New Addition...

to my Blogroll. Go check out this new blog about disability and feminism. Very interesting people talking much more coherently than me about disability rights, feminism, and the intersectionality between them.

Celebrations

Happy Coming Out Day (yesterday) and Indigenous Peoples' Day (today)!

I just learned today that my father was there when the Wampanoag originally suggested that Columbus Day should be changed to a day celebrating the world's indigenous cultures, when he was an undergrad. Very cool.

Also, although I'm very out on this blog already, I'm queer and kinky and if there happens to be anyone out there reading who is curious or unsure about either of those things I would be perfectly happy having that conversation.

And now, a coming out story that I wrote for Coming Out Day last year:

So I kinda feel like "coming out" is much more ambiguous and less easily defined for bi-/pan-sexual/queer people than it is for those who identify as lesbian/gay, but here's my best attempt:

When I was younger I was very unclear about my sexuality. I grew up in a very open-minded town and knew plenty of gay and straight couples in the community, but bisexuality wasn't something that was ever really addressed anywhere. While I knew people who had had relationships with both men and women they were generally described as either "becoming" or "realizing that they were" gay after having had straight relationships.

By the time I was in middle school it was pretty clear that I was attracted to both women and men, not one or the other. I joined the gay-straight alliance and attended the meetings religiously. When I was 14 I kissed a girl at an event sponsored by the GSA. The next day I was approached by another girl in my grade (also a GSA member) and told how disgusting my behavior was. By the end of the day the information had spread throughout the school and I was officially labeled as "the gay girl" (even though I'm not really 'gay' exactly). My school was in a in a fairly conservative small town and this was before it was "hot" for girls to be bi- (which is a whole different issue), so it didn't really go over very well.

Thankfully, I soon transferred to a much more progressive school and most of my experiences since then have been much more positive (although people still assume that I am gay or straight based on who I am with at any given time).

On Being "Crazy"

As an addendum to my last post, I'm really sick of reading/ hearing "well, I don't think of insane or crazy being ableist words and I (or my friend, parent, whatever) have clinical depression." This isn't a topic I've discussed openly much, if ever, so bear with me.

Depression has its own stigma, people who are depressed are thought of as weak, they should "just get over it and be happy," or are told its "just a case of the blues." I don't want to suggest that depression isn't a real disease or minimize it in any way, but it's not the kind of mental illness that people are referring to when they use the word "crazy."

Crazy is something altogether different. Crazy is delusion, psychosis, mania, schizophrenia. Insanity, in the depths of society's psyche, is jabbering in tongues rocking back and forth in a padded room. It can't be trusted. It is the serial killer, the mother who kills her children, the man who laughs while committing the most vile crimes - this is what "crazy" conjures up in the minds of the general public.

This terror, this nightmare looming in the dark places of our collective consciousness is harmful. Incredibly so. It means that people who are not neurotypical are stuck with the paradoxical choice of lying or being mistrusted. Perhaps more importantly, it makes us less likely to seek help when it is needed. It took me years to admit, even to myself, that my brain was fundamentally different than most. Because I didn't want to be crazy.

I still don't. I'm terrified of the psychotic break that I am 30 - 50% more likely than others to have, even though I know that it would probably be manageable if it were to happen. I don't generally share the fact of my mental illness with others, even with those I am close to. Admitting who I am is risking ever being trusted or taken seriously again. The reason for this is "crazy."

Ableism at Feministing

Cosigned.

My biggest issue: the use of non-neurotypical status to discredit or dismiss the voices, opinions, and experiences of commenters in other marginalized groups (sex workers, kinksters, trans folk, etc) is unacceptable and needs to be addressed.

I don't know why I even bother to keep reading Feministing, but I just can't seem to help myself. Must be the masochism, or the crazy, or both.

Music is Fundamental

I would first like to apologize for not posting anything in over a month. I tend to have trouble with time. I have some ideas in the works, nothing fantastic so far but we'll see how it goes.

For now though, this was just too neat not to share:

World Science Festival 2009: Bobby McFerrin Demonstrates the Power of the Pentatonic Scale from World Science Festival on Vimeo.

It's the pentatonic scale, made up of five notes rather than the seven of the more common diatonic scale. It may not seem that impressive to someone who doesn't have much experience with music, but I know from experience that people generally don't learn music that quickly.

Also, as a fun side note, when I was younger I used to make up music and sing it to myself. I never wrote it out, just sang - composing as I went and forgetting it almost immediately. The vast majority of that music was in the pentatonic scale, not intentionally, but just because it sounded right.

Inanity

So this is very strange and entirely out of character, especially since I don't even watch reality TV, but the person in question is an old friend. If you are reading this before noon tomorrow (June 24) please go vote for my friend Vicki, who is trying to make it onto the next season of RuPaul's Drag Race.

He is a brilliant dancer and a wonderful person and has been passionate about drag for as long as I've known him. He actually worked to create a school sponsored drag show in high school ten years ago, which was really fairly revolutionary at the time.

A Week Late...

My condolences go out to the family, friends, and coworkers of Dr. Tiller.  I have little to say on the topic, except to fervently hope that the federal government recognizes this act of domestic terrorism for what it is and acts accordingly.

In other (happier) news, the President has proclaimed June "LGBT Pride Month."  This month marks the 40th anniversary of the Stonewall riots, and same-sex marriage has officially been legalized in six states - Rhode Island is now the only New England holdout against marriage equality.  

Still, I'm not thrilled.  Personally, and perhaps this is superficial, I would really like to see a "Q" at the end of that LGBT.  I wouldn't be opposed to an "I" or an "A" either, although I can see how it begins to be unwieldy.  Queer, though, I think is important; it leaves room for ambiguity.

Wow

So after that horrible Roller Coaster thread, Feministing seems to be full of reasonable, positive discussions of kink and BDSM.  Considering the way that every other discussion over there has gone, I'm impressed.

I sure hope this trend continues.

More from Feministing

I like this, although I'm not entirely sure why she posted it under "Sexual Assault" rather than "Sex."  Simple, straightforward, and not a bad analogy.  I wonder how long it will take for the comment thread to devolve into viciousness and chaos.  Unfortunately, I'm almost 100% sure that's what is going to happen.

Free Stuff!!

Apparently sextoys.com is having a sex toy giveaway contest.  Since a girl can never have too many toys, and I am a poor college student, I figured I'd give it a go.  Making my wish list was surprisingly difficult, but I think I came up with a good selection.  Many of the items are things that I can't afford/ wouldn't necessarily spend my own money on but would love to have.

So here's my wish list, loosely grouped by category:

Vibrators:

LILY and ELISE, both by Lelo.  I'm always drawn to Lelo toys when I go to the sex shop; they look and feel beautiful.  They are, however, a little outside of my budget, so this seems like a great opportunity to try and get my hands on a few.

A Waterproof Remote Control Vibrating Egg with a 15 foot range.  Do I really need to explain why this would be fun?  I've been wanting a discreet remote toy for quite a while now, this certainly seems to fit the bill.

Silicone Triple Orgasm Cockring with dual vibes for umm... all around fun.  My $8 mystery-jelly cockring managed to half melt somehow and this seems like a nice upgrade.

Explicitly Kinky:

Locking Wrist and Ankle Cuffs.  I tend to really enjoy rope, but cuffs are great way to restrain someone (generally me) quickly and securely.  Plus, I just don't have any decent ones at the moment.

A Leather Hog Tie, to go with the cuffs of course.

A Wide Tip Riding Crop, because I couldn't possibly get $1000 worth of sex toys without getting anything for hitting (and Giant has been eyeing crops pretty consistently for a while now).

The Little Devil Electric Toy, my reward for making it through an entire semester of electrical physics labs without inappropriately shocking myself (or anyone else).

Dildos, Plugs, and Balls:

I've been lusting after a glass dildo for quite a while, and the Berman Basics Ruby looks like it will do nicely.  I'm seriously interested in the temperature range glass provides, and they are so beautiful.

A Feeldoe Stout.  I've been curious about these "strapless strap-ons" since I first saw one several years ago.  

The Tiger by Fun Factory (in black).  I don't really know what to say about this other than that it is lovely and huge.  5.5" circumference = 1.75' diameter = awesome!  It is sure to satisfy the most intense of penetration cravings and is also fairly intimidating to look at (a serious bonus as far as partnered play goes).

The Tantus Silicone Ripple plug (small - in purple).  Can you tell that I really like silicone?  It's hygienic, easy to sterilize, and the texture and feel is fantastic.

Fun Factory Smart Balls - I've been wanting some for a while.  After all, why wouldn't I want to exercise my pelvic muscles?

And with all those new toys, I'll need something to put them in.  The last item on my wish list is a Lockable Vibrator Case (black), bringing me up to a grand total of $999.15.

Go check out the contest.

Closets and Such

So, as part of their violence against women prevention/awareness week my college showed The Price of Pleasure a couple weeks ago.  The presentation was put on by the Women's Studies Advisory Committee, which is essentially code for my advisor who runs the Women's Studies program (I am a math major now, but I used to be a women's studies major and I did not change advisors).  There was a brief discussion (about 45 minutes to an hour) following the film.  I went into it expecting to be at least slightly annoyed, but I wasn't quite prepared for how angry and uncomfortable I became.

The thing is, most of my current social circle is fairly kink-friendly; I generally don't have to deal with any sort of real anti-kink attitudes in real life (online is a different story).  As a result I just wasn't prepared for people's reactions to the content of the film, particularly the more explicitly BDSM imagery.  The film in no way addresses the differences between consensually negotiated BDSM and actual violence/degradation, in fact it tends to conflate the two.  Essentially, in addition to being fairly explicitly anti-porn the film has a strong unstated anti-kink message as well.  

So I just sat there watching these people, some of whom I know fairly well and otherwise like, recoil in horror, shaking their heads in disgust as I silently fumed in the corner.  Fundamentally, it wasn't actually the disgust or the horror that really bothered me, I can at least somewhat understand that, it was the obvious sense of moral superiority that accompanied it; the room was filled with an overwhelming sense of distain.  My few attempts at addressing this were either ignored or treated with thinly veiled contempt.

I don't really know what to say about the experience.  It was extremely unpleasant, of course, but that wasn't really the worst part.  I left that discussion feeling ashamed, slightly dirty.  Some part of me really wishes that I had been brave enough to say what I was really thinking.  I wanted to stand up and point out that as wonderful as all their theory was this was my real life they were talking about.  I wanted to scream.  I wanted to tell them that it wasn't porn, it was ideas like theirs that had seeped into my unconscious to warp and poison my sexuality.  I wanted to tell them how hard I had to fight to find myself again.  Most of all I wanted to point out exactly how dangerous their words could be.

But I didn't.  I didn't say much of anything once it became obvious that they wouldn't listen.  I chose self-preservation over truth, and while I know that choice was the right one, I still couldn't help feeling slightly bad about it.

Grrrr...

I had forgotten what it feels like to sit in a room full of people and watch them recoil in disgust at a sexuality that looks like mine.  The implication that I am disgusting and broken by patriarchy stings much more in real life, particularly when it comes from people I otherwise like and respect.

More on that later.

Relationship Blues

Lately, Giant and I have been having this problem.  Basically, I'm just not really feeling like I'm getting enough out of our sex/play.  We are both very busy and we live with an older couple who are not incredibly kink friendly, so part of it is just a lack of available time and space.  

I feel a bit like I'm being unreasonable, but I can't help it.  The thing is, he generally just has an easier time of it than I do for several reasons.  He's much better at masturbating than I am; I mean, it's a more satisfying activity for him than it is for me.  It's not that I can't, or that I don't orgasm, it's just that the orgasms I have from masturbating usually just aren't as good as they are with a partner.

He also tends to be more satisfied with vanilla sex than I am, which is unfortunate because it tends to be easier to arrange.  It's much simpler to find time (and space) for a plain old quickie than it is to break out the rope and whatever else (plus, vanilla tends to be a bit quieter).  

I get all of that, I really do.  The logical part of my brain completely understands that it's mostly a matter of convenience.  But there's this other completely irrational part of me that feels fundamentally hurt by the situation as it stands right now.  I feel unloved, neglected; I feel like he doesn't care that I'm not happy.  Which is ridiculous, he does care and I know that - but I can't help feeling like he doesn't.

This all came to a head tonight.  The housemates are out of town for tonight only, by the time we get home tomorrow they will most likely be back.  So I had really hoped that we would get to have some real serious fun time to make up for the recent lack, and we did fool around a little earlier.  He went up to bed about ten minutes before me, but the light was still on as I headed upstairs.  When I got there he put away the computer, turned off the light and promptly rolled over to sleep.

And I just started to cry.  I couldn't help it, I had too much energy built up inside me with nowhere to go.  I felt like I was going to explode, like I was about to burst out of my skin.  So I cried, and then we talked.  He asked what he could do to make me feel more like he cares about me, we brainstormed some ideas.  I guess we'll see how it goes.

Facebook Silliness

This would probably piss me off if it wasn't so completely ridiculous.  As it is, it mostly just makes me laugh.

"It teaches them that the only way they can be powerful is by merging with their all-powerful, god-like dom."  

Ha, ha, ha... All-powerful?  God-like?!  I love Giant to death, but no one who has ever met him would possibly define him as all-powerful or god-like.  Quiet, shy, kind - sure, but god-like is just silly.  Actually, most people tend to think I'm the dom (not quite sure what that means, but I suspect it says more about them than us).

I feel like I should have something significant to say, but it really is just to silly to take seriously.

Baseline

I'm back.  Not racing or flying or overflowing with inspiration, but not dragging myself through thick mud just to function either.  

It's a beautiful spring day and I'm perfectly content just to be.

Examining Desire (Part 3) - A Conversation

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Journey to the Underworld

The recent conversations I've been having at feministing, along with some thinking I've been doing on my own, have brought up some stuff I usually don't like to talk about.  Some truths are hard to face head on, I guess; it can be easier to leave the demons lurking below the surface.  The thing is, though, that sometimes they reach out and grab at you when you're not paying attention.

For as long as I can remember I've known that I was different.  I would volunteer to be tied up in childhood games, at night when I went to sleep I would cocoon myself tightly in the blankets until I could hardly move.  I remember playing some sort of damsel in distress game with the girl who lived across the street and failing miserably to grasp the concept.  We had been kidnapped (or something) by the "Bad Guy" and were now being held captive.  I remember my thoughts being something along the lines of an eager, "so is he going to do something horrible with us?" to which the response was, "no the prince will rescue us first"  (my reaction to the revelation that we didn't want to be captives was to suggest we just escape ourselves instead of waiting around to be rescued).  

For nearly as long as I can remember being different I can remember knowing that this difference was Bad and Wrong.  I knew this so surely that I tried to squash the difference, and I hated myself when I couldn't.  It would squeeze its way out, filling my mind with thoughts that disgusted and excited me all at once.  And the fact that they excited me disgusted me even more.  

This fusion of budding sexuality, shame, and guilt surged within me for several years before sucking me into the nightmare that, looking back, seems like a logical result of my painful insecurity and self-loathing.

I was sixteen, at a new high school, horribly shy and alone.  "Hook a loop of fear-paralysation into a mind frantically denying its need to surrender, bait a touch-starved, curious adolescent with affection from a pretty older boy, and watch a psyche fragment into a perfect rape victim and a panicked, impotent observer. Respectful and loving submission was unavailable, unthinkable, unallowable, so all I had was deer-in-the-headlights capitulation, where my sexual drives and my terror and his unceasing pressure conspired to shove me into a closet in my head."   I froze - couldn't speak, couldn't move.  I think he was oblivious rather than malicious, but maybe that's just what I tell myself in order to retain some shred of sanity.  I have never forgiven myself for my inability to respond, or for what came after.  At the end, when I could speak again, the only words that came were the ones he wanted to hear, not the agonized scream that lived deep inside me for years before I finally let it out.  After all, he was nice enough about it, he just never noticed I was gone.

A good girl, a normal girl, would have said no or pushed him away, it would have been rape.  But I didn't, because I couldn't, so it was just sex.  Because really, if there wasn't something wrong with me, if I wasn't such a terribly sick freak, it never would have happened.  And so I stayed.  For five years.  

It wasn't all bad, but most of it was.  And it got worse as time passed, became explicitly rape.  I learned how to say no, and how to push back.  One day, four years later, the wall just snapped.  I threw him halfway across the room.  I never let him touch me again, even though it was a few more months before I left without ever looking back.  I learned how to fight for myself.  And somehow, by learning how to articulate and defend what I did not want, I managed to come to terms with what I did.  

So don't (anyone, ever) tell me that my submission is like abuse or my partner is an abuser.  Don't be surprised if I bare my teeth when you suggest that I can't make that distinction.  I've been to that hell, I shed my humanity to the gate-keepers along the way.  And then I came back. 

With me I brought back clarity of vision.  Believe me when I say I can see the difference.

An Open Letter to Feminist Bloggers

Please stop comparing my sexuality to porn.  No really, just stop.  Every time is see something that looks like "female submission is based on a patriarchal mindset, the majority of porn, for example..." I stop caring what you have to say.  It's not like you're even talking about kinky or BDSM porn most of the time.  Now, I have mixed feelings about most porn, maybe I would even agree with some of the things that you have to say about it, but there is one thing that I am certain of.  Mainstream pornography is in no way related to my submissive desires and vice versa.  Porn is not an example of the pervasiveness of BDSM in mainstream culture and my submission is in no way influenced by the face that most porn shows women as sex objects for men.  

Now that we've gotten over that little hurdle, please stop generalizing your experiences.  I'm sorry you dated that asshole, I really am.  Just because you had a shitty boyfriend who told you that what he wanted was "kinky" when really he was just an asshole does not mean that all female submissives actually just don't realize that we are in shitty relationships.  In the same way that I don't submit because porn told me to, I also don't submit because I think that boys should be the boss in bed (doesn't really explain why I also submit to women, does it?) or because men will like it if I am submissive.  I wasn't coerced by my boyfriend to act out his misogynistic fantasies, it was my idea.  

While it may be true that it is socially acceptable to play with furry handcuffs or get spanked by your boyfriend trust me when I say that what I'm into is not.  It's not just normal gender roles acted out on an extreme scale either.  Odds are I might agree with your opinion of why gender roles suck.  I tend to think they do - particularly when they are just taken for granted, unexamined so to speak.  That's probably why I tend to get pissed off when you ask me to examine how my desires relate to traditional gender roles and patriarchy.  I have, they don't.  Part of growing up thinking that there is something horribly wrong with you is trying to figure out why you're so messed up.  

Maybe now that we've gotten all those assumptions out of the way we might be able to have some sort of meaningful discussion.  I sincerely hope we can.

Examining Desire (Part 2) - On Losing Myself

I said “I want to lose myself in you, in this.”  Is that what frightens people?  Because I wish it didn’t.  I wish there weren’t people out there who are afraid of that desire, protective in a way that I do not need.  I think that they are afraid that the loss is a bad thing, or that I won’t be able to find myself again.  Maybe the problem is in the language.

What do I mean when I say I want to lose myself?  I think this is the crux of the issue.  I mean I want to lose the neurotic perfectionism that hounds me.  I want to lose my fear that I am not enough, I want to lose the painful memories that live at the edges of every moment.  I want to “shuffle off this mortal coil,” but only temporarily.  But is that really losing “myself?”  When I have cast off all the external trappings of my daily life, what is left?  

All those things that make me who I am －  my brilliance, my insecurity, my past, my hopes and fears for the future － when they are gone what is left?  Only here and now and what is happening in this moment.  I wish I could find the words to explain how this feels, but I don’t.  Maybe language is too much a part of this external self, too closely tied to what I want to let go.  Maybe that is why it is hard from me to put it into words.  The closest I can come is this: I do not want to lose myself because I am running or hiding from something.  And I am not lost forever, I will always come back.  But when I am there, when I am gone I am also coming home.  I lose myself so I can find myself.

Paint by Numbers

I was helping a friend with Calculus homework the other day, and she said something that I thought was really neat; it explains perfectly why I love math.  μ has a degree in art is is going back to school to study STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering, & Mathematics).  The conversation went like this:

μ: "To me, math is is this horribly grueling painful thing, but once in a while I will finally understand some part of it well enough that I can just see what is supposed to happen.  Then it's like painting."

Me: "To me it's always like painting."

μ: "I know."

Addendum to "The Problem As I See It"

Sorry if I was over generalizing before, it's just really frustrating to me the way that real life can get lost in discussions of social theory.

On this thread at feministing, Jadelyn says: "It's funny, because I *tried* that navel-gazing back when I was realizing what some of my sexual desires were and, at the same time, growing into my feminism. Yeah, that was an ugly mind-fuck to work through."

Yeah, this is the real issue for me. I mean, I think that curiosity and social critiques are fine and all, but when you're at that stage - when you're young and unsure about your desires - if the message that you get is that your sexuality is incompatible with or harmful to feminism, well it's not a fun (or safe) place to be.

Maybe my experience is completely abnormal because I grew up in a very feminist town and area, but it was such a struggle for me to be okay with my sexuality. I tried for years to just act normal in the hopes that if I tried hard enough at it I just might change. I didn't. But I did end up in a really horrible abusive vanilla relationship and I think that part of the reason that happened, and a large part of the reason I had so much trouble leaving, was that I struggled so much with being submissive.

I think that to a certain extent I had internalized the idea that my desires justified the way that I was treated, I mean I wanted to be dominated, right? And everyone knows that's weird and dirty and certainly not feminist or self-respecting. If I had had a feminist community saying, "no, these two things can be compatible, you can have and act on those desires and still deserve to be respected as a human being" my life would have been much simpler.

So, I'm not saying don't critique, but just be careful of the ways in which you frame your questions and the messages that you send.