Survival Mode

I sat down to write this piece a few times over the past couple of months and I just… couldn’t.

They say writing about what is hardest is the most rewarding, cathartic, and difficult–explicable by the history of alcoholism and depression within “the arts”, but this topic was another beast. Perhaps because I don’t have an answer to the questions I’ll soon pose. Perhaps because some of the events are still “too fresh”. Perhaps because I’m not sure it’s possible to remedy.  

I have a slew of topics that I sit down to cover and know it’s just not the right time to put the words down, let alone edit them, record them, re-listen to them, and for some reason over the last month that’s just how I felt about “this”. Maybe I didn’t know where to start, or how to say it–being a particularly sensitive topic, but it’s a conversation we need to start having more practically.

However, I run best on spite and a sprinkle of wickedness and after a rather disappointing discussion with a group of professional and semi-pro athletes, many of whom are college educated black men…

…I simply don’t understand what the fuck is wrong with men.

These men doubled down on the fact that they think it is COMPLETELY fine to be deceitful, dishonest, and manipulative in order to get a woman into bed because it’s part of “your game”. EVEN AFTER I LOOKED RIGHT AT SOMEONE I’VE KNOWN FOR OVER A DECADE AND SAID, “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YA’LL. THAT IS NOT “CONSENT”.”

This is exactly why dating men for women is America’s “most dangerous game”.

(Also, perhaps, why I like it.)

Be like Megan Thee Stallion, don’t even tell these little bitches where you live. Don’t give them the damn time of day. They truly think leading with manipulation and dishonesty is absolutely completely fine and says nothing about their character. Ha. ha. Ha. 

See, this is why I sleep well knowing all of the men I fuck will be haunted by the memory of me for years to come.

I am content with knowing I’ll be victorious in the long game. At some point, whether that moment is while they’re taking a stroll through the park with their future wives, seeing a long blonde ponytail swish past in a breeze, perhaps the moment they hear the scream of a ghoul, accompanied by the melodious, maniacal cackle of a gaggle of witches bounding around in character for halloween, or the psychologically disturbing thriller that shatters box office records, they will one day think of me and recognize the power they missed out on due to sheer negligence. I smirk mercilessly knowing those days will come and I will be unphased, unaware, yet all the wiser because it is bound to occur. It is just so. (Unless, of course, they have a horribly disfiguring accident and the TBI makes them intellectually incoherent but the greatest likelihood is the former). 

I’m not sure whether it was fresh off the remnants of Strider turning out to be a manipulative drunk sociopath.

Seriously.

Not an exaggeration.

He actually admitted this to me.

(Which, I was like… wow… the self awareness. What a perk.)

If I die in Atlanta, let me direct you to his 70’s style retro house where he probably has women’s bodies buried in the vents like “Disturbia”.

Kid has some issues. On to the next.

Or the utter confusion at why the MLS player who ate me out for a solidly wonderful week and made it clear exactly how much of a “foodie” he was, would ever think JUST his penis was some kind of gift to my vagina (?). (Although, seriously…the work ethic? Commendable. Get yourself a people pleaser, ladies. Even if their stats say they’re 5’9” and there is no way they are over 5’7” because you’re 5’7” and they’re definitely shorter than you.) Sir, you have “husband” dick, but certainly not “casual and repetitive hook up” dick. Know your worth, bro. Show yourself some respect.

Insert that scene in “The Swan Princess” where Princess Odette asks Prince Derek what the fuck else was there regarding his attraction to her apart from her looks and why she should allow him to entertain her fancy.

I am not that dumb… there is absolutely no way I don’t receive an average of 8 orgasms a hook up and not end up falling in love with you, so for that reason, you gotta be out right now. No thank you.

That guy actually has made me revisit my claim that I don’t like men going down on me that much, though, because he was talented. Like “if I start dating someone, will you please teach them how to do that to me” type of talented. 

I would have a tiny bit more faith in men, except any guy who vents about emotional things then claims that they’re “emotionally unavailable” is not someone I am going to alter my vaginal pH for–at least not after I’ve already test driven them.) I will say, though, this man cracked my back and helped me stretch in the most wonderful yoga session in perhaps my entire life. There is no way I would ever allow someone like that to stick around unless I knew I would be safe for the inevitable attachment. Not happening.

It is rather intriguing just how many men in their 20’s are concerned that they’re infertile, though. Especially when their dream is to have a family with “as many children as she’ll let me have.” It’s not surprising they’re all emotionally incompetent. Fear clouds judgment. 

Or maybe it was escaping to the mountains and running away from my problems like the good little trail runner I am (with my avoidant attachment style), living my wildest dreams seeing Houndmouth (an Indie rock band) perform in Asheville (this is now the third time I’ve seen them), with The Orange Peel being the most classically perfect venue for them, accompanied and entertained by Venus, who snuggled me and made me feel loved in the most legitimately intimate way that was not sexual and was everything I needed.

No matter what it was, I think the bitch is finally back. 

I’m back on my bullshit. Snappin’ back to reality.

I rewatched Gossip Girl for the 14th time and am inspired by the maniacal plotting of Georgina, Blair, and Serena and once again have found my way. I think I just needed to funnel a little of that whirlwind grief and confusion into spite, so here we are. 

Ya know that other part from “The Swan Princess” where Derek and his tubby bestie keep excluding Princess Odette even though she’s been forced to do sleep away camp with him every summer for YEARS, about how this was NOT her idea of fun? Ya. I feel that. (Although, I think where the problem really lies though is that this IS my idea of fun and it probably should not be. Oops.)

Speaking of “what else is there” — updates. Hmm.

I got to help escort my wonderful best friend, Carolina, down the aisle. She entered to a beautifully haunting rendition of “I will follow you into the dark”. I have actually seen Death Cab for Cutie in Gainesville at this cool live band place called “The High Dive” (it’s the “Cat’s Cradle” for UF, for all my UNC people) so this magical surprise was a particularly splendid treat. 

I also spent the weekend around an entire room of her extended family–who I’ve now known, texted, emailed, kept up with, vacationed with, gone to 2 other weddings with, you name it, for over a decade. Let me just say that I personally really love the attention of everyone reminding me of what a smart, capable woman I am and how strikingly beautiful I remain, blossoming with every passing year, but I just wish it wasn’t tied to the assumption that I’m not happy or complete just because I didn’t bring a date for like, the 5th social event in recent years. I actually did plan to ask Venus, but then the venue was an old slave plantation and frankly, it just felt wrong. (Granted, in my research I also uncovered the realities of the wedding industry and history of land acquisition and property ownership in North Carolina which was, unnerving, to say the least. Though, it truly was a beautiful venue.) I talked it over with him and we weren’t overly concerned about him making it. Surgical rotations and all. It also was REALLY nice to have 100% of time and attention to devote to my best friend, who likely was only even alive to make it to that day because of a lot of interceptions and accompaniments courtesy of mwah, and not have to constantly make introductions or worry about whether he was comfortable being there almost entirely alone. He would have fit right in with the retired anesthesiologist, emergency surgery resident, NIH program director, and assortment of UNC alum there, though. I now understand why people insist on bringing a +1 to weddings, is all. Carolina is perhaps the only person who can dress me in a flowing pink gown with no complaints and I will help her stepmom, who is the epitome of a “Karen” AND conveniently named “Karen”, break it the fuck down on the dance floor much to the pleasurable delight of everyone in the vicinity.

Man, weddings are so much fun. 

Nothing like the threat of “til death do us part” to turn a gal on. 

The other incredible detail I want to mention is that her fiance, perhaps the only deserving man in this world, cried almost the ENTIRE rehearsal and day of the ceremony. We LOVE a progressive man who embraces and publicly displays feelings other than anger. We ESPECIALLY love men who are able to cry. Tens across the board. He truly was so damn happy to be in that position with her and know that she was committing to honoring their relationship for the rest of their lives, that I don’t doubt or worry about their marriage whatsoever. I also realized I actually have faith in the institution of it, so long as “partnership” is healthy, overflowing with love, and devoted to thinking the bad ass, intelligent woman involved (per this scenario) walks on air. I really cannot wait to see what kind of life they create with each other. 

Speaking of marriage and healthy relationships founded on communication, you know how in a wedding ceremony two people (I guess sometimes more if you’re Mormon?) clarify their intentions with each other and vocalize them? Let’s focus on that. 

Today’s theme and episode is thus going to cover “consent”. 

(11:25)

While I do plan to cover a much wider topic selection in reference to comprehensive sex ed, “Consent” gets its own, first, episode, because only 10 states in the USA currently require their sexual education curriculums for public school to involve “consent”. 

Then we send these children off to colleges (or 40% of them, at least)–perhaps the first time they’ve ever left home or lived in a different community–where, once again, they are expected to know and understand how to act and what is the “norm” without it potentially ever being formally established. Their actions, many of which are the topic of conversation in reference to men being worried that the things they didn’t ever know to consider, such as whether you SHOULD maybe not spike your fraternity’s jungle juice with low doses of xanax, might follow them through the rest of their life. So sad. At these colleges, or in these high school and middle schools, we expect children to KNOW how they should act without ever teaching or modeling how to do so healthily. We then have such extensive interstate travel, that when cultural amalgamation happens and there are very different, confusing, or new interactions they never even KNEW were possible, sexual or not, they react according to their previous education on the matter, which we know very well might be absolutely none.

Where only 10 states mandate “consent” to be taught, 37 require “abstinence” to be included, and only 18 require “birth control” to be covered to any extent. 

How and why, then, would we expect the children OR adults in this country to know and understand unanimously what is expected as far as sexual negotiations and relations are involved?

When the majority of Americans do not attend college, and their formal, public education stops at age 18, why would we ever even expect them to be able to know what to do and how to act in communities where time and time again, horrific acts are committed against unsuspecting, naive, or unaware humans, just for the perpetrator’s actions to be excused, downplayed, dismissed, or paid off? What kind of behavior and society are we actually modeling here? Certainly not a healthy, educated, or informed one. 

I know people tend to consider me “cynical” (which actually juxtaposes with my image in real life I kind of believe), but being “direct”, “realistic”, and “pragmatic” shouldn’t make it seem like I’m just bitching about things. Which, it kinda ends up turning into because there is a huge gap in our societal function, the progress made within education and science realms, and then the average insight or awareness to those considerations that the average human actually has.

Herodotus is quoted as saying “the worst pain a man can suffer is to have insight into much and power over nothing” yet we wonder why intellectualism, which is also a product of access to education (& typically wealth) is attributed with higher rates of mental illness within the same demographics that can afford, have the time to visit, and have access to medical staff of quality.

For the majority of people, particularly with our current wealth inequality, worker’s rights norms, and societal reverance of the glory resulting from trauma (warfare), it IS “bitching” because there isn’t enough time to care about the things that aren’t directly impacting us when there isn’t even enough time to care, learn, or understand one’s own health, life, or stress. But isn’t that the entire point of “administration”? Of “management”? Of “government”? To consider, prepare for, and facilitate societal cohesion, community, by examining all topics from each level of interaction so that they run smoother, more efficiently, healthier?

I’m a problem solver. Society has become my rubik’s cube. 

I’ve mentally grappled with this topic a lot. For those of you who are first time listeners, I myself was (in hindsight) sexually coerced for years within a physically and emotionally abusive relationship before age 18, sexually assaulted in numerous scenarios between ages 18-25, raped in my sleep by an ex boyfriend who was revealed to have entire group chat messages from his “best” friends inquiring about their ability to “service” me AT HIS PERMISSION while they were in my college town, and have been on/off committed to someone for almost a decade who I knew before, during, and after a national collegiate sexual consent scandal which impacted his athletic ability, his academic ability, and his father’s career. and knowing the “norm” for casual drug and alcohol abuse, as well as disordered eating amongst wrestlers and the intimacy of the way they naturally fuck, which is intensely physically relevant to their sport, I was not surprised in the slightest that some girl he had just met, at a party, had a bad experience. I personally liked his style, but I had a very different baseline I was coming from, meaning an actual “Joker” style psychopath. All I’m saying is, should my high school boyfriend one day make the news for brewing meth at home and/or murdering whoever his poor wife is, I will be like, “Yup, that tracks.” 

In fact, it’s happened so often that I was forced to confront whether it was my “fault” in some way. Whether “everything happens for a reason” and I somehow deserved to be treated and disrespected and manipulated so much. Why I had allowed myself to believe these people were exempting me from the way they treated others, even if they did act differently, for a time, until my behavior no longer benefitted them. I had to ask myself why I allowed this behavior in my life and the answer to that was I didn’t know how to prevent it. It seemed, no matter what, that man divulged into that mode eventually. That at some point, they all caved to their weaknesses and became someone who unforgivably mistreated me and frankly, no longer deserved access to me (if they ever did to begin with…)

I’ve realized as of late that my view on humanity is scary because the realization that every human being is capable of the entire spectrum of human behavior is terrifying.

I’ve had to consider how to protect myself and under what stimuli I would be provoked to do certain things.

When it would be safe too.

When I’d have the least repercussions. 

…which is exactly the world we’ve created with no or feared accountability for crimes against humanity or the earth, and it’s definitely the world we’ve created in regards to sex crimes. When our prison system is so corrupt it operates as caged shuffling of legal, formal human trafficking, with no intentions or prioritizations of reform, just removal, from society, punishment isn’t exactly the answer, either. It ultimately won’t give you the result you seek.

Life is really about choices, and I assume that it’s more normal to make the choices that help the most and hurt the least than to make the choice that benefits you the most.

I can always answer for the choices I make.

So what do you do when the choice isn’t yours? 

Maeve Wiley (Emma Mackey) in Netflix’s Sex Education: Season 3, goes on a rant about how “abstinence only” education is proven to not work. It is irresponsible and only aligns sexual behavior, a common, normal, healthy human function, with shame. Women do not need to have politically irresponsible government involvement in their bodily autonomy, shame, or guilt over any decision regarding their body at any point nor do they need to be shamed for their sexual desires, nor do they need to be the only person held liable for the handling of the product of a combination of sexual desires. Teaching a healthy, comprehensive view on sexuality and human behavior in general (psychology?! In the USA?! Marxists!) teaches humans how to healthily interact with each other, which is the purpose of communities to begin with. Why else would and should we entrust to live within them and their legislative bounds? “Community” was supposed to be about a group of people, however diverse, who come together to facilitate cohesion and advancement–be it intellectual, technological, whatever. Why then do we lack SUCH progressive reform and then even encourage or facilitate irresponsible political discussions regarding these topics, based largely on protecting abusers and denying the accounts of victims, and still refuse to acknowledge that our public education on these situations is incredibly subjective, misinformed, or educated almost entirely from one’s individual sphere of influence versus a holistic, unbiased perspective. While we’re on the topic, every single person ever should watch Season 3 of “Sex Education”. They should definitely watch EVERY season, but season 3 covered such an incredibly diverse, impactful discussion around sexuality, growth, and development that it must feel incredible to portray any role within that production. It truly must feel like you’re making an incredible difference as an entertainer to bring those stories and characters to life. 

“The Body Keeps the Score” discusses the medical intervention of the “arts”–be it music, painting, film, theatre, and so on, as a therapeutic tool to coping with and exploring past trauma safely. Yet we then undermine the societal use of entertainment to facilitate an escape from reality. We downplay the importance of art, the historical context of artists, the medical use of art to parallel neurological developments or decline (highly recommend “The Man Who Mistook his Wife for a Hat”), we mock and shame diversity or deviations from “the norm” when those deviations are what has provided innovation creatively across every field or industry ever in the history of our societal and human development. 

Entertainment like “Big Little Lies” (HBO) and “The Handmaid’s Tale” (Hulu) give me the justice that I so frequently, and will never, get. It puts perspectives that I once witnessed in an out-of-body or questionably dissociative episode, focusing on some veiled memory of happiness not unlike Harry Potter casting the Patronus charm, into their reality. I’m not “living in the past” when these memories flash in. They’re just memories, after all. Data to be recalled, reassessed, and compartmentalized as new ones merge and new experiences are permitted to occur. Discussions and arguments to be walked through, theorized, reimagined. 

Whereas people will avoid direct news headlines–never trusting the “sensationalization” of the current media, they will consume purposefully dramatized stories which are similar, happily, so long as they are able to say it was just “fiction”.

With the current state of public education, sadly, it almost makes it THAT much more important for our celebrity culture, be it sporting, film, music, to openly discuss the realities of their lives and the events which personally impacted them.

Or for them to portray imaginary scenarios and roles that allow for those discussions to take place.

Accepting a lack of education, particularly rhetoric around “consent” as the norm is standard. Look at those MLS players. I know head injuries are common in soccer especially, but there shouldn’t be this huge divide and lack of critical thinking skills where they genuinely think tricking women or inherently only believing assumptions that benefit you, is a respectable trait. There is a reason, after all, for why “Sex Education” was set in the UK and NOT the USA. However, it is not something we should propagate. 

Cady Heron (Lindsay Lohan) once narrated, “when you get bit by a snake, you have to suck out all the poison, that’s what I had to do, suck all the poison out of my life.”

And that’s what our societies need to do.

We need to discuss why there is so much unaddressed pain.

Why “trauma” has been accepted as the norm. Standard procedure.

And then why we are deluded into thinking that humans are “so advanced”.

Why do humans even possibly deviate from being any other mammal?

Why do we consider ourselves so “intellectual” with a very, very narrow view on what constitutes “intelligence”?

We cannot discuss these things if we cannot acknowledge the validity of them. If we cannot speak on them. 

Thus, I think a main part of our conversation should target the difference in “consent” with “informed consent”. 

Informed Consent (24:04)

A topic relevant to my medical background, as it is shoved down our throats in regards to ethics complications for scientific research studies, though only those involving human subjects. Yet, never one I have seen discussed in reference to any other concept. The main idea behind this is that it is incredibly unethical to encourage or coerce a human being into partaking in any kind of research in any way without their full understanding and consent.

If we can legally differentiate, teach, and stress the importance of the difference between “informed consent” and “consent” in regards to medical complications, why can we not do so for sexual encounters. 

Which is certainly a bit subjective, particularly given that in some states this still means exploiting the opportunity of general anesthesia at teaching hospitals for unknown, unnecessary, and unrelated procedures or examinations, particularly those performed on women.

Something that needs to be highlighted, especially in regards to sexuality, is whether it is actually “consent” if no other realistic or “Safe” alternatives seem to exist.

Does the person actually feel, understand, and know that they are capable of saying “no”?

Is there an imbalance of power being exploited?

Do they actually understand what they’re agreeing to do or are you manipulating the variables for your own selfish gain?

A show like “House”, which is likely the main reason I even began studying infectious diseases, as I’d spend my 3 all nighters a week in undergrad binge watching season after season while frantically studying for my biochem exams, listening to it in the background, cover this topic intermittently. Dr. Eric Forman (Omar Epps), mentions in an episode where he is discussing potential treatment options for someone’s dying baby that, in truth he MAY be able to explain to the parents exactly what is going on but there will never be enough information, given their background and education level, for them to ultimately understand it. Thus, the parents ultimately had to trust in and divert to the doctor’s authority. If doctors are being paid to participate in clinical trials, if drug reps are allowed to travel to them and sell recently patented or experimental medication, if intense, unnecessary surgical considerations can be made with no necessity or access to resources which emphasize or consider the mental process behind these decisions, how can we possibly call that “informed consent”? If the rush of a potentially impending death is involved, if familial and societal pressure encourages you to “fight tooth and nail” against your own body, battle your own immune system, even when holistic, palliative care may increase and extend your quality and quantity of life by over 30% in certain cases, yet choosing that option is seen as “giving up” instead of as “a completely viable and realistic choice to make depending on what is important to YOU”, how can we possibly educate people enough to understand what “consent” actually means? I lost faith in a lot of that ability when I found it hard to believe the patients at MD Anderson, the “worst of the worst”, the most advanced stages, of head and neck or thoracic cancer would have agreed to those treatment options and often radical, experimental procedures, if they had actually understood what they were choosing. In a culture afraid to discuss the realities of life, lest it be too “traumatic” or “triggering”, it simply did not seem right. The alternative was sure death, but what kind of experimentation goes too far? With the necessary trust and imbalance of power the doctor (a heroic chance, a last hope, the domme and controller of power) inevitably has, could there ever possibly be enough knowledge of the submissive, the patient’s, boundaries, norm, and mindset in just the brief encounters of scheduled patient visits? Thus, like Dr. Foreman exasperatingly stated, there’s no amount of research or time that can provide an unbiased perspective, and the importance of ethics, ultimately, rests in the hands of those in power. 

Informed consent in sexual situations simply doesn’t seem that different.

But if only 10 states mandate “consent” to be taught, how do we expect people to understand it other than as a result of experiencing testing the boundaries of it?

Over 80% of women are sexually harassed, often regularly, enough to resign them into submission, because how else would they ever get anything done, especially working with men? Then they’re the “bitch” when they aren’t inherently flattered by the attention. Why is it that as adults, and even as children, we have these discussions as a response, not typically as a preventative measure? They’re framed and colloquially referenced, associated with shame and scandal, public ridicule or inquiry, or with a “one size fits all” approach that encourages judgment, not resolution.

Why is it that conversations always applaud “survivors”, “victims”, “defendants”, humans, forced to show extraordinary resilience and then admired for it. The person responding to unwanted contact, attention, touch, harassment, violations to their body is judged publicly while those who do the acts are protected behind dismissals of “times of war”, “seduction”, “witchcraft”, “lust”, “satan”, the hope for redemption and an afterlife, ultimately free from accountability towards those who deserve it the most. And then we ridicule the way they responded. How they healed. Their version of peace. We ask them to negotiate, to beg for, to request, for it to have mattered. For speaking up to have made a difference. For someone to understand. 

How serious are we even stressing sexual violence to be when the penalties for aborting a product of rape may be stronger than those for the rapist? Abstinence only education, emphasized by our conservative religious foundation, because any country that pledges ANY allegiance to reference ANY gods certainly does NOT have separation of church and state, does not work. Unsurprisingly, given the religious tradition of “ask[ing] for forgiveness, never permission” as outlined by Halsey in her new album’s “The Tradition”. It is frankly embarrassing, horrifying, and inept that so many intelligent humans even have to spend their lives devoting valuable time and research into this area of politics and law, instead of progressively improving our society on a global scale.

What the fuck kind of Salem Witch Trials have we gotten ourselves into?

So, with our rampant drinking culture, how DO we ensure consent is disclosed?

In How to Get Away with Murder, Bonnie’s character alludes to it in one scene, where she says, “I may be drunk but I’m a grown woman who knows what I want.” Men in fraternities, on college sports teams, on professional sports teams all over the country are faced with a similar confusion. Does “hooking up” mean that you need someone to sign a consent form, now? Should people carry breathalyzers? How do you place responsibility on just the men in these scenarios, particularly if both parties are drunk? It’s not an easy answer, and I know a lot of men, in particular, are scared of the reality that they could, have been, or potentially will be accused of rape if they misread scenarios and misinterpret it. Or that these actions will follow them for years and when they run for public office, women will finally come forward because they feel a responsibility to. Even if it “pulls the rug out from under them” and these were encounters that they never second guessed.

Look at the Promising Young Woman movie. That tracks.

Then we face the conundrum of the “norm” for college era fraternity and house parties, as well as any bar on an exceptionally busy night. Crammed wall-to-wall, if occupying the dance floor, you will be accustomed to men just slithering in from directly behind you and pulling your hips onto them–in the hopes that you won’t be sober enough to turn around and realize you’re gyrating on their cock despite not being able to identify them at all.

I didn’t think Calum Scott had to actually specify it was “okay” to dance on my own for people to get that I’m perfectly content with doing so, but here we are.

And yet…there I was in high school, grinding on boys I had never talked to before, at a school dance, sober as can be, thriving in the attention and not understanding why I shouldn’t have been impressed. If I close my eyes I can still feel the sweat drip off Spencer Bowling’s jaw onto my cheek. Gross.

Which reminds me, I actually LOVE dancing, always have. Not “good” at it whatsoever but I clearly have fun.

First guy I ever danced with was my first kiss at overnight soccer camp. After wooing him in a short denim skirt to Shakira’s “Hips Don’t Lie”, he was smitten. My own teenage rendition of Bridget (Blake Lively) in “The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants”. Middle school version.

You know how when you were younger, unless something tragically awful happened to you, there was so much excitement and build up into your “firsts”. Typically, your entire friend group had already coordinated with your would-be partner’s entire friend group and you’d strategically plot how you were going to sneak around to do x, y, and z. Maybe you were a late bloomer and those moments were delayed, compounded with renewed anxiety over living up to someone else’s imaginary standards for what your experience level should be. Maybe you were so busy you never had the time to really worry about it. Maybe you’re still waiting. 

Those moments might happen long before you’re prepared for them.

As humans grow, they explore their bodies. They learn how certain things feel, what noises they can make, the way they can move and which motions feel best–which changes, with age. We don’t like to, and shouldn’t, sexualize or shame children or the human body, but it’s the reality of humanity.

“Sex” is ultimately just a description of biomechanics meant to coordinate a chemical, physical, and emotional response.

If you keep them naive, they just don’t understand until much later what they were actually doing.

You can speak practically and directly to children (and adults) so they actually understand things. 

Take one of my very first sexual experience, which can only be described as scissoring my best friend in maybe 4th grade to “My Big Fat Greek Wedding”.

Did we know what it was? Absolutely not.

Did it feel great? Yup. I am never going back to my hometown. 

Wouldn’t have a very heterosexual, basic version of sex ed for another 1-2 years. Wouldn’t know that we were getting each other off as children until college like an entire decade later.

This is the reality of growing as a human. You’re not going to know or be prepared for every situation that you’re placed in. If you’re lucky, you will be. You’ll have knowledge ahead of time that allows you to make as clear of a decision as you can. You’ll recall training, discussions, warnings, identify signs, and learn at an “appropriate” pace. 

But then you’ll have the grey areas, taking up far more space than black-and-white Brock Turner style cases.

One of the main reasons sexual violence cases rarely go to trial is a lack of evidence. Whether it’s that the victim was unaware what was done to them was a crime, and thus unable to preserve any indication that they had been violated. (Another VERY firm reason we should federally mandate comprehensive sexual education.) (I showered after I was assaulted in TOPO– Just sat in the shower, fully clothed, crying and needing to scrub every single cell on my body.)

Whether they even felt like they had a choice to make, why they were making the choices they were making and how manipulated they were. 

“Consent” might not actually be clear.

It’s certainly, horrifyingly objectively, not the norm in the USA and not something we actually discuss, so why would it be. Which is actually something we need to start framing differently within our societies, in general–perspective is skewed by one’s mind, experiences, perception, and knowledge. In a culture so dependent on escaping reality and accountability, how do we re-establish and negotiate to “healthy communication” as the norm without people being weary of the perceived liability, PR nightmare, and limited knowledge of how well they actually know other human beings, such that they’ve come to view “communication” as “confrontation”?

I was talking to a UNC pal in Atlanta over transgender rights and mentioned how ridiculous it was that cis het men were so homophobic that they felt entitled to someone sharing medically intimate information with them, to the point where they often feel sexually betrayed and swindled to the point of murder when the “truth” may be revealed, when they would never expect a cis het woman to disclose her full medical or physical surgical history prior to sex. They’ll also continue to raw dog them without any disclosure or discussion on sexual health testing. Ya’ll know the issue you have in that scenario is your version of “consent”, right? Because you didn’t actually UNDERSTAND what you were getting into?

Some of ya’ll don’t know anything about vaccinations, had your science teachers passing back your tests face down, yet you want to “do your own research” on a pandemic AND you think you should or can know and pass judgment on someone else’s private medical history which you feel betrayed by when it doesn’t live up to your imagined reality and there was no communication you felt you were owed? Hmm…

Let’s consider some wider implications of where consent can be tricky.

Maybe they’re talking coherently, but have medication interacting with alcohol. Several of my friends have different chronic medications they take which may interact with alcohol in different ways. Part of my enjoyment and lack of necessity to be black out drunk ever, thus saving me from some of the addiction issues plaguing our general population, has always been being able to fill them in on the details the next day and make sure they got home safely. True soldier mentality. Always protecting & serving.

Maybe they are prone to mental or physical health episodes such as narcolepsy, epilepsy, sleep walking, or so forth and there is no way or expectation of disclosing the entity of those factors beforehand. Having it “well managed” may mean you rarely, if ever, have incidents. Neurologically, you may not have control or be able to ensure your own safety, thus reliant on trusting those around you. What if you pass out unexpectedly, or have a medical emergency, and someone tries to cover it up, worried about their own liability more so than your safety? What if they don’t call 911 and you die?

Maybe they are seeking comfort, not attention, but being misused is better than being ignored and left out because the silence of absence is somehow louder than the words of abuse.

Maybe they are just being human, engaging in friendly communication with a stranger, and not leading you on with some devious plot like you’re Penn Badgley in Netflix’s “You”. 

It is NOT “unsexy” to clarify consent. I think it is so damn hot for men to ask if you’re okay with something before doing it. I might roll my eyes and smirk a little bit, but there’s definitely a tactful way to do it. (Side note: I recently took a comprehensive BDSM test and it turns out there is a kink for being a “brat” and it really, REALLY makes a lot of sense.)

For instance, that friend from the Atlanta United asked me if I was okay with him opening my car door for me when he drove me home after our mutual friend’s soccer game. He didn’t want to “offend me or imply that I couldn’t do it myself–he just WANTED to do it for me.” Which is exactly why he ended up giving me like 8 orgasms in a row. He also cooked me dinner and afterwards texted me on how he was “surprised” that I gave him 3 hugs. (Can I just take a quick second to point out that 3 hugs for a warm, freshly cooked meal is a great exchange rate. Excellent bartering skills. Very pleased with myself on that one. Also pleased that he noticed lmao.) Maybe it’s because he rescued a dog from a shelter, thus having a soft spot for the abused and neglected–though, I should’ve foreseen the abandonment issues because he doesn’t really train his dog or try to improve certain behaviors and he leaves it all the time. He was very sensual with his physical interaction as well, and I think it’s rather amusing and fitting that Tyrion and Jon Snow are his favorite characters from Game of Thrones. Like here we have Tyrion, drinking problem, sex addiction, not particularly beautiful but a connoisseur of women. Jon Snow, ditched by his father, great at giving head, ultimately the woman of his dream’s demise. Or how he has a wolf tattoo. (Literally every guy who has ever been into me has a fascination for wolves or lions, it’s actually getting to be annoying because most of them don’t actually know anything about either one–they just think they’re “cool” or “majestic”.) I just wish men in their 20’s weren’t so predictably disappointing.

On the plus side, it was REALLY fun to have a man look up at me and sheepishly ask if I was analyzing them. The answer is always, yes. 

All the considerations of “consent”, “marriage”, and “boundaries” recently made me pretty positive that I never want to live with someone ever again. I sat there and thought about the possibility of always having someone in my bed, or using my shower, or trying to snuggle when I just don’t want anyone to touch me and it grossed me out thinking about how one day I might have to VOLUNTARILY LIVE WITH A BOY. 

When I think of the reasons it would be beneficial to live with someone, I consider the incidents of an intruder, accidentally choking, having a heart attack, noticing a decline in health in any way or measuring the moles on my back for changes in size, shape, or color, having a partner to help me out if and when depressive episodes, typically the result of compounded situational grief, strike, calling 911 for me in the case of an emergency. Practical, logical ways to justify needing someone that have seemingly taken precedence over “love”.

My favorite moment in ALL of these interactions has been when I don’t have to personally care about these men. I get to watch them. Hang out with them. Learn their mannerisms. Note the way they respond to social cues. Watch them second guess themselves as insecurity flashes across their eyes. That brief fear. Intimidation. 

I’ve also been researching the intricacies of BDSM culture because Atlanta has a very sex positive city life, including some sex clubs interestingly enough, and as intrigued as I may be with it, I sit there and consider how much “communication” and “vocalizing boundaries” are stressed and I’m just not sure men are able to comprehend my expectations any more. I lack the faith for it. Just seems like right now it would be a huge waste of my time. Maybe in like twenty years, I’ll be the “Samantha” from “Sex and the City”, but for now I’m just gonna tap out and sit myself on the bench, much like the soccer player I threw a bone to. 

Remember how Serena Van der Woodsen (Blake Lively) met Dan Humphrey (Penn Badgley) in HBO’s OG “Gossip Girl” and he’s like, “would you really go out with a guy you don’t know” only to be retorted by Serena, “you can’t be worse than the guys I do know” meaning sexually aggressive Chuck, handsy, drug addicted, poker cheat Carter Baison, or the guy who tried to secretly film her with Georgina Sparks (Michelle Trachtenberg) in a coercive hotel threesome?

You know, the guy who plotted with Georgina to get her into the room, supply her with drugs, and ignore her clear emotional needs under a “good vibes only” “party the pain away” mentality that rarely benefits anyone? Little did we know what the women in the US were in store for. In Serena’s case, how she blamed herself for the death of a guy who seized after consuming his own drugs, despite that same guy filming her without her consent and joking around about how she’s “always up for anything” with her supposed “best friend”?

The amount of misplaced empathy combined with naivety was something I had always related to in Blake’s character.

Confused as to how and why people she knew, her friends, would purposefully use and mistreat her was a regular storyline.

Threesomes Galore (44:44)

I’ve mentioned how I, much like Serena, had a threesome…at age 15. Didn’t drink. Didn’t smoke. But in true, Lonely Island fashion, I just had sex. 

The age of consent in Maryland is 16. 

Both of the guys involved were 18. 

I had just finished my freshman year and they had graduated high school already. One of them, who I had actually secretly hooked up with before earlier that summer, texted me to coordinate me fucking him while sharing a room with this other really hot guy who was one of the “coolest” seniors (to my fellow freshmen girls, at least, which probably means he was a loser). When I got to the room, having snuck out while sharing with my mom and brother, there was a third guy, unbeknownst to me, present and aware of the situation (I at least felt comfortable being like, “don’t fucking touch me, but I guess you can watch?”) and a 4th guy, asleep for the duration of the event. Pretty fucked up in hindsight, with how those guys were basically misrepresenting the situation to get me there–leaving out some key details and factors that would skew the already fucked up power imbalance. I felt backed into a corner, for sure, but saying “no” and the possibility of something being mentioned to my brother was not going to happen. It definitely wasn’t an option that I felt I even had. 

Sidetracking for a moment to Atlanta, that soccer player was figuring out postgaming plans a few weeks back, and didn’t communicate the scenario appropriately with me, so when he unexpectedly showed up with his brother, it almost triggered a recall back to that night when I was 15. I felt disrespected, but couldn’t ascertain why immediately. At least now, at 28, I am finally comfortable questioning the situations I’m in enough to make my concern clear and protect my safety. It’s pretty frustrating, particularly since I’m honestly not sure it’s even possible for me to trust men sexually at this point, and it’s exasperating having to explain why your anxiety spikes randomly. It’s just exhausting, honestly. Pointless, arguably. 

And, again, any guy who does these things or coerces these situations, plotting them out ahead of time, only operating under assumptions that benefit you the best, who frames it as “game”, is a sexual predator which, contrary to this bullshit “alpha” culture of toxic masculinity, is NOT a flex. If you have to lie, or misrepresent the situation, that is not “game”, it is “deceit”.
(UNLESS you’re Tom Brady and the Patriots see this is what happens when we set that example…)

If you never have women you’ve been with who respect you still, that’s a BIG red flag at this point. That’s what we get when these men grow up in Texas, go to boarding school in Florida, and only get two years of a college education before being paraded around as if they’re essential to society. What else would we expect. 

Back to my threesome in adolescence–there is no statue of limitation in Maryland for sex crimes. But, I also know how little sex education we received and the way our community framed sexual endeavors, so I can’t and don’t “fault” those boys when I was 15. Even if they were somehow old enough to get themselves into potentially hundreds of thousands of dollars of debt for an education or mature enough to sign up to go to war, I don’t think there’s any way for them to have ever even known the extent of what led me to that circumstance. 

Sometimes, I wonder if they try to drown out those memories, fearful that they’ll one day come to light if they reach a fair amount of public success and admiration. 

Do I still struggle with some of the situations I went through, the decisions I made? Yes. Not with the exact acts, whatsoever, but because I was pushed into those situations as a response to trauma or lack of support.

The person that I turned to for attention in my weak moments ended up overdosing, taking his own dose of “accidental” death, last August amidst the coronavirus pandemic, because he turned to the drugs in shows like “Euphoria”. If a little bit of sexual exploits is how I handled that time in my life, I’m okay with that. Impressed, even.

DARE really worked, cause I literally didn’t smoke weed for like, 7 years after I fucked 2 of the hottest seniors and state champion baseball players as a freshman.

I wish I’d had songs like Megan Thee Stallion’s “Savage” back then. 

I try not to have regrets over things I have no control over or can’t change–particularly when those choices have made me into someone that I’m incredibly proud of. Someone that, in truth, I was always incredibly proud of–even when I was using my spare time to do those things. But if I had access to therapy, comprehensive sexual education, or sports teams that were actually a family and not just more competition– I likely would not have ever even wanted to be near most of those guys in the first place. The attention they, and pretty much any other guy I was invested in (except maybe this one kid, Thomas, who set me onto wrestlers from an early age), would have been insignificant and uninteresting. A pattern of predictable human behavior. Boring.

My parents had forced me to go to one of my brother’s baseball tournaments, because they were worried about the trouble I’d get in if they left me home alone, so I was determined to make them rue that decision out of ~*~spite!*~. And those guys were all for taking advantage of the naive, rebellious girl whose dad threatened her constantly should she bring dishonor on their family, screaming at her for being a whore months beforehand, and they, along with myself, were never taught to consider my mental state or anything apart from what they could acquire and how they could use me.

Same story as the younger kid from the team who once drove me to his house and I begrudgingly gave fellatio too, even though I had long lost my interest in him, because what other alternative did I have?

How about the kid I fucked so I could stay at his house the night I ran away? He heard “run away”, “domestic violence”, and mentally went, “this sounds like a great opportunity to lose my virginity!”.

…See, this is why I brag about collecting V cards like I’m playing poker. 

My guidance counselor, the coach, four years later would be photographed in the paper with me for weeks on end due to my academic achievements. At one point, I was photographed in the tri-county paper at least once a week for 3 months–be it academia, athleticism, or a woman of the arts. But those stories of success only focused on a very narrow set of details or events.

It simply doesn’t feel like “success” if I can’t be myself, authentically.

What have I worked so hard to get through, or move past, or learn from, if I still have people telling me how they would prefer for me to speak on them? When I have family who tell me it is too difficult to read my blog, all the while never considering the fact that I had to live it. That I didn’t have the choice to exit the window. To dissociate and play on my phone. 

Mind you, I didn’t “party” (aka drink or do drugs) and had no interest in it. They just viewed my sexual promiscuity as a “problem” (which it certainly was HYPERSEXUAL, to be fair, but, again, if I had porn and a vibrator and masturbation wasn’t more taboo than sex, I doubt I would’ve had any interest in the feeble cocks of high school boys over a fantasy Christian Grey and some silicone.) 

Sexuality was framed as so “taboo” just for me, as a teenage girl, but not for my brother, who had an entire walk-in closet with cut out photos from the Playboy magazines he was given, by my dad, glued to the walls, over “normal human behavior that should be done with awareness and education”. If and when I have children, the human body will not be taboo and neither will consensual human behavior. I never had a chance, until literally nearly a decade later and advanced education, to reconsider how it was framed for me or how negatively impacted by slut shaming I was.

On a semi-related note–how did they expect Christina Aguilera, Britney Spears, Jessica Simpson, Megan Fox to only turn the men on?
Or those Victoria’s Secret Fashion Shows?
Those girls were SO hot. LMFAO.
But they think weed is turning people gay?

When considering “consent”, the importance of “human development” matters. We consider puberty, reproductive health, sexual health, mental development, age, all varying factors to consider when discussing or explaining any kind of sexual interaction. 

Childhood Really is the Money Shot… (53:27)

In addition to this lovely psychoanalysis of my own experiences, I’ve done a LOT of babysitting and childcare. Which, because we currently do not mandate comprehensive sexual education on the grounds of “preserving childhood innocence”, is a conversation to have.

I’ve sat for SO many families–a family with 3 boys, 2 boys, a boy and a girl, foster kids, overseas, overnight, six children, a single child, 2 boys and a girl, and then teaching 3 classes of 20 or more 11-12 year olds. Acting like sex doesn’t exist doesn’t set good boundaries. Kids, as with humans of all ages, are growing and exploring the world changing around them, beginning with themselves and their own bodies. Learning as things change, evolving communication, trying novel experiences.

Kids also pick up things from the interactions in their lives–whether it’s from adults, siblings, parents, relatives, visitors, strangers, whatever. Which means there are going to be questions you have to answer or behavior you have to redirect or explain.

Then when you do have these moments to address behavior, whether it’s innocent or maliciously intended is dependent on how much the child could even possibly understand their own thought process, let alone another’s. Whether they have conflicting stimuli, the ability to question and communicate and feel safe enough to do so, what their version of “normal” is, what kind of authority figures they admire, respect, or trust–if any. For some of these incidents, children might not even have the knowledge to explain what was “done” to them or what they did to someone else for YEARS. Their boundaries may have been ignored yet then they’re still expected to respect or understand others. And that reality of what it means to “parent”, to be responsible for another human being’s growth, might be terrifying.

We have pretty horrible responses to deviations from “perfect” with childhood behavior as well. We blame the children for responding less than ideally to stimuli they aren’t expected to know how to respond to. Which is just weird, because if you’ve ever watched the development of other species, you’ll understand just how much “growth” encompasses. As a parent, I’m sure it’s terrifying to realize that you can’t control everything. You won’t always be there with your child. You gain insight into behavior, responses, emotion through both observation, education, and performance your entire lives. These are complicated topics because “reality” is much different from “ideal” and you simply can’t control all of the conditions. 

Sometimes, those incidental occasions are more “awkward” than “malicious”. Much like how my soccer team bestie and I unknowingly scissored, recreating the wedding events on the movie we watched, it didn’t mean anything–we were just “playing”. 

One time, I had to let a parent know that I had to covertly stop her 7 year old son from inserting a stick into his 4 year old sister’s “pocket” (her vagina) on the playground. 

**Some of you may be horrified but this kid was CONVINCED that he had found like, a secret hiding spot, like this is HER advantage and how she can be helpful.**

That same son, who I watched grow over the span of several years, had already gone through a phase where he realized rubbing his groin around on the couch cushions or random babysitter’s leg felt good enough to sit there and replicate without thought. Figuring out how to communicate that one without implementing shame took some tact. Thank goodness for educated parents who are cool enough to smoke weed and have a good sense of humor. 

I never had any misconceptions about what children would happen upon–try as you may to prevent it.

When I was in fourth grade, I googled “Arabian horses”, which is the breed common in the movie Hidalgo, for a horseland.com thing, and I was FLOODED with EXTREMELY well endowed arabian royalty porn, back before google filtered their searches. I wouldn’t have an official school education on the matter for another 1-2 years, but later on a kid will also have sent me the link to bigdicks.com and asked if I wanted to “cybersext” via AIM. And to think, I used to sneak off to kiss him at Destination Imagination and he would later go on to be one of my highschool archnemeses.

Why do we act like this is so taboo to discuss when not doing so definitely affects the health and wellness of our community? 

I saw a meme the other day that said “mental illness is becoming less stigmatized as we all become mentally unwell” and it’s true.

We’re taking baby steps to route our society, sure, but without legislative framework, resources, and templates for communities to rely on to set the example, or at least establish a bare minimum, we ultimately rely on “charity”, on begging for the importance of community to be emphasized, dependent on the amused generosity of our elite. We have to spend significant amounts of time to make ourselves vulnerable and raise the importance of issues instead of having societal resources in place to acknowledge the uncertainty of life and the ever impending doom of chaos just so we can respond accordingly and remove ourselves from danger. Even then we have to devote time, money, and resources towards lobbying for informed, educated legislation regarding our bodily autonomy. 

In the middle school I taught at, a child pornography video went around our student body of a girl using a hairbrush as a dildo. What you don’t just have there is a viral video, oh no. You have a police investigation, parents called in, other students being questioned, an entire NCIS / SWAT team, and more, simply because a horny adolescent was provoked by another horny adolescent into using modern technology for today’s version of romance. 

On a separate occasion, I had to consult the guidance counselor on how to handle a 12 year old who told a group of boys who weren’t my students, but were friends of my gossiping 6th graders, that she was going to sit on their faces. 

When I was in middle school, my best friend who kept her pony up the street from me, used to tell me the things her older brother would say about sex. Her parents were the type to have sex swings and furniture in their room, which looks remarkably similar to a lot of my old gymnastics equipment (like the cheeseblocks), so you can imagine these conversations looking like the horse girl version of some scene from “What’s Eating Gilbert Grape” or “Bridge to Terabithia”. Curiosity at the observed noises emitted by the women he dated. Remarking how weird it was that so many girls were willing to sleep over and fuck him, because he wasn’t very smart, though he DID play the guitar and Taylor Swift was getting REALLY big around this time. Think “Billy” from “Stranger Things” Season 2 (but less “mean” and more “dumb”). My other best friend used to write fan fic about herself with MY boyfriends and I thought it was absolutely hilarious. I never even made out with a guy until I graduated from 8th grade, but I certainly KNEW about these mysterious behaviors.

I was at a sleepover in 7th grade when the mom of the girl whose house I was at had to send me home so she could address the other two girls for sending pictures of every different body part to 3-4 boys the night before (before I got there) and having the men rank who was “better”. Those same girls had taught their younger, male cousin, who was in 4th or 5th grade, to make out, so that he’d “know what to do” (which, can you imagine if the roles were reversed and an older male cousin had thought that was the norm?). Meanwhile whenever I had sleepovers, I was making cheesy home movies for youtube or learning all the Hannah Montana lyrics with coordinating dance moves.

Maybe if I was actually allowed to watch or have access to media like Gossip Girl or Euphoria at the time, instead of having to sneak access to the American Pie DVDs hidden in my brother’s “man cave” (which is lowkey also why I cringe when I try to watch Schitt’s Creek, because I think my body associates the dad with being on edge and listening for my parent’s to open the basement door), I would’ve been less inclined to have those experiences for myself and could’ve instead just cried my lonely self to sleep watching and learning from HBO or Netflix, instead of accepting such shitty forms of attention. Kinda like how the Spanish don’t stigmatize alcohol and are WAY less likely to abuse it, culturally, that can also be applied to sexuality.

Again, my parents didn’t even grant me access to birth control, thinking that would somehow be preventative, until the abusive boyfriend I’d meet at the end of this summer and go on to date for over 3 years, who they actually felt was a relief since he was so controlling that it stopped my “sexuality” issue, came into the picture…Almost a whole year of hoping I wouldn’t accidentally get pregnant via one of these secret trysts (of which, there were MANY). I will admit, though, I definitely went from 0-60 in 3.5 so I was great at hiding it to the extent that I needed to in order to get what I want. (A recurring theme with me, so it appears.)

Maybe removing the stigma with behavior and framing it realistically and comprehensively would actually be healthier for everyone. Maybe me sharing this will help future and current parents, and adolescents who may happen upon it themselves, to consider the larger implications around why they want to engage in these behaviors and how we can prevent them from being so emotionally devastating–be it at the time of occurrence or decades later. 

As an aside, it will never not be completely hilariously tragic to me that people think Euphoria is “unrealistic”. That show is one of THE MOST REALISTIC demonstrations of my hometown you could imagine. Right down to the opioid crisis. You can listen to the podcast episode featuring my friend Amanda, one of my first guests, if you want to hear about her thinking she was taking ecstasy and instead having meth bombs, for more insight. If you think these situations–the drugs, the emotions, the sexual interactions, aren’t actually applicable to high school situations, you are naive… or maybe you just didn’t go to public school.

Why is it that healthcare in this country creates such a drastic gap between mental, physical, sexual, womens, and general health? Why is it that mental healthcare is often so inaccessible and unaffordable that it’s not even a legitimate option between scheduling visits, coordinating parent drop off, the burden of the cost on the family–pitting members who need it at even more of a burden than they already feel like? With our worker’s rights, why do we focus so much on the rates of depression and anxiety instead of the cause–unhealthy work environments and a subpar standard for “health” education of any kind? 

Why do we assume the absence of a diagnosis, medical visits, or obvious spiraling means there is no “problem”? Why do we downplay psychology or the study of the mind for the general public, a field dominated by women, yet utilize it in intelligence investigations, extensive military experimentation, and the interpretation of any human who has ever existed? Why is it that women are directed to take precautions for violence towards women when it’s typically men who are the perpetrators? Where do we draw the line and how do we begin to establish a healthier society? 

Back to the Origins (1:04:55)

By now everyone should know/be aware of the premise in which I started the blog–under a psychoanalytical anxiety cloud regarding the Ghislaine Maxwell / Jeffrey Epstein child rape cases during quarantine of coronavirus. With former Governor Andrew Cuomo removed from public office, Matt Gaetz and the Donald Trump scandals and overlap (which Republicans seem very willing to ignore because it must be easier for them to mentally grasp that?? And because they assume the entirety of the Democratic party is solely the Clintons, which I TOTALLY GET, having been raised to absolutely hate them myself and being somewhat annoyed with their continued presence in politics, but alas, I digress.) I’ve said it before, but I think anyone, but especially men, who have historically held those positions of power have not acquired or sought them out because they were genuinely good, deserving, accountable people. Winning “capitalism” isn’t really a positive. It literally means you’ve managed to exploit the work of other people to your own disproportionate benefit and you sit on your gluttonous thrones.  (Thank you Bo Burnham for your melodious and catchy youtube-harry-potter-puppet-pals-style-tunes and fuck you Jeffrey Bezos.) 

So why do I reference this now? I think it’s clear it falls under the umbrella of “consent”.

A big talking point I see from these publicized scandals, at least in reference to celebrities, is that the women can and should be grateful????

Or that they’re only speaking out now for “attention” (not support, validation, or protection)?

Or that they can or should be happy with whatever perceived “benefit” they might have gotten, which is usually tied to literally just money that finally gave them the access to actually hold these fuckers accountable and going public might have even HELPED PROTECT THEM AND KEEP THEM SAFE?

Or maybe going public with their claims is or was the only way to divert the proper amount of attention and focus onto the case that it deserves lest it otherwise be swept under the rug or completely just a blip in time, unaltering the timeline with any significance even if it may be haunting the person who didn’t have a choice to ignore it.

The discussions are typically framed as if access to these wealthy people is a huge plus? And our wealth distribution and societal values are so skewed that people think financial compensation, even when naivety is taken advantage of, should be enough to buy silence? What is WRONG with our celebrity culture? Even celebrities are just fucking human beings, like anyone else. They shouldn’t exist on some imaginary pedestal. They shouldn’t be able to buy their way out of legal complications and responsibility.

This is exactly why I was completely unimpressed by a man on an emotional bender of immaturity and fears over infertility had the audacity to tell me that he should be the prize–implying I should be okay with or allow disrespect or lack of consideration to any of my many, many accomplishments, simply because HIS social circle or title was sought after. All this told me was that he never operated with people at or above his level–only those who admired him. Not the flex you think that is, sir. Athletes. 

The Handmaid’s Tale highlights this importance of not excusing people’s behavior by placing them on a pedestal from an interesting perspective. June fights tooth and nail for the Canadian government, following her escape from Gilead, to acknowledge how implicated the wealthy leaders were. How, despite the legislative framework of the area (created by them, allowing them to perform the “ceremonies”), despite the plague facing humanity, it didn’t excuse rape. Systemic allowance of undermining the severity of rape ended in Fred Waterford’s grisly execution at the hands of the women previously held captive as handmaids to get the justice that so many women in the USA will never be able to receive. 

For what it’s worth (probably nothing), people who claim that a person accepting a bribe, or financial compensation, for sexual assault/harassment/rape had damn sure better be okay with and voting to support legal sexwork. It’s fascinating in the legal framework of our country that so many (sexual violence) cases can be settled out of court and for financial exchange, yet “sexwork” continues to be deemed illegitimate, making it less and less safe or regulated. Can we please shut down these conversations–seemingly excusing or justifying child rape and sex trafficking, especially when its an attractively deemed girl, so long as it ends in a perceived level of financial success for that human.

Sometimes I really don’t understand how the fuck we got “here”, as a society. 

Frankly, I’m not surprised, though. R. Kelly was notorious for openly being a huge piece of shit, wedding a child and whatnot. Yet white conservative “Save the children!” crowds couldn’t say shit when they got pregnant as a teenager, were never told that abortion was even a possibility, being shamed for it since childbirth and all that, and were forced to marry their (potential) rapist even if it was a much older man, just like R. Kelly. Cultural norms and whatnot. Why do you think celebrities, especially children who have grown up traveling and existing across multiple cultures, struggle to have the same norms or understandings, when they’ve experienced the subjectivity of “life”? Where the age of consent varies dramatically based on which state you live in? When certain states don’t even include “romeo and juliet” laws, then corral ages that supposedly shouldn’t be interacting within the confines of its public schooling for tens of hours a week? 

What would all the religious cults do if they were unable to indoctrinate religion into their children simply because comprehensive sexual education would threaten their entire propagation? 

Can’t sign your life into the hands of oil-hungry politicians using cycles of debt as a bargaining chip whilst playing real life “Risk” with the nation’s military, can’t go to certain movies by yourself, can’t even vote, drive, and damn sure can’t even drink–but you are fit to potentially be REQUIRED, depending on the state, to fully develop and birth a child with almost no social safety nets in place to assist with health and wellness. 

How have we not collectively had a “what the actual fuck, federal government?” moment as a result? Why the fuck are these even topics to discuss or debate?!

Yet, R. Kelly was allowed to control his own finances, walk around free, for decades.

Britney Spears, who had a perfectly normal and appropriate response to constantly being stalked and harassed by what Taylor Swift appropriately deemed “hunters with cell phones”, had her put under her father’s control, ensuring she was a literal cash cow well enough to perform in huge productions regularly, earning millions of dollars, but somehow not well enough to determine how to spend it herself?

Meanwhile Chris Brown is allowed to continue to be in the public eye, produce music, and rack up domestic violence after domestic violence charge.

Michael Vick just gets handed sponsorships and million dollar contracts to continue to play in the NFL?

We just positively reinforce shitty bullshit behavior and only separate the “art” from the person and the “behavior” from the “character” when that person is a man. 

Kobe Bryant’s rape case, in which the power and influence of a nationally admired athlete, came with accusations of how the woman likely got in “over her head” and didn’t know how to back out. This may be true, or she may have just been raped. None of us were there, but as a woman, I am aware of the emotional difficulties and fear, in particular, that encompasses being locked in a room with a man, someone physically larger and whose strength I may be focused on, who could utilize me however they want to, and not think twice about it. Would YOU feel comfortable saying “no”? Would you even feel like there was an option? What if you had agreed to “sex” but had a different expectation in what that encompassed? 

What if it’s like when Tre Boston, Carolina Panthers free safety, asked me to dance at La Rez, proceeded to bend me over and rail the fuck out of my backside, and I politely excused myself because that was absolutely not what asking someone to dance means. I’m still appalled years later by his assumption that I would have thought that’s what I was agreeing to.

Men’s sexual prowess is typically framed, highlighted, applauding for how many different types of women they can bed. It’s why I’ve said I felt more power from NOT fucking men. Or how I think hypersexuality (especially in heterosexual relationships) is related to mentally reducing those men who hurt you, physically and mentally, to ashes, just another notch on your belt, which IS a certain power of its own and hypersexuality is noted as a trauma response. But would you actually fuck these people if you had the time to know them? Why is their name the source of your potential bragging rights? I promise you, these people are NOT that special. They’re literally just another human. It doesn’t make you special to “have the chance” to fuck them and it doesn’t increase the value of your own sexuality and we definitely shouldn’t excuse their predatory behavior because these people “should have known better” or received some perceived gift in the form of something like a Grammy or Oscar. Please place a higher value in who these individuals are, character wise, and who YOU are. 

This is also a common theme with athletes, and especially college athletes on college campuses. If more women were athletic themselves, and women didn’t drop out of sports at multiple times the rate of men, maybe they’d be less impressed by the dusty ass kicker who chokes every game and “jokingly” nominates the women he fucks for “house dog” in his fraternity’s composite. I always found it SO amusing that he thought he was such hot shit on his moped scooter when I could consistently kick further and perform better than he could, just on a slightly different scale. Yet these college gals acted like he walked on water. 

It’s honestly disgusting that entertainment has been so prioritized and skewed and wealth distribution is so warped that the placement of someone’s value, who actually offers NOTHING directly to better their local community, is higher than those who make up and spend every day bettering their communities–teachers, nurses, doctors, law enforcement who prioritize public safety over power or quotas, the person establishing local internet connections, your trash collectors, literally anyone who actually exists in the local community and does tangible work day after day to physically better the community. The abstract may be more highly valued work, but why does that inherently make it “impressive” to people?

It also gives these people, but mainly the men on campus, this delusional grandeur of power.
You play a game.

With the reemergence of societally casual sex (note: there was never really a time where casual sex didn’t exist… it just may have not been discussed), which, again, anyone around the college age is absolutely engaging in, just so everyone is on the same page, I firmly believe if you are dishonest or unclear with your intentions in any way, you probably should be worried about your sexual endeavors coming back to figuratively (although, potentially literally) bite you in the ass. I would assume there are a lot of “grey” areas that people realize in hindsight are super cringey at best, or their own memories will be warped by various substances or time such that they wouldn’t be able to confirm or deny the validity of other’s accounts. 

In high school, beginning my junior year, after the physical, sexual, and emotional abuse (called “young love”) of my long term boyfriend, I began to gain hope that I could have happiness and romance once again. It came in the form of an incredibly nerdy, white runner with Olympic potential for middle distance, in a neighboring county. Being a conversationalist, I blended with other teams in high school track the way I traveled across states in college, befriending 2 gals from Calvert, one being an exchange student from Norway (jealous of their general quality of living, honestly), and a group of boys from Northern. We’d hang out in groups at one of the girl’s houses, counties over, which would be safer for me because there was no way my boyfriend would be able to track me to their houses an hour away. Thankfully, iphones didn’t have a “share my location” feature at the time, because my boyfriend would’ve been an actual nightmare. 

One of those guys (T) became a close confidant, with me eventually revealing the intimate severity of the relationship I was trapped by to what I thought was a guy who could relate because of his own emotionally unstable mother. Our entire group’s friendship had been bonded by my own mother’s work within the track community in our state, as she was friendly with all of their coaches and helped organize the meets, and this guy in particular continues to maintain a close relationship with my mom, a pseudo-mother and adult woman he actually respects, to this day. At the time, though, this kid was someone that I gradually grew closer to and while I was aware that yes, he certainly did like me, he functioned essentially as the person I needed to survive in those months. As with most domestically violent relationships, I had tried to break it off several times, to no avail. He would beg, plead for me back, threaten my guy friends, buy me presents, write me love confessions, stalk my house under the guise of surprising me to “talk”, text me from friend’s numbers after I had blocked his own, have his parents call mine. After the “prank” he orchestrated of being held up at gunpoint by his neighbor, the lack of concrete evidence–always rumors of infidelities brought on by girls I’d never met, and love-bombing of attention and pressure, there was rarely escape. Still, T stayed up late and helped validate the fears and beliefs I had–ones my boyfriend would dismiss, justify, or lie about. I thought I could trust him.

Well, it turns out T did NOT take kindly to me mustering up the courage to break up with my shitty boyfriend (at least off/on my entire senior year) when it turns out I was more interested in his best friend, the kid who looked like McLovin, because he had been losing to him in every aspect of track–second in the school, county, and state, despite breaking records or hitting incredible times himself, and this was just another time where, in his mind, “second is the first loser”. This kid watched “Talladega Knights”, took the “if you ain’t first, you’re last” quote and ran with it.

It turned out you could only trust men when you could understand what they wanted from you.

T, much like myself, is very good at holding grudges. So when his best friend and I had sex during their senior week–which wasn’t even my OWN senior week (for those who don’t know, senior week is a “beach week” in Ocean City, MD after high school graduation), and his best friend didn’t want to own up to the fact that we had planned it, I was visiting Ocean City for this opportunity (away from strict parents, partying, staying with his friends, etc.), and that this kid still went through with it even though I had maybe quite possibly allowed myself to be seduced by a different one of their friends the night before and he knew about it. (Give me a break, okay, I had never gotten to go to high school dances or do things other than sports without my shitty boyfriend for YEARS… YEARS.)

Because the guy had like 2 shots, though, T thought it would be hilarious to accuse me of “rape”, just like he thought it would be entertaining to brand me “Wizard Sleeves” at one point.

Every track meet, every interaction for weeks involved public torment not dissimilar to Hester Prynne’s “the Scarlet Letter”.
It was public mockery and ridicule and bullying in its worst form.

Mind you, I had confided my intimately abusive history and some very dark secrets to this kid in moments of vulnerability. Still, he turned to be the bully when I wouldn’t be so trauma bonded that I wanted to fuck him.

Thus, I did the only thing that seemed reasonable at the time and made “wizard sleeves” my xbox live name, adding all of his best friends so they could see when I gamed.

Call of Duty lobbies filled with 12 year olds have better insults than you, dude.

Still, it was simply more disappointing that his friend just didn’t acknowledge it, not wanting to cause “Conflict” and pulling the “you know how T is” card and I realize now, years later, that men who don’t speak up at inappropriate behavior, even if its their friends, are a big part of the issue and someone I would never be attracted to.

I don’t really care how long you may have known this person for, or whether you feel it’s your place, I think it’s honestly disgusting some of the societal standards we accept as norms just because it’s “easier”. If your friends treat and act like that towards others, if your friends consider women human beings for their own disposal and use, to the point where you’re infuriated that they deviate from your expectations of them, for them being their own person, for them not wanting to fuck you, that’s a huge red flag to me now. It bothers me that at one point it was just something I expected and accepted of men, friends, and humanity. 

Because T’s words, bullying, and sneers have echoed in my mind arguably worse and far more often than even the memories of my psycho, controlling ex. His accusations stung more, because they were from someone I thought had seen and understood the inside of my heart. All of the positive affirmation to leave my boyfriend felt like lies. My safe haven and escape became riddled with the possibility of more virulence.

I felt like there was never a time when I would truly be happy, or when a man would know everything about me, love me for who I was, and accurately observe, pursue, and defend the character and person I am.
It just seemed like a fair expectation of disappointment.

And years later, under the guise of re-examining or searching for a reason to make sense of the pain of “actual” rape, random and sudden sexual assaults at bars, the memory of waking to my best friend molesting me while I slept, those words, bullying, and sneers echoed in my mind as I considered the possibility that maybe I was a horrible person and deserved those things. I sat and pondered what I could or should have done differently, instead of even considering the possibility that I just happened to be in the wrong place, wrong time.

That when you trust people, eventually many of them will break it.

That in order to experience “life” with humans, you had to grant some of them an inherent trust, and knowing who they were gets harder and harder to distinguish the validity of as you age. 

I realized in almost an epiphany type of moment, that you never actually have insight into someone else’s mentality. I actually think it was realizing I probably would date Joe Goldberg, Penn Badgley’s psychotic serial killer character in “You”, when I happened upon this.

Times when I think I’m absolutely clear, I’ve been told I sound like I’m speaking in cryptic riddles.

Which then made me consider the reality of the gray area of consent.

Out of every 1000 sexual assaults reported to law enforcement, 975 of those walk free. A big reason for this is the lack of or ability to preserve any evidence, but I think an even bigger consideration is the inability to understand another’s perception. Especially given that most people know their rapist. Which says less about the safety of strangers and more about the potential opportunities for the people in your life to have access to you in ways that would otherwise be restricted. Unless every interaction is (secretly) being filmed (disgusting, gross, even illegal), voice recorded (same), or studied, the reality of human interaction means operating on the fly and responding to each person’s interpretation of the other’s physical, verbal, and emotional cues. Then I consider how many of my own, my friend’s, my family’s sexual assaults were never reported. How many would go unacknowledged, dismissed, or forgotten as if it was an old memory being cleaned out by the service crew of your brain in “Inside Out” (You know… the one with the Tripledent gum.) How common these circumstances and issues actually are.

Part of the issue, in my mind, is that men are not taught from a young age to consider other people in the way that women are. Women’s existence always revolves around someone else. (Yes, this is changing, but not quickly enough). Whether it’s your parents, your father (in particular), your future husband, your future children. Women are not free to say or do as they please, because their existence is always tied back to someone. Whether that someone is real, or a future imaginary concept. You are raised to consider the standards, beliefs, and acceptance of other people’s behavior before your own. You are raised to act and meet the expectations of other people, to get into character, smile for the press, exchange pleasantries, epitomize grace, because you should just be happy to be there. Happy to be included. Allowed, permitted, to be.

Men, on the other hand, are allowed to do and act as they please. They can hold public office despite being horribly vile people, and nobody thinks twice about it. They aren’t disbarred from professional sports teams for disgusting and horrendous conduct off the field, as long as they can run fast enough to make the men in charge more money. They can hold political office, even with platforms of sociopathic lies and major ethics violations, time and time again, yet women can’t–even when someone else leaks their nudes in a revenge porn scenario. They are never asked how they will balance a career and a family life, whether they’re doing enough for their family, whether they should “chill out and settle down”, whether their expectations are too high.

Taylor Swift’s “The Man” referencing how men’s personal behavior and identity can be separated from their jobs and persona, yet women’s behavior and identity can’t, comes to mind.

If men being held to the same standard that women have long been held to, is perceived as an “attack on men”, what culture and reality do you think we’ve created for the women in this country?

Talk to your friends, your family, your children, your doctors, about sex. About the comprehensive difficulties of life. About the confusion of growing up, the subjectivity of societal influences. The respect yet importance of questioning authority or explaining yourself and your choices. Be aware of what you don’t know. The limitations of your current knowledge. The limitations of your knowledge of others. The unpredictability of what it means to be human. Because creating this idyllic landscape of peace, only to pull away the veil and expose the reality of the people you’ve trusted, the friendships you’ve cultivated, the life experiences you’ve accumulated, to be riddled with deceit–whether it’s the education you received, the authority you believed, the mental, physical, and spiritual peace you were told was the norm, only complicates the process.

An abstinence only education, one where consent isn’t taught, one where children turn to adults who learn solely through experiences and there is no legislative expectation to expect them to be protected, only yields a society where people learn that communicating their expectations, standards, and boundaries makes them “difficult”.
It only benefits those most predatory.

That’s not the cultural legacy we want historians to emphasize, but it is one in the history of women throughout every study of humanity to date. History is doomed to repeat itself lest we learn from it. The importance of comprehensive, unbiased, objective education is never more imperative. 

I always end these feeling like Albus Dumbledore at the end of a Hogwarts year feast. I know this was an exceptionally long one, but I just didn’t feel like I could shorten it. I hope it makes some of you critically think. I know we Americans tend to hate that, though.

Also shout out to Megan Thee Stallion for arguably doing more for public health than any of these intervention programs. Lyrics like “thought he had me til I came out with the condom”? “No guarantees on the penetration”?
THIS is the conversation we need to be having.

I love this generation of women.

If you ever get sad just remember that for the rest of your life you’ll slowly watch each man in power topple gloriously from his throne and a lot of those will be at the deliverance of the united strength of women scorned. 

There’s a power in that. 

Happy October, hope everyone’s in a particularly wicked mood.

It’s not “spooky season” unless men are trying to convince you to finger their buttholes and then call you crazy when you say “that seems like a “commitment” level of privilege”.