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Play a Simple Melody
what i want to do is write, with my face very close to the page, carefully carving out the lines that will tell you what i’m discovering. and then i want to sing you those lines. the ones that fell out of my pen when i tried to do something academic. so here it is. jumbled but honest, just the same.
about a year ago i discovered the internet. well, i knew about the internet. aim turned into msn turned into yahoo and askjeeves and google to myspace to facebook to gmail to youtube to youporn to hulu. i knew about the world wide web. but a year ago, when i was lost in a mess of my own sexuality and dependency and confused, emotional, political, gray space, i started a blog. on tumblr. an extremely quiet blog without my name or my photo and rarely an original thought. and then i slowly began to make my way into the queerest, most liberating, strange space i had ever known. i spent hours a day, scrolling through photos of outfits and landscapes, tent forts and tattoos and fancy cappuccinos. and videos of people’s girlfriends and boyfriends and boifriends and grrrlfriends and kittens and questions and do it yourself beanbag instructions and kitchen herb gardens and hormone updates and advice on everything under the sun. and there was humor and pain and people wrote about their feelings and their breakups and i wrote about my feelings and my breakup. and there was gender. and sexuality. and so. much. fucking. gender. more than i had ever seen. there were boys and women and girls, men, butches, femmes, bears, twinks, androgynes, genderqueer and genderfucked and genderfluid, mtf, ftm, mtftm, ftmtwtf, transmen, transwomen, transfags and dykes and queers and birls and fairies and bdsm and softbutchgrrlylesbois and gays and bis and trans* folks and polyamorous, pansexual, transsexual, omnisexual, demisexual, asexual, all sexual porn. and stories and pictures and names and pronouns and questions and answers and everything in between the certain and the totally fucking uncertain. and it was all right there. on my computer. on tumblr. on youtube. right there behind my screen. and i was on the outside—safely out of reach. safely anonymous, safely in denial, dangerously curious. they inspired me. they confused me. they lit up a sexy little fire in the pit of my stomach that i called…intellectual curiosity. academic interest. research. that’s valid. that’s understandable. that’s safe. something i would later come to realize was kinship. a very painful perfect, deep—rooted secret connection. i had found the frayed end of a rope and i wanted to follow it. but it took me a while to figure out that the anchor on the other end was me.
***
This post was written by one of my Sexuality and Social Media students, Maggie Campbell. The beauty of her words inspire me.
For her class project, Maggie explored the following:
What meanings do trans* and genderqueer folks find in online communities? How is social identity formed through collective association with content? Communities created on sites like Tumblr and Youtube operate within frames that determine aspects of reality for the individual and the group. My guess is that these communities provide folks the opportunity to share knowledge and experiences, create solidarity, access sexual images that reflect their bodies and identities, and explore gender fluidity.
The way I see it, the possibilities for expression of gender and sexual identities in the context of queer online space are expanded far beyond that of performance in public, or even private, offline space—an already transformative and dynamic experience is now situated within an equally malleable platform.
Join me in finding out what Maggie discovered on WordPress and Tumblr. You can also follow her on Twitter. I don't know where the future will take Maggie after she graduates, but as a card-carrying member of her fan club, I can't wait to find out!
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Best Boy -- Part 638.5
Best Boy played a huge role in my life during the past two years. He was my friend, my lover and my crutch, as I went through two lumpectomies and 26 days of chemotherapy and other IVs. We went through a war together.
Ending our relationship in September of 2010 was easy. Ending our relationship again in May of 2011 wasn't. From June through December, Best Boy and I were on and off like a light switch. My thoughts about our relationship varied with the temperature. By the end of the year, though, I knew that I couldn’t do this – us – anymore. I had hurt him, and he had hurt me. He had been there for me, and I had been there for him. And, yet, that wasn't enough for either of us. We didn't envision a future together.
Hearing from him on my birthday was like irritating an old wound. Was he trying to reengage in a way that preyed upon my vulnerabilities?
We hadn't talked or texted in three months. It seemed unnecessary at a minimum and cruel at a maximum for him to reach out to me two weeks before my mastectomies.
The rest of our text exchange over the next 30 minutes was as follows:
Me: I wish we could be friends on some level, and I want to hear how you’re doing. Just seems unrealistic…like picking an old scab.
Best Boy: It’s cool. Don’t worry.
Me: It’s not about worrying. It’s about making me feel bad at a time when I should be focusing my energies elsewhere. I cared about you, and you hurt me. Hearing from you is just a reminder of that…
Best Boy: I reached out because I care…that was my intent. Sorry for disrupting you.
Me: Fine. I get your intentions and don’t think of you as a malicious person. It just still hurts a bit at a time when I already feel vulnerable enough as it is.
Best Boy: Well, I will not bother you again…focus on you.
Me: Thanks.
I exhaled after I sent the last text, dried the few tears from my cheeks and let it go. I don’t know whether or not Best Boy was sincere in his motivation for reaching out to me, and I don’t need to know. My energies are focused elsewhere, as they should be. There will be a day when Best Boy and I can be friends again, but now is not that time.
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Trying to Exhale
The role of a writer is not to say what we all can say, but what we are unable to say. ~Anaïs Nin
I write because I love doing so. I write to process my feelings. I write to make others laugh, cringe or think. I write to educate. And, thanks to the reach of the blogosphere, I write as a way to communicate with friends from all stages of my life and receive support from others.
The compassion and strength you all showed in your comments last week meant so much to me. Processing the emotions surrounding my upcoming mastectomies isn’t linear. Most times, I’m comfortable with my decision, and my emotions are calm. Other times, though, I’m edgy, angry and sad. I wrote last week’s post about my surgery when all those emotions were coming to a head. You got that and were able to offer support without judgment or platitudes. Thank you!
In my pre-op appointment with the reconstructive surgeon last week, she informed me that she won’t be taking my back muscle and tissue during this surgery. That’s very good news! I’ll be out of the hospital in a night or two. I hopefully will be able to sleep on my back, and I won’t need as much physical therapy. (There’s a slight chance that the surgeon might need to take from my back muscle during reconstruction, but we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.)
Over the past two weeks, I’ve lined up care from home nurses, dog walkers and friends. Given my health history, I can’t predict how my body will react after surgery, but I can take control of certain elements. (For those of you who might be wondering, my best friend will be with me at the hospital, but The Man insisted on joining us. Yes, he's a good guy.)
I’m sure I’ll be writing more about surgery in the coming week, but for now, I’m able to focus on my blessings. I keep reminding myself of the reasons why this is the recommended course of action for me. I close my eyes, exhale and think of myself a few years from now, hugging my daughter with my long ponytail blowing in the breeze.
Why do you write?
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How do you define cheating?
What constitutes cheating?
That question might seem like a simple one, but in reality, the issue is far more complex.
Is an emotional affair cheating? A kiss? Flirtations via text or email that never amount to any in-person interaction?
The answers to these questions are subjective. If you’re in a relationship, especially in the age of social media, it’s worth communicating with your partner to set ground rules. What are acceptable interactions with others, and what isn’t? How do you both define cheating and unfaithful behavior?
Brittany Horowitz, one of my Sexuality and Social Media students, has been exploring whether social media and the Internet has changed how people define infidelity. She writes in this post about anonymity:
With the Internet being used as an outlet for sexual activity, it is interesting to look at the behavior taking place and decide if it can be considered infidelity. With cybersex, actual sexual behavior is not taking place in person. People are not physically touching one another, rather they are describing sexual acts to one another. However, some might argue that cybersex and other sexual behavior online can be considered detrimental to a relationship because it can qualify as emotional infidelity.
She also cites a study regarding online infidelity, in which authors Henline, Lamke and Howard state:
“Participants in this study included chatting with random people, keeping secrets from your partner, showing yourself to the online contact, and betraying the confidence of your partner in their descriptions of what should be considered unfaithful behaviors in a committed relationship” (123).
I was surprised to read that infidelity is no longer the number one cause for divorce. Why do people stay after one partner’s unfaithful behavior has been exposed?
According to Jill Brooke, people stay because of “[a] fear of loneliness. A fear of change. A dread of dismantling a family that you spent a lifetime constructing and having your children ping pong between two residences during holidays. There’s also a comfort in the rhythm of family life, the carpooling, the grocery shopping for more than one, the weekday nights eating at the oak table with your old wedding china.”
Read more of Brittany’s findings on the subject here.
How do you define cheating? Would you stay – or have you stayed -- if a partner cheated on you?
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Best Boy -- Part 638
Earlier this week, I heard my cell phone vibrate. I assumed that it was a text with birthday wishes, but my smile turned to a look of confusion when I saw the name of the sender. It was Best Boy.
He wrote:
Happy Birthday. I heard that you were having surgery soon…praying for you.
I exhaled as I fought off the urge to shed any tears. Best Boy and I hadn’t communicated in any form in almost three months. Why now? Why like this?
Me: I appreciate your intentions, but I’m not sure what to respond. It’s tough for me to hear from you.
Best Boy: It was tough for me as well, given our last conversation. I don’t want anything bad or trying to happen to you. When I heard, I instantly wanted to reach out, but felt like it might not be the best…for good intentions or not. I thought about it again and felt I would let you know that I am praying for you because I believe you are a good person.
By this point, a few tears fell down my cheeks. Best Boy was with me the night that I was diagnosed with breast cancer, and he stood by my side during every round of chemotherapy. And, then, when he found out that I was spending time with Mr. Agency again, he pulled away. Not entirely, mind you, but enough that he wasn’t there for me with any reliability or regularity. It had taken a lot of will power for me not to reach out to him when I scheduled my mastectomies. For 1 1/2 years, Best Boy had been my friend, my lover and my crutch through the toughest time in my life.
Was Best Boy really reaching out to me for the reasons he claimed, or was this just an opportunity to reenter my life? Was there more for me – or us – to say?
To be continued…
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Assuaging a husband's fears about sex toys
Question: I've never used an adult toy before, but lately, I've found myself wanting to try one. I mentioned the idea to my husband, and he got pretty offended by the suggestion. I asked him, "Why?" and he just told me that I'm married so I shouldn't need any toys. What should I do?
I posed this question to readers and Facebook followers, and received some great responses!
Susan questioned the husband's reasoning, writing, “It all comes down to why he 'doesn't like the idea,' yes? My best advice would be for them to go together to one of the classes that a local enlightened toy store holds and open up the discussion. If his unwillingness to 'allow' his wife to experiment with what feels good to her is because he's closed-minded, I'm not sure what to say.”
And, Teacher Girl suggested the following:
I would just buy one anyway and start using it on your own when he isn't around to learn what you like. Then, when you know and you are comfortable, invite him to watch you use the toy one day. I am sure he will be so turned on that he will learn that toys are not the enemy!
How would I tackle the situation?
1. Decide if you’re interested in using a toy by yourself or with your partner. If it’s for your own personal use, follow Teacher Girl’s advice. You can determine if and how you like the toy and if and when to invite your partner into the mix.
2. Communicate openly with your husband about why you want to try a toy and what his concerns are. In a recent study by Indiana University, research indicated that approximately half of those men and women surveyed had used a vibrator with their partner. It’s perfectly normal to want to experiment with sex toys, and it’s perfectly normal not to. (As with all intimate communication, broach this discussion at a time when both of you aren’t feeling rushed and there’s no expectation of sex.)
3. Figure out what your husband’s concerns are and if it’s possible to assuage his fears. At times, couples just need to agree to disagree. Your first toy might end up being something that you use discreetly by yourself. Or, there can be a meeting of the…let’s go with minds. Impress upon your husband that toys aren’t a substitute for sex or intimacy. Your interest in a vibrator doesn’t mean that you don’t want to have sex or that he doesn’t excite you. Rather, you hope that using a toy will make your sex life even better by increasing your pleasure and his!
4. Pick the right toy for you. Check out good recommendations for beginners. If you’ll be using a toy with your husband, find a toy that isn’t intimidating or phallic looking like the Lelo Siri. Then introduce it for a few minutes into your bedroom routine. You can also purchase a toy that’s intended for couple’s use like the Lelo Tor or Fun Factory Smart Balls. Another option is Teacher Girl’s idea to invite your husband to watch you pleasure yourself. If you're not sure what to buy or how to use the toys, follow Susan's advice and check out a sex-positive boutique or website!
I hope that with some communication and creativity, you and your husband figure out that you are both fans of sex toys in the bedroom. Keep me posted!
So, readers, what suggestions do you have? Did I miss anything?
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On attachment and feelings
As the youngest in my class in 5th grade, I watched a few of my friends get their first bras. One afternoon, I stuffed tissues down my shirt and giggled with my friends about what I would look like with boobs.
In 7th grade, I missed over a month of school due to health issues. When I returned to a reduced schedule, I was 5’3” and 75 pounds.
In 9th grade, I started filling out. I went from wearing a training bra to a C-cup seemingly overnight. I wasn't self-conscious about my curves, but I didn't fit in socially either.
When I moved overseas in my sophomore year in high school, I vowed to reinvent myself. My braces were off, my hair was longer, and I began to embrace my body. I wanted attention from the boys and invites to all the parties, and that’s exactly what I got!
Through that time, I began to associate my boobs and long hair with my power and sexuality. As my breast got bigger and bigger and my hair got longer and longer, that increased exponentially.
I wear between a 34F and a 34G bra right now. I am very attached to my tits. (If I could write that sentence 500 times in all capitals and bold letters, it still wouldn’t do my attachment justice.)
When I come to after surgery on April 25th, I will be an A-cup for the first time in 26 years.
I an angry at cancer.
I'm disappointed that I’m not eligible for immediate reconstruction.
I am sad that I have to go through this all without my mom. (She passed away from cancer in 1997.)
I am heartbroken that through chemotherapy and this upcoming surgery, I will have lost the physical attributes that I’m most attached to. My hair and my tits were my signatures. Cancer will have taken both of them from me.
I’m slightly concerned that even after mastectomies, I will still have a 5% chance of developing breast cancer in the left breast and 12% in the right breast.
And, I’m very disappointed that so much misinformation is out there for women wanting to learn about the process.
Do I have faith that I will get through this experience? Of course.
Will I live my life as though cancer is never returning? Yes.
Do I take comfort in making this experience about more than just me? Definitely.
Do I stress less, cry less and put up with less crap than I did before cancer? Sure.
Do I laugh less than I did before cancer? Yes…unfortunately.
Do I know that my worth and my identity are more than the sum of my physical parts? Deep down, I do.
Do I look forward to the day when this experience is a distant memory? Every. Single. Day.
What are you attached to?
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Sex Ed
The vows of abstinence break far more than latex -- Dr. Joycelyn Elders.
These powerful words from the closing keynote at last week’s Momentum Conference on Sexuality, Feminism and Relationships are still resonating with me. Dr. Elders joined fellow panelists and sexual educators Lara Riscol and Esther Perel to speak about Sex in America: Changing the Conversation between Smut and Sanctimony. The highlights on Storify are available here.
A fair amount of the session addressed the need for comprehensive sex education throughout the lifespan. Dr. Elders also commented that:
The best contraception is a good education.
The panel’s focus on sex education reminded me of one of my Sexuality and Social Media students’ projects. Demi is writing about whether sex should be discussed in the classroom. Specifically, she's exploring the conversation of sex education in schools and examining age appropriate health class discussions, contraception accessibility, and the teacher-student relationship in the classroom. She also is summarizing the sex education debate and concluding to what extent sexuality should be incorporated into the academic curriculum.
Demi has looked at reports about sex education in schools in the US, and the statistics are interesting to say the least. According to the National Conference of State Legislatures:
• 37 states require school districts to allow parental involvement in sexual education programs;
• Three states require parental consent before a child can receive instruction;
• 35 states and the District of Columbia allow parents to opt-out on behalf of their children;
• 21 states and the District of Columbia require public schools to teach sex education (including HIV education);
• 35 states and the District of Columbia require students receive instruction about STIs and HIV/AIDS; and
• 17 states require sex education curricula to be medically accurate and/or age appropriate. State policies vary in their determination of “medically accurate;” some require that state health departments review curricula, while others require that the facts taught come from “published authorities upon which medical professionals rely.”
I find it fascinating that so many legislatures and parents in this day and age still question the necessity of sex education. As Dr. Elders and so many other sex educators opine, sex education should occur from kindergarten through 12th grade. I look forward to reading more about Demi's findings.
What type of sex education, if any, did you receive? Did any of the above statistics surprise you?
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Bully
I couldn't watch the trailer for the documentary, Bully, without tearing up. I hope that this movie shines a bright light on the serious and systemic problem of bullying and encourages dialogue, tolerance and education.
The movie made me think about a time in my life when I was bullied. In the hopes that more people will communicate about this topic, here is my story:
Geek. Prude. Nerd.
These were all words I was used to hearing in 9th grade. Sure, I had my group of good friends, but they were all in the band and on Academic Team like me. Other factors also influenced where I fit in – or didn’t – back in high school:
• I was a year younger than the rest of the class so I developed later than most.
• I was a teacher’s pet.
• We were one of the few non-Italian Catholic families in town.
• I identified as a feminist since kindergarten.
I had tried to talk to my mom about not fitting in before, but she believed that I would outgrow that like she did.
“Just ignore them,” she told me. “It won’t matter years from now anyway.”
One day in Spanish class, our teacher brought us all into the auditorium. (She was the point person for an assembly that afternoon on the Revolutionary War and needed to set up.) Our class was told to stand quietly in the back of the room for the entire period. A few of the popular girls started looking at the props for the assembly, and three of them picked up muskets.
It didn’t take long before the leader of the group turned her musket toward me and the other two girls followed. They pretended to take shots at my head, as they said things like:
“The world would be a better place if you were dead.”
"I wish there were real bullets in these guns."
This went on for 20 minutes.
I ignored them and just took it – part out of pride and part out of fear. The rest of the class was there, but no one said or did anything. The teacher was too far away to hear or see, and she never came back to check on the class.
A few days later, my father’s employer offered him the chance to move overseas. He vacillated about going, until I told him that I would join him. In less than a month, I was in Turkey and had reinvented myself.
I realize how many kids had and have it far worse than I did. I also know that 99.99% of bullied youth don’t have the luxury of making the problem disappear by moving halfway around the world.
I saw the ringleader at our 20th High School Reunion. I said hello to her, and left it at that. In the back of my head, though, I wondered if she was raising her child to be more tolerant than she was. I fervently hope so.
What are your thoughts on the documentary? Do you believe there should have been such a controversy over the movie's rating?
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Charity Shopping Event on 4/5
When I think of my rescue dog, Flake, this saying comes to mind:
No one adopted Flake (aka Nutter) for nine months because she was so shy and lethargic. Five years of being abused and overbred will do that to a dog. Since I adopted her three years ago, she's transformed into a model dog -- literally!
I've written previously about the Fashion for Paws program and my commitment to do my part for the 30,000 animals that the Washington Humane Society cares for each year. Flake and I will be walking in the Fashion for Paws Annual Runway Show again this month.
Flake at the 2011 Show. Photo Credit: Vithaya Photography
If you're in the DC area and free on the evening of Thursday, April 5th, there will be a shopping event at Vineyard Vines in Tysons. The entire store will be 10% off, and an additional 10% of all sales will be donated to Fashion for Paws. Join me if you can!
Do you have a best furry friend? What do they mean to you?
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