and consequences of our actions and stop living for the moment or the almighty dollar. If we consider the feelings of others, if everyone considers the feelings of others, we can transform ourselves from a selfish, insensitive, immature community to a compassionate, giving, enlightened family. Find a reason to see the good in someone, to reach out to another because you connect on a deeper level, not just because you think they have something to offer you, or because you want to feel insecure and petty jealousy.
Speak truth to power. Hold your tongue when you feel the urge, the driving and compulsive need to lie, and utter only those words that are true. Embrace honesty with your entire being and reprogram your brain from your conditioning that tells you to create stories and deceptions that make you feel better about yourself and learn to be honest and truthful with yourself so that you might be able to be honest and truthful with others.
We must accept our greatness, our royalty, and our divinity with humility, grace, and modesty. Would a Queen exchange her body for a car payment or money to get a new pair of shoes? Would a King create a prince or princess only to leave them unprotected and un-nurtured? Would a true manifestation of the Divine be more concerned with a car, clothes, or plasma TV than in helping those less fortunate?
Ask yourself, are you living a life of excellence or do you merely exist? Are you striving to become a better person every day? Are you actually trying to become a better person: not richer, not more attractive, not get more stuff, not sleep with more women, not use more men, not cheat the system, not beat the man. Are you striving to dispel the myths and combat the stereotypes? Are you daily striving to learn more, to push yourself further, to excel in all you do?
Pick up a book, go back to college, take a night class, use the Internet to learn out our history instead of just wasting your life away.
Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK All Rights Reserved
We, as descendants of slaves, as people of color, MUST strive for excellence in all that we do. We must live according to principles of excellence in our daily lives, spiritually, emotionally, physically, and mentally. Living in alignment with excellence means making a conscious choice to do what’s right over what’s easy, what’s comfortable, or what’s familiar. In lieu of spending hours gossiping on the phone or endless hours on the computer in the pursuit of meaningless sex, we must examine our selves, our lives, and look to grow, mature, and evolve.
I challenge you to stop thinking of yourself as better just because you go to church every Sunday, dressed in your overpriced fineries to show off to the congregation, when you step over the homeless on Monday without so much as an ounce of compassion or love in your heart for those who need a helping hand. We must stop trying to get over on the system, trying to figure out the easy way to get something for nothing, and rather make the choice to have integrity, to do what’s right for the community, not just yourself. It’s time now to consider the ramifications and consequences of our actions and stop living for the moment or the almighty dollar. If we consider the feelings of others, if everyone considers the feelings of others, we can transform ourselves from a selfish, insensitive, immature community to a compassionate, giving, enlightened family. Find a reason to see the good in someone, to reach out to another because you connect on a deeper level, not just because you think they have something to offer you, or because you want to feel insecure and petty jealousy.
Speak truth to power. Hold your tongue when you feel the urge, the driving and compulsive need to lie, and utter only those words that are true. Embrace honesty with your entire being and reprogram your brain from your conditioning that tells you to create stories and deceptions that make you feel better about yourself and learn to be honest and truthful with yourself so that you might be able to be honest and truthful with others.
We must accept our greatness, our royalty, and our divinity with humility, grace, and modesty. Would a Queen exchange her body for a car payment or money to get a new pair of shoes? Would a King create a prince or princess only to leave them unprotected and un-nurtured? Would a true manifestation of the Divine be more concerned with a car, clothes, or plasma TV than in helping those less fortunate?
Ask yourself, are you living a life of excellence or do you merely exist? Are you striving to become a better person every day? Are you actually trying to become a better person: not richer, not more attractive, not get more stuff, not sleep with more women, not use more men, not cheat the system, not beat the man. Are you striving to dispel the myths and combat the stereotypes? Are you daily striving to learn more, to push yourself further, to excel in all you do?
Pick up a book, go back to college, take a night class, use the Internet to learn out our history instead of just wasting your life away.
Copyright 2008 AfroerotiK All Rights Reserved
Friday, August 29, 2008
In the Sunshine
My childhood is peppered with memories, both good and bad, that are not unlike many people of color but also so vastly atypical and unique as to be extraordinary by any measure. I was born to a single mother in the sixties when being a single mother was still shameful. I was raised by my grandparents who were civil rights activists and intellectuals who never once subscribed to stereotypes or adhered to the narrowly defined pigeonhole to which Blacks were assigned. They were exceptional in that they adored each other and expressed that love for each other in word and in deed every day. There were never instances of people coming over to play cards or listen to music rather people stopped by when they needed help because they were facing discrimination and racism and needed a place to turn for solace. My middle class grandparents were never concerned with cars, clothes, or expensive belongings but with knowledge and justice. I was challenged to expand my mind, to treat people fairly, and to live with INTEGRITY. When I moved in with my mother, she made great efforts to expose me to the world and a myriad of experiences that would not limit me to those things to which only little Black girls were relegated. I didn't play double dutch or the dozens, I learned sign language and wrote reports on Black history. So while I was born in a tiny town in Maryland with two stop lights, reared on the border of white suburbia and rural isolation, and became a woman on the streets of New York City, I am an amalgamation of various people, places and events that color the canvas that is my life.
My sexuality, for the first 15 years of my sexual adulthood, was shaped by limiting, patriarchal, misogynist dysfunction. My sexuality was shaped largely by reading my mother's vast and extensive collection of pornography. I suspect my mother was more interested in collecting the erotica of the day in order to appear progressive and make men fall in love with her rather than her own sexual liberation. My identity was shaped by trying to distance myself from my dysfunctional mother who dated every married man she could get her hands on in order for her to never have to deal with betrayal and hurt again like she experienced from my biological father. My sexuality was shaped by an overwhelming sensation that I was inherently unlovable because my father never wanted to lay his eyes on me. My sexuality was formed by being a physically and emotionally abused child who thought she had to apologize to the world and who thought she had no right to express displeasure or demand that my boundaries be respected. When I was raped, I never thought to press charges because I had been conditioned to expect a life of pain and disappointment. When I was rejected by men who discarded me like trash, I would beat myself up and try to prove to them that I was worthy, that I was a great lover and partner and anything that they could ask for. While my grandparents showed me this fantastic, unconditional, all-encompassing love, they taught me that my sexuality was dirty and unmentionable. Everything I learned from those early life experiences I had to unlearn as I've grown in consciousness.
I attended an all white elementary school, junior high, and high school. I was ridiculed by the few Black students as not being Black enough because I got all A's and B's. I was an exceptional student who wasn't nurtured and encouraged by white teachers because there were uncomfortable with my Blackness. My Blackness didn't fit in their definition. I was not ghetto but I also wasn't willing to deny my unique history and the history of my ancestors. I attended an undergraduate program in textile technology because, while I wanted desperately to be in the fashion industry, I didn't want to be average or superficial. I wanted to have knowledge that the average person on the street wouldn't dream of knowing. I dedicated myself to mastering subjects like organic chemistry and weft knitting only to graduate and only get recognition and acknowledgement in the work force for my creativity. Nearly a decade later, I decided to pursue a Master's degree in African and African American Studies with a concentration in psychology. I had been growing and evolving personally and I needed a change. I needed to push myself, again, to learn things that the average person walking down the street wouldn't know. I chose to attend an HBCU, to surround myself with what I thought would be progressive, forward thinking Blacks who were equally as committed to dismantling the mindsets learned in slavery that keep up oppressed. I was faced with a reality that my fellow students didn't give a damn about the things I was concerned with and I felt even more isolated than when I was the sole Black student in a classroom of 30. Earning a 4.0, I accomplished that mission and did my very best to understand how African Americans came to think and behave in such detrimental, dysfunctional ways and how to go about healing those pathologies and exactly what a healthy model of behavior for descendents of slaves should look like.
My mission in life is to create social change, to educate and enlighten, to lift the consciousness of Africans born in America, and to break the chains of mental slavery. I use sex as a means to accomplish my mission, specifically, I write Black and interracial erotica in an attempt to discuss the issues that plague us, to dismantle the beliefs that keep us limited, and to paint a new picture of us as healthy individuals. Erotica is not the only tool I use but it certainly is an effective one. My personal sexuality has been influenced by my mission in that, in trying to live my life in a way that is congruent with my mission, I've alienated myself from a great number of men who only want to fuck me because of my big booty or because I have pretty feet or because they just want a piece of ass. I've redefined my sexuality because it can no longer fit into the narrow box that made me think that sex was, at best, recreation, and at the very least, something reminiscent of a porno.
Simply stated, I define erotic as a culmination of sights, sounds, scents, tastes, and sensations that arouse the body. AfroerotiK is intimacy; it is an intimacy that is so deep and abiding that you can be your authentic self with your partner without fear or hesitation. AfroerotiK is spiritual; it's a connection to a larger scheme whereby an individual can understand that their sexuality can't be defined by oppressive, rigid, and puritanical beliefs created by white men to keep people oppressed but that is a divine expression of pleasure and connection. AfroerotiK is displaying pride, dignity, and strength of character by releasing the debilitating and harmful mindsets inherited in slavery/colonialism and embracing a holistic perspective where sex is not about power or money or some tool to dull your senses but about communication, about honoring oneself, about the decadent and hedonistic abandon that can be experienced in the throes of passion.
When I sit down to create a story, I draw upon an ideal vision I see in my head of a future world where gender roles aren't so rigid. I dream a world where people embrace newer, more evolved ways to address sexuality and completely divorce themselves of the behaviors that lead them to lie, cheat, and manipulate in order to have sex. Every time I create a story, I close my eyes and envision a world where couples are more open, expressive, and honest with one another. I'm inspired to expose white people's inherent, core racist beliefs, no matter how much they deny their existence, each and every time I write a tale of interracial lust. My goal is to show Black people, complex and healthy, as role models who just happen to have passionate, intense, uninhibited sex.
My gender preference in a lover has been exclusively male for the past decade. Moreover, my most intense, emotional attraction is to men of color. The qualities I most appreciate and respect in a man are those that are rare in most African American men today, thus making my search for a partner extremely difficult. The trait most essential for me in a partner is introspection. I desire a partner who has been able to examine the events and influences in his life that shaped him, shaped his consciousness, identified those things that were detrimental to his development, and who is constantly working on redefining himself anew. I desire a partner who understands his emotional triggers and is cognizant enough to understand how those things are injurious to forming a healthy relationship and is working on healing those wounds. My ideal partner is a man of integrity, who understands the concept of honesty and embraces it, who practices a spiritual system other than Christianity, Judaism, or Islam. The perfect man for me is also a man who identifies himself as openly bisexual, having rid himself of absurd notions of manhood and who relates to me as a human being and a woman without expecting me to adhere to patriarchal, oppressive roles. To finish off my grocery list of things I desire in a partner, I would add extremely intelligent, creative, and capable of being monogamous.
My sex life has been severely stunted in the past 10 years, so much so that I find it difficult to remember what sex is like, let alone great sex. I vaguely remember having sex, with certain people, at certain times, but my memories are distorted. I don't have a "most memorable orgasm" experience. The experiences that are most memorable for me are the ones where I felt most loved. I don't remember the physical things we did so much as I remember the emotion of the experience. Even then, I'm still fuzzy on the pictures in my head because I'm so divorced from my sexuality now that everything sort of seems a blur. I do remember faking a hell of a lot of orgasm with men to appease their egos, or at least my motivation was to make them feel manly. I remember being used for sex a lot. I think the thing I've learned about my sexuality in the past is that my greatest sex is yet to come, with a partner who loves me, where I can experience completely uninhibited, unbridled, passionate, romantic, sensual, AfroerotiK sex.
There are too many vital, important, pressing issues of sexuality today to just limit it to one. HIV, the virus that causes AIDS, is rampant and deadly and is being spread amidst a cacophony of lies and denial. Rape, molestation, and sexual abuse are happening behind every door and leaving a trail of damaged, broken people in its wake. The objectification of women is sooooo pervasive, so accepted that it's hard to even address the issue because people have accepted the hypersexualization of women as being normal and expected. Sex in exchange for money distorts, warps, and damages the delicate equilibrium of intimacy that sex should be about and makes it about power and control. Everything about sexuality is fucked up. There isn't one thing that is more important than another; all the issues are interconnected and seriously in need of fixing.
Right now in my life I'm trying to become comfortable with the fact that I just may never find love. I'm trying to become comfortable with the fact that the rest of my life just might be lived with a series of short term relationships that are meant to teach me about life and nothing more significant than that. It's been brought to my attention recently that I send mixed messages to the individuals to whom I'm attracted, coming on strong when I feel an attraction and then doing a complete 180 in the opposite direction at the first sign of what I experience as rejection. I'm going to make it my goal to speak from a place of clarity without trying to play the martyr or victim but also tone down my intensity when I meet someone. I've decided to focus on getting my book published, on building and growing AfroerotiK to what I dream it can be and not focus on my sexuality for the time being. I don't think shutting off my sexuality is healthy; I think there needs to be balance in everything. But I'm also aware that I have to play the cards I've been dealt. So while love and intimacy and sex are the things I desire the most, they have also remained elusive for a reason. The only way I know how to cope with that is to stay clear about what I want, not compromise just to fill a void, and live with integrity to my goals.
My sexuality, for the first 15 years of my sexual adulthood, was shaped by limiting, patriarchal, misogynist dysfunction. My sexuality was shaped largely by reading my mother's vast and extensive collection of pornography. I suspect my mother was more interested in collecting the erotica of the day in order to appear progressive and make men fall in love with her rather than her own sexual liberation. My identity was shaped by trying to distance myself from my dysfunctional mother who dated every married man she could get her hands on in order for her to never have to deal with betrayal and hurt again like she experienced from my biological father. My sexuality was shaped by an overwhelming sensation that I was inherently unlovable because my father never wanted to lay his eyes on me. My sexuality was formed by being a physically and emotionally abused child who thought she had to apologize to the world and who thought she had no right to express displeasure or demand that my boundaries be respected. When I was raped, I never thought to press charges because I had been conditioned to expect a life of pain and disappointment. When I was rejected by men who discarded me like trash, I would beat myself up and try to prove to them that I was worthy, that I was a great lover and partner and anything that they could ask for. While my grandparents showed me this fantastic, unconditional, all-encompassing love, they taught me that my sexuality was dirty and unmentionable. Everything I learned from those early life experiences I had to unlearn as I've grown in consciousness.
I attended an all white elementary school, junior high, and high school. I was ridiculed by the few Black students as not being Black enough because I got all A's and B's. I was an exceptional student who wasn't nurtured and encouraged by white teachers because there were uncomfortable with my Blackness. My Blackness didn't fit in their definition. I was not ghetto but I also wasn't willing to deny my unique history and the history of my ancestors. I attended an undergraduate program in textile technology because, while I wanted desperately to be in the fashion industry, I didn't want to be average or superficial. I wanted to have knowledge that the average person on the street wouldn't dream of knowing. I dedicated myself to mastering subjects like organic chemistry and weft knitting only to graduate and only get recognition and acknowledgement in the work force for my creativity. Nearly a decade later, I decided to pursue a Master's degree in African and African American Studies with a concentration in psychology. I had been growing and evolving personally and I needed a change. I needed to push myself, again, to learn things that the average person walking down the street wouldn't know. I chose to attend an HBCU, to surround myself with what I thought would be progressive, forward thinking Blacks who were equally as committed to dismantling the mindsets learned in slavery that keep up oppressed. I was faced with a reality that my fellow students didn't give a damn about the things I was concerned with and I felt even more isolated than when I was the sole Black student in a classroom of 30. Earning a 4.0, I accomplished that mission and did my very best to understand how African Americans came to think and behave in such detrimental, dysfunctional ways and how to go about healing those pathologies and exactly what a healthy model of behavior for descendents of slaves should look like.
My mission in life is to create social change, to educate and enlighten, to lift the consciousness of Africans born in America, and to break the chains of mental slavery. I use sex as a means to accomplish my mission, specifically, I write Black and interracial erotica in an attempt to discuss the issues that plague us, to dismantle the beliefs that keep us limited, and to paint a new picture of us as healthy individuals. Erotica is not the only tool I use but it certainly is an effective one. My personal sexuality has been influenced by my mission in that, in trying to live my life in a way that is congruent with my mission, I've alienated myself from a great number of men who only want to fuck me because of my big booty or because I have pretty feet or because they just want a piece of ass. I've redefined my sexuality because it can no longer fit into the narrow box that made me think that sex was, at best, recreation, and at the very least, something reminiscent of a porno.
Simply stated, I define erotic as a culmination of sights, sounds, scents, tastes, and sensations that arouse the body. AfroerotiK is intimacy; it is an intimacy that is so deep and abiding that you can be your authentic self with your partner without fear or hesitation. AfroerotiK is spiritual; it's a connection to a larger scheme whereby an individual can understand that their sexuality can't be defined by oppressive, rigid, and puritanical beliefs created by white men to keep people oppressed but that is a divine expression of pleasure and connection. AfroerotiK is displaying pride, dignity, and strength of character by releasing the debilitating and harmful mindsets inherited in slavery/colonialism and embracing a holistic perspective where sex is not about power or money or some tool to dull your senses but about communication, about honoring oneself, about the decadent and hedonistic abandon that can be experienced in the throes of passion.
When I sit down to create a story, I draw upon an ideal vision I see in my head of a future world where gender roles aren't so rigid. I dream a world where people embrace newer, more evolved ways to address sexuality and completely divorce themselves of the behaviors that lead them to lie, cheat, and manipulate in order to have sex. Every time I create a story, I close my eyes and envision a world where couples are more open, expressive, and honest with one another. I'm inspired to expose white people's inherent, core racist beliefs, no matter how much they deny their existence, each and every time I write a tale of interracial lust. My goal is to show Black people, complex and healthy, as role models who just happen to have passionate, intense, uninhibited sex.
My gender preference in a lover has been exclusively male for the past decade. Moreover, my most intense, emotional attraction is to men of color. The qualities I most appreciate and respect in a man are those that are rare in most African American men today, thus making my search for a partner extremely difficult. The trait most essential for me in a partner is introspection. I desire a partner who has been able to examine the events and influences in his life that shaped him, shaped his consciousness, identified those things that were detrimental to his development, and who is constantly working on redefining himself anew. I desire a partner who understands his emotional triggers and is cognizant enough to understand how those things are injurious to forming a healthy relationship and is working on healing those wounds. My ideal partner is a man of integrity, who understands the concept of honesty and embraces it, who practices a spiritual system other than Christianity, Judaism, or Islam. The perfect man for me is also a man who identifies himself as openly bisexual, having rid himself of absurd notions of manhood and who relates to me as a human being and a woman without expecting me to adhere to patriarchal, oppressive roles. To finish off my grocery list of things I desire in a partner, I would add extremely intelligent, creative, and capable of being monogamous.
My sex life has been severely stunted in the past 10 years, so much so that I find it difficult to remember what sex is like, let alone great sex. I vaguely remember having sex, with certain people, at certain times, but my memories are distorted. I don't have a "most memorable orgasm" experience. The experiences that are most memorable for me are the ones where I felt most loved. I don't remember the physical things we did so much as I remember the emotion of the experience. Even then, I'm still fuzzy on the pictures in my head because I'm so divorced from my sexuality now that everything sort of seems a blur. I do remember faking a hell of a lot of orgasm with men to appease their egos, or at least my motivation was to make them feel manly. I remember being used for sex a lot. I think the thing I've learned about my sexuality in the past is that my greatest sex is yet to come, with a partner who loves me, where I can experience completely uninhibited, unbridled, passionate, romantic, sensual, AfroerotiK sex.
There are too many vital, important, pressing issues of sexuality today to just limit it to one. HIV, the virus that causes AIDS, is rampant and deadly and is being spread amidst a cacophony of lies and denial. Rape, molestation, and sexual abuse are happening behind every door and leaving a trail of damaged, broken people in its wake. The objectification of women is sooooo pervasive, so accepted that it's hard to even address the issue because people have accepted the hypersexualization of women as being normal and expected. Sex in exchange for money distorts, warps, and damages the delicate equilibrium of intimacy that sex should be about and makes it about power and control. Everything about sexuality is fucked up. There isn't one thing that is more important than another; all the issues are interconnected and seriously in need of fixing.
Right now in my life I'm trying to become comfortable with the fact that I just may never find love. I'm trying to become comfortable with the fact that the rest of my life just might be lived with a series of short term relationships that are meant to teach me about life and nothing more significant than that. It's been brought to my attention recently that I send mixed messages to the individuals to whom I'm attracted, coming on strong when I feel an attraction and then doing a complete 180 in the opposite direction at the first sign of what I experience as rejection. I'm going to make it my goal to speak from a place of clarity without trying to play the martyr or victim but also tone down my intensity when I meet someone. I've decided to focus on getting my book published, on building and growing AfroerotiK to what I dream it can be and not focus on my sexuality for the time being. I don't think shutting off my sexuality is healthy; I think there needs to be balance in everything. But I'm also aware that I have to play the cards I've been dealt. So while love and intimacy and sex are the things I desire the most, they have also remained elusive for a reason. The only way I know how to cope with that is to stay clear about what I want, not compromise just to fill a void, and live with integrity to my goals.
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Saturday, July 05, 2008
Fellas, You Gotta Tighten up your Game
I've been on the net over 10 years now. For several of those years, I unofficially reigned as the queen of NEW Black erotica. In all of my internet travels, of the thousands upon thousands of people I've met on this vast and virtual wide web we call the world, not once have I ever initiated contact with, had chemistry with, or been sexually aroused by a man who has a picture of his penis on his profile.
I don't have a penis, I don't really understand the workings of people who do, but I would think that after some time on the Internet, men would understand that most women are not aroused by dick pics. I am not attracted to dicks, I'm not superficial so men with bigger dicks don't earn extra points with me, and in fact, if a man has a picture of his dick on his profile, I usually find it repulsive and I'm inclined to not engage in any sort of in depth conversation with him. Men who want to depict and portray themselves to the world as their dick are not the sorts of men I'm inclined to want to get to know. I would think that I'm far from being the only woman who feels this way YET day after day, I'm amazed at the number of men who feel that their dick pic is going to hypnotize and entice me to engage in conversation.
Gentlemen, your penis, while it may be infinitely arousing, magical, and mystical to you, while it may hold your attention exclusively for hours upon hours, is no different, more arousing, or charismatic than the 100 million other penises that are shoved in my face on a daily basis. If a man chooses to display a picture of his dick as what he wants the world to see and identify him wotj, I immediately think he's immature and shallow, and in many cases, depending on his screen name, offensive and repulsive. No, I don't want to see your cam, no I'm not aroused by watching you masturbate, and seeing you ejaculate holds no great thrill for me. I'm not driven to laugh at, taunt, or humiliate men with little white ones as I'm equally as disinterested in marveling over big black ones that are posed in contrast to your remote control, soda can, or ones that can tell time with your watch on it.
What will it take for men to understand that women who are aroused by pictures of penises are actually in the minority? I've been more aroused by men with NO pictures on their profiles who don't ever show me a picture than I have been by men with Heavy D and the Boyz on display. And if your screen name has,"69", "XXX", "inches4u", or some phonetic spelling of the N word incorporated into it, I'm not only going to be repulsed, but I'm going to ignore your IM's, emails, and comments.
In 2008, fellas, if you are so full of shame that you can't display your face on your profile for fear that someone will recognize you and know that you are . . . God forbid . . . a sexual being, then that's problematic and an indication that you aren't sexually mature. If you are thinking that women around the globe are going to see your penis and get instantly wet and BEG you to have casual and uninhibited sex, that somehow, your penis is going to be more captivating and different than the other 67 cajillion pictures of penises that are being forced, figuratively, down our throats, you are sadly mistaken.
I'm attracted to men, not their dicks. I'm attracted to the depth in a man's eyes. I'm attracted to his smile. I'm TURNED ON by his substance and warmth, his intellect and his ability to identify himself as more than the few inches of meat that hang between his legs. Moreover, men who show off their penises and think that is supposed to be arousing, interesting, or captivating for me as a woman are not arousing to me to say the very least.
Fellas, please keep these general rules of thumb at hand when traversing the internet.
If I want to see your penis, I will ask.
“Hey ma, u luk gud,” does NOT motivate me to call you on the telephone.
Copy and paste messages, where you think you are being unique and sending out blanket compliments like, “I just ran across your profile and it is very interesting. I wanted to say I had to write you. I love your smile and you look like a woman I want to get to know better. I can’t wait to hear from you,” are lame, tired, and not at all original.
And most importantly, your penis is not so gorgeous, captivating, or unique that it’s going to move women of substance to want to get to know you better.
Saturday, May 17, 2008
Catering to a Man’s Ego
I was asked to be a participant in a group chat the other evening. The participants included four women and one man. They were talking about, and all in agreement with, how there are certain instances when a woman has to cater to a man’s ego. In fact, they said that if a woman didn’t cater to a man’s ego, that made her a bad woman. When I spoke up in dissention, they got offended, saying that I wasn’t being supportive of Black men and insisting that men were fragile and needed their egos stroked in order to function properly. Catering to a man’s ego and being supportive are two different things.
Catering to a man’s ego is to allow him to continue to hold on to dysfunctional beliefs and practices in order to make him feel good. Being supportive is helping him grow, mature, and being there to be a shoulder to cry on in his hour of need. Being loving is showing affection and nurturing him because you care about him, his happiness, and his well-being as a person. To cater to a man’s ego is to feed his insecurities, to foster dysfunction in your relationship, and to perpetuate unhealthy ideologies.
The example was given that if a man lost his job, that before they go out to dinner the woman should give him the money to hold in order to allow him to pay for the meal in public. How absurd. If a man loses his job, and he can’t deal with a woman paying for dinner, then he’s emotionally immature. Moreover, in order for a woman to be supportive and loving, rather than catering to his male ego, she would be better off helping him work on his resume, emailing him job opportunities that match his needs, or taking that money and having his suit dry cleaned or doing administrative work to help him start his own business.
We live in a society where the male ego has gone rampant and unchecked. It needs to be reigned in. It needs to be harnessed and controlled in order to move the emotional maturity of Black men ahead. We, as Black women, MUST stop catering to a man’s ego. Black men are egotistical, expecting women to cower at their whim, jump through hoops in order to satisfy their needs, and blaming Black women for all sorts of things without taking responsibility for their own wrongdoings and misperceptions. The fact that we, as a society, equate a woman’s worth with her ability to appease a man’s ego speaks volumes about how diseased we are.
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