The Policing of Women and Sexuality: Legalize Sexwork

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The Policing of Women and Sexuality: Legalize Sexwork
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Gonna start this one off strong, because I spent the last ~6 weeks finally seeing all my friends. Nature is healing. (Everywhere except Japan, at least–because are US citizens aware of the rhetoric around the Olympic games and coronavirus going on in Japan? Or the rest of the world? Oh wait. I forgot we blatantly don’t give a shit what happens to the entirety of their population’s health. How could we…when we don’t even care about our own?
My bad.)

The educated hoes are vaccinated and emerging from our coronavirus slumbers of hibernation to frolic in the sunshine, bare our asses in thong bikini bottoms, and freshen up the tan on all of our cheeks and I am leading the charge.

One of my favorite people, we’ll call him “Citroni” asked me “do you just get angry and write?”
and like… fuck yes I do.

Some people get angry and murder.
Or ignore their feelings for years then snap and have mental breakdowns that harm others. 

…I think I’m doing well with using writing and art as an outlet. 

Citroni also tells me that I am a “walking contradiction” and I probably should not take as much pride in that as I do. (Keep ya on your toes)

The difference between the support I receive from my friendships and those I get from my family, is exemplified by the following: My mom was worried about “what will your friends think [of my blog]” and my friends literally asked if I’d ever seen Lucifer (I had not but I am now starting it), recommended that I watch The Sweetest Thing, and Citroni showed me “It’s Always Sunny”, because there was a recurring theme in our group of 3-4 men that I’d regularly go out with that I reminded them of “Dee” (solely because she was the only woman… I WAS offended initially). He explained the dynamic between her and her husband, apparently one of the main writers on the show, and why the vulgarity and honesty of her character was so groundbreaking.

This blog and “Zeda Grace” is the Sasha Fierce to my Beyoncé and they love that for me.

They also say that “I would’ve thrived as a housewife in the early 1900’s when I could just exist within the house and take comfort in the knowledge that I couldn’t do anything else.” So I wouldn’t feel so obligated to learn and do EVERYTHING, “just because I can”.

It’s not that I don’t want to “work”, either. It’s that I don’t want to work on things that don’t benefit society, disproportionately allow others to profit off of me, are purposefully indulging unhealthy environments and contributing to stress and reduced longevity or quality of life in a for profit healthcare system, and I just feel “safest” at home. PTSD is a bitch and I’m aware of the brevity and relativity of time. Being able to control my environment brings me so much mental peace.

Is it possible that my Maslow’s hierarchy of needs is plateaued at step 2? Security and safety? Probably.

Yzma was right.
I should’ve thought about the difficulties of life before I became a peasant.

I would love to not be so financially insecure too (I’m a progressive gal–I’ll let my husband work after marriage) and rent is expensive. 

Thus, it should come as absolutely no surprise that I am very PRO sexwork. 

I had a wonderful former professional dominatrix who came across my instagram and has offered to speak to me. She is a regular lecturer for an “ethics in therapy” class at Appalachian State, and conducts panels on sexual intimacy and healthy communication within BDSM. Reach out to me if there’s any particular topics, questions, or situations you would like me to relay to her as we gear up for that. So for her, this episode will be dedicated to the Red River Women’s Clinic, based in Fargo, North Dakota, which offers comprehensive women’s health and is working to lobby against all of the challenges to Roe Versus Wade in the form of GOP sponsored abortion bills all over the country. You can donate directly to their campaign at: http://www.redriverwomensclinic.com

For now, this episode will just be me speaking from personal experience into the economic proposition of “marriage” in the USA specifically, what dating looks like in your 20’s, and the ridiculously outdated illegality of sexwork. 

Marriage is an economic proposition for a woman. I don’t know how many times Amy March (Florence Pugh) has to heartbreakingly acknowledge to Laurie (Timothée Chalamet) in Little Women (2019) that:

“Even if I had my own money, which I don’t, it would belong to my husband the minute we were married. If we had children they would belong to him, not me. They would be his property. So don’t sit there and tell me that marriage isn’t an economic proposition, because it is. It may not be for you, but it most certainly is for me.” 

There is no difference in “marriage”, “dating”, and “sexwork”, apart from the length of the expected contract in the United States and the feasibility to exit said contract.

Not in a country where quality childcare is inaccessible and unaffordable, public schools continue to be devalued and underfunded, there is no guaranteed paid parental leave, healthcare is elitist and inaccessible for many, we barely cracked the top 50 (holding solid at 49th) for economic gender equality globally, and women’s rights are constantly being threatened by religious zealots masquerading as politicians.

My personal recommendation would be making sexwork and pornography created or used with the intent for distribution illegal under the age of 25. Sexworkers would not be allowed to seek child support (should they get pregnant and decide to keep the child, which would hopefully be against the terms of the contract to begin with), would have to register with and get regular STD testing verified through health departments, have a verifiable way to conduct background checks for prospective clients, and anyone under the age of 25 would not be allowed on the physical premises, much like how casinos and stripclubs are allowed to bar anyone from location. 

Why 25?
Because the frontal lobe responsible for “judgment” and decision making is reportedly fully developed by then. 

We also shouldn’t universally punish teenagers and young people from taking photos of themselves, though, for the intent of intimacy between themselves and another. A widespread assumption of that will only serve to punish humans who do so, whether the reasoning being they are lacking respect and acknowledgment in other forms of their lives (and further punishing those has been shown to psychologically never be beneficial), or they actually LIKE and EMBRACE their body and it will make young humans afraid of their bodies and any resemblance to sexual behavior in general because it is misconstrued as “taboo” versus “healthy, natural human behavior”. Like Hunter Schafer mentions in Euphoria, nudes are sexual currency in the age of cell phones. Everyone is going to do it. Stop sending children to juvie for it, okay? 

How about we strengthen those revenge porn laws so men can stop texting them in group chats with no repercussions?

The current porn industry already exploits children, particularly young girls coming from largely abusive homes with low socioeconomic status in a way that should be criminal. 

The “barely legal” promotions. “Teen” in the name to appeal to the murkiness and destruction of innocence, naivety, and youth. Anyone can upload apparently any video with no identification required? “Amateur” videos where it’s DAMN clear the “piece de resistance” was unaware they were being filmed (they’re definitely not THAT good of an actress).

Mia Khalifa has scenes that made production companies billions of dollars and herself only $1000-1500 a scene. She has millions of views, death threats from ISIS, and only ~$10,000 total to have “benefitted”. 

Belle Knox had to leave Duke temporarily because of harassment over her revealed porn star status, which she only did to pay for that very same, ivy league education. (An actual human I know dated her, as he knew her in high school, and thankfully he didn’t disgustingly objectify her like his “brothers” did.)

August Ames hung herself after a twitter debate around cyberbullying and homophobia. Las Vegas has TUNNELS where former porn stars live amongst the transient population, because THAT community is more accepting, healthier, and supportive for their social structure. The cover of Blink-182’s “Enema of the State” album (aka: that famous sexy nurse) went to prison in 2008 for tax evasion. Meanwhile it’s legal for billionaires and giant corporations to not pay any taxes but benefit from public space. The average life expectancy of a porn star is ~31 years–down over the past decade from 38 years. 

Taylor Swift forewarned everyone on the dangers of contract negotiation.
Of the exploitation of young, naive women.  

Athletes can renegotiate all the time, including midseason, yet the second women do it, they’re labeled as “greedy” and “manipulative” (Still not over the tragic demise of the friendship between the Barstool Sports podcast’s Call Her Daddy OG hosts.)

Yet women at 18 are allowed to make a decision which may warrant apparently legal death threats, impacts their entire life in ways they literally cannot imagine, and we just allow it, as long as it makes the men in control money.

Women in the porn industry are often, much like the film & entertainment industry, forced or encouraged to consume pills, drink alcohol, smoke substances of many kinds, and many even “choose” to do so because it dulls the pain, lowers the inhibitions, and they don’t or can’t “have an opinion” on their rights because they may never have been taught that boundaries are okay in the first place.

Women all over this country, for decades, are and have been murdered and discarded haphazardly, sometimes whole, sometimes in pieces, because sexwork as a profession, despite rampant sexual violence as is, has been looked down upon in the same way that your high school teachers may have condemned working as a garbage collector–even if that position’s union and wages were significantly better.

Fraternities at UNC hire strippers who pick up dollar bills off the floor with the labial lips of their vaginas, but more than 4 women aren’t allowed to sign onto the same lease because of the “brothel” rule and only sororities are required to have a “house mom”. 

Before you say “not all men”, please remind yourselves that at University of Florida there is a fraternity that does “biker bash”, has girls, some of whom are 18 and left home for the first time for college, ride on the back of men’s scooters, dressed in motorcycle gear, and when they get to the fraternity, the walls of every surface and room are COVERED in porn. Old 80’s porn is blasted on every television, computer screen, projector. Women have to ditch their tops and walk around in leather pants and bras, and will be kicked out of their sorority if a photo of them, even in the background, leaks.

But the school looks the other way because “boys will be boys” and there is wealth involved, yet sororities will punish women for attending a party formally hosted by the same fraternities they set up mixers with.

I would TOTALLY have gone to and LOVED that party, by the way. I’m not discrediting the party.

I literally showed up to the “Tide Slide” event at a different fraternity with 10 cans of four loko like some kind of chaos fairy, and spent the afternoon writhing around with my girl friends on a humongous slip and slide coated in soapy bubbles in just my bikini, I’m HERE for the parties. I just think the sexist standards and legislation are annoying as fuck.

Nevermind the fact that at every university and every woman I’ve ever talked with, widespread knowledge of which fraternities are full of rapists is shared openly. (If there’s that many men, especially young, in-the-process-of-becoming-educated-but-not-yet men in one place, for the record, they all have rapists…you just might not know it yet. It’s basic statistics.) There are whispers exchanged on the public buses. Warnings heeded in group chats. Which fraternities “QB sneak” (quarter bar of xanax in the drink) to roofie women, including in their “jungle juice” and which individuals within to be mindful of. Which men have coked out temper tantrums. Which have STDs or STIs or any combination of letters that may affect your (sexual) health. 

RIP to the UNC basketball team in ~2013 when Yik Yak was still a thing, because the identity of which player (who prematurely left for the NBA) supposedly having R. Kelly style unprotected sex with half the school, despite a virulent and new herpes infection, was exposed.

…No shame to STDs, either, but we ALSO have outdated legislation on that which can’t and don’t protect anyone or require honest disclosure to any extent.

If you’re mature, an adult, and any decent kind of person, just fucking talk like humans about safe sex and protection and whatever you may or may not have, the medications available, etc. LEARN TO COMMUNICATE. You will NEVER build a healthy, happy, or well founded relationship on deceit of any kind. I am a fucking nationally certified epidemiologist these things are SO COMMON and would be WAY LESS COMMON or “problematic” if we just fucking TALKED ABOUT HEALTH AND HAD WIDESPREAD ACCESS TO HEALTH WITHOUT A RELIGIOUS OVERTONE.

God forbid we take the fucking profits away from private drug manufacturing and pushing and allow government test facilities, or government created and regulated chemical manufacturing and research in general to enable healthier and safer environments because people are curious. 

Curiosity is normal human behavior.
Sexuality is normal human behavior.

How about we make it easier and safer and accessible to experiment and try things safely, in an EDUCATED manner, because people are going to do it anyway, without unwittingly condemning unsuspecting, naive victims from the negative repercussions and threats to their professional lives and personal safety for years just for speaking up? 

How about we also stop treating children like collective property instead of the reality–that they will and can be their own soul and person, and not condemn them to the norms, rules, and regulations of excessively strict, controlling households and societies? It’s ridiculous that we even endorse or, at the very least, refuse to condemn abusive, manipulative, domineering parenting methods because of “tradition”, yet then penalize and punish those who weren’t brought up “right” (in conformity) despite being a country sooooo prideful of its “freedoms”. 

(14:14)

How about we remove the guilt associated with some of these behaviors so we create an environment where people can seek help, embrace honesty, and reduce the limitations of the ego and almost exclusively women aren’t thought to be “less than” for engaging in such acts?

Where people can work towards accountability and public acceptance with honesty, instead of privately hiding their actions because “it’s not about what’s true, it’s about what you can prove in court”? (A large issue we’ve seen arise in hit-and-run cases, as it can be less damaging to your driving record and insurance than a DUI.)

In public health, we still use outdated rhetoric on “high risk” behaviors for classification of men who have sex with men, or women who have sex with men who have sex with men, as means of publishing statistical data, yet that same “riskiness” of behavior is only relevant if the person’s partners aren’t mutually practicing safe sex and monogamy isn’t followed.

We associate the premise of “control” with “education”, “awareness”, and “safety”, but only focus on the theme of “control” with reference to legislation.

As far as concerns overlapping drug trafficking with sexwork–the opioid crisis is a huge issue in the area I’m from. 

The guy I “lost” my virginity to, my brother’s best friend growing up, died of an overdose in August of 2020. Thankfully, I have not had random ghostly sex dreams but we did used to fuck all over my high school when my father disbarred him from my house for “dishonoring” me, so there was a bit of a concern for that possibility. Same father my mom had to lie to in order to get me on birth control, mind you, and who lost HIS virginity to a sexworker. Same father who gave my older brother stacks of pornographic magazines and an entire floor of the house. Same father who would purposefully not announce himself and walk into the movie room in the basement when my boyfriends were over, despite knowing I was sexually active with them??

My friend, Amanda, speaks on my podcast about sex on E pills and seizures from substance use, in high school.

My sister’s friend from high school, a marine, who recently reached out to me via IG, told me his little brother was addicted to heroin before he even left high school, when he was a SOPHOMORE, because of teenage parties in the rural country, and everyone knew the distributors, but the local community wouldn’t acknowledge the issues surrounding addiction and lack of mental healthcare for an area dominated by military bases, and children were punished through education for behavior indicating these issues instead of being granted education, potential, and hope in environments that offered an alternative. Really just want to give that guy a shoutout, too, because his brother has been sober over the last 2 years and that is one of the hardest things to overcome. I wish him nothing but the best in his Air Force career. Really, really proud and thankful that my work resonated with his brother, and that he reached out to me as a result. Super cool move on his part and I’m very grateful for his transparency with me, himself, and whatever direction he continues to lead others in. 

We got one DARE class in 5th grade then a “refresher” on sex ed but never any classes that framed “health” in relation to science. Or even medicine. Never any classes that formally taught any kind of “physical health” and education outside of how to be an athlete and what the rules of formal sports are. Never any classes that actually conveyed what “science” is out of purely introductory biology and chemistry.

Good Charlotte was right, my high school was more like a jail cell, a penitentiary.
Public and formal education doesn’t HAVE to be like that, though.

Mina actually told me that drug use was common knowledge in her highschool, (because, Florida) and she always knew she would do cocaine, but that there was a common sentiment that “you were fine if you waited until college.” 

Cocaine was actually more common than marijuana at UF, so this doesn’t surprise me. After knowledge of the realities that everyone does cocaine as an adult, particularly those in higher professional programs or in the Wall Street financial sector of employment, the way we treat addiction and condemn substance use is so classist that it should be embarrassing in our community mentalities. 

With the biochemistry background, all I have to say is what the fuck are we doing with the current culture and treatment towards drugs? Ya’ll DO realize the similarities between prescription medications and “black market” drugs are fucking idiotically overlapping, right? And the potential for abuse or misuse is just as strong? If not more, because people will consume alcohol with prescriptions without thinking twice (Tiger Woods, whats up) because it’s “safe” since it has a white label with a doctor’s name on that orange bottle. 

One of my best friends from undergrad roofied herself because she didn’t realize her new prescription meds would interact with the one drink of alcohol so strongly that she’d physically pass out. 

I arguably “roofied” myself in my gap year. I had NO clue (please don’t laugh, this is just how naive I am/was) that Robitussin, the cough syrup, will do that to a gal. (Shoulda looked it up after the “Jumpman” lyrics from Drake.) Just to further embarrass myself, I had a lingering cough and took some prior to going to La Rez and Pantana Bob’s at UNC in my gap year. Did NOT know that there is a DELAYED effect. Or that over the counter meds negatively and seriously interact with certain substances, particularly one as common as alcohol, to begin with. 

Had 1 drink, waited a bit, felt completely fine.

Had a second drink, still felt fine, arguably more “sober” than I normally did at this point.

Ended up bringing a guy from the soccer team, who went on to play for FC Dallas, home that night and… this poor man. I went from 60-to-zero with about ten seconds left of the cab ride. I remember giving him head (consensually) and him cumming very quickly (not a surprise, as I’ve been known to suck a soul out through a man’s cocks, not unlike the dementors in Harry Potter). I’m also pretty sure I worried him because I had essentially no reaction to him cumming other than slurping that down with the good work ethic for completing jobs that the overachiever in me is capable of. Even that memory is blurry, though, as I started to get pretty out of it, which means this same story could be HORRIFIC from his point of view, 

And then magically it was the next morning, because I don’t remember anything until I woke up passed out in my roommate’s room, with the door to her room locked (by me), and he was just gone. My roommate was not home–she was sleeping over with one of his teammates (despite dating the guy she is now married to at the time). Also 99% sure I went into her room, locked the door, and passed the fuck out. The poor guy left at some point and I have never spoken to him since, so I literally have no idea what happened and while it’s not a great feeling, it IS amusing. 

Let’s just appreciate that from his perspective, this blonde witch who he’s seen once COATED in blood (because I used to get EXPLOSIVE nosebleeds from Accutane, and occasionally they’d come on when I was running in a sports bra and spandex around Chapel Hill and I’d only have my hands to stop it) just took him home, gave him head, then disappeared. Just never came back to my room, IF we were even in my room to begin with (from his perspective).

That experience is also why I think I got drugged at STORY, because it’s one of only a handful of times where my memory goes from standardly creepily exceptional, to essentially nonexistent. 

Maybe the commonality of discussion around these topics is why Mina has a typically “healthier” outlook on substance use in general? She’s done acid exactly one time, and had an amazing experience, so she doesn’t feel the need to do it again. She’s able to go through “cleanses” and completely reduce her alcohol intake to zero periodically just to recenter herself mentally and physically, and this is a gal that once won Senior bar golf with her boyfriend (which takes a fucking TANK of a functional alcoholic to do.)

Florida does a lot of shit wrong, but it seems between my friends who grew up there, there was less consensus on the “shame” of certain behavior. The human body isn’t so ostracized or taboo because women are barely clothed YEAR ROUND, so men don’t assume it’s an “open invitation”. Women don’t grow up thinking their shoulders and body are risqué and physically seeing it is inherently sexualized. Drug use is common and “normalized” enough, with the bricks of cocaine washing up on the beaches every hurricane, that it’s only “problematic” if it impacts your functioning “healthily” in society. (Even though I’d like to remind everybody that we don’t actually have a healthily functioning society in any way.) You’re allowed to do and consume as much as you want, so long as you’re still making money, or working a long term career oriented job, but even then your necessity for an escape from reality isn’t addressed in a way to ask WHY you need to escape reality. 

I’m not one to shame behavior, either– you just can’t excuse or denounce it universally when you’re just as guilty. You can’t control others’ reactions to your behavior and you have to accept that it may have negatively affected them.

Had a conversation recently with an old friend from home, who my mom taught in highschool and who went on to NC State to play NCAA D1 football. I once visited him at school just to be a friendly face, see how he was doing, and he later indicated that he “could have had me if he wanted.” As someone who speaks very openly about sexuality (again, normal human behavior) but is also VERY private and particular with sexual intimacy, I was so offended. I brought it up recently because he posted on instagram about “fake girls wanting a real man” (in reference to women who get their nails, hair, boobs, ass, etc. done) and I messaged him about how maybe he should consider and educate himself on why the beauty industry makes women feel like they need to do “all of that” (which is fire if it’s for your own style, but most of it is tailored to appealing sexually to men) and how hypocritical it was for someone who spends hours in the gym or staring in a mirror to say that. Particularly when he has objectified me in the past. He got a bit butthurt, let me know he used to do drugs and wasn’t that person anymore, but then I reminded him he is still being excessively critical of women instead of acknowledging the system in place that encourages women to feel the “need” to do things like that (even making it financially profitable, since, again, dating, marriage, and childrearing is an economic proposition for most women) and how that same system is why he had to overcome drug use himself, instead of having social support. Or why he’s still “ashamed” of that time in his life and wants to “move on”, versus acknowledging how it affected me, learning from it, and being able to speak to his experiences maturely, openly, and honestly. The conversation ultimately ended well, as I mentioned he is a Leo and while he acts impulsively and passionately, he can’t be universally critical of all women, publicly, and not expect me to call out his prior behavior and actions when that was MY experience with him. 

You simply can’t blame others when your (prior) actions around them paint a different picture for who you are than who you believe you are or who you want to be. 

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Change your behavior instead of blaming the other person for pointing out the consistencies year after year, interaction after interaction, when that’s all that THEIR interactions with you involve.

(Chloe from MTV’s Siesta Key could maybe remind herself of this so she doesn’t blame others who point it out, are suspicious, and let her know that you have to EARN trust and respect. You won’t just be granted it just because YOU decided that’s who you are “now”.)

Or just do what a lot of people do when confrontation arises and ignore it, convincing yourself the person acknowledging it is the problem instead of the actions (and long sequence of actions) that they had to be responsible for, because you weren’t.

I know stories of future politician’s sons sucking dick for cocaine (no shame with reference to either of these acts, either, just maybe don’t support the GOP if that’s the case) who still can’t understand the only difference in them doing this and someone from their hometown is that their social class is not being looked down upon for that behavior. Because of who their parents and family are.

I fucked a guy who CREATED HIS OWN DMT prior to hooking up (I bet he loves Joe Rogan) who is now in medical school. Ya girl has a biochemistry degree from a top 5 public university, so because he was well educated, white, and in a fraternity, this was fine. I walk into a room and see a beautiful set up of Erlenmeyer flasks, distillation techniques? The nostalgia. Brings me right back to orgo lab when my lab partner was so introverted and terrified of me, it took him over 2 months for him to actually speak. (I’ve always been aware of my effect on men.)

I actually think, had I smoked weed a little sooner, I would’ve done better in my biochem classes because it helps me visualize and genuinely understand the molecular basis for the interactions better. I can view the chemical reactions as art, my mind creating mental visuals of the text and photographs in a way that better helps me adjust for the way I learn with ADHD.

My grander point is that we view criminality differently based on the socioeconomic status and location it is occurring in and when we’re creating legislation, we really can’t do this. We also shouldn’t have such a lack of progressive federal reform that we have thousands of people still incarcerated for nonviolent marijuana offenses while Wall Streeters hold stock in those, now legal, industries. We also shouldn’t require you to leave your state in order to access a natural, herbal remedy you can grow yourself that is less dangerous and addictive than the federally legal drugs that treat the same symptoms.

Drugs and sex work have always overlapped in the eyes of the US government. 

I’m sure that would still continue with legalization, to some degree, though I currently can’t understand why certain stripclubs are required to NOT sell alcohol if full nudity is involved, and other states have BYOB laws. Saw a reddit comment recently that actually specified, with corporate growth in the USA, the main difference in townships is the nuance towards sex work, so if you REALLY want to experience the differences in states rights, to go to strip clubs in every town you visit. I’ll have to remember that.

 Penalties for drug and rape trafficking and violence towards women should be undeniably severe enough to deter such behavior–including involving castration or removal of reproductive and sexual abilities permanently for those who continue to do so. We have to make comprehensive sexual education the norm for that to be relevant, though, and not make your knowledge of this within a nation so subjective around the basis of outdated bullshit Republican ideologies that affect everyone within the state, but especially women, and negatively impact those who seek help. And if you think it is  “insane” to require forced vasectomies or medical castration, yet also will women, or children, to carry their rapist’s DNA to term, then you are protecting the abusers and not the victims. You don’t actually endorse bodily autonomy or public safety. 

One of my friends had her family stalked by an exotic dancer’s child who sought out her biological dad’s acknowledgement. (Her father had fucked a stripper, basically.) The terror and horror a teenage girl had to go through–including being worried about being targeted through potential gun violence over a decision her FATHER made YEARS ago is disgusting. And all that kid wanted was to find out why he was discarded.

If sexwork was legal, this could’ve easily been avoided through the terms of the contract. Children won’t grow up thinking they aren’t wanted, or were a property investment to “Secure the bag” (I’m looking at you–MTV’s Siesta Key subreddit because why the FUCK do you FLAUNT Alyssa for this? That is the grossest rhetoric in all.) There would be foundations created to financially support sexworkers who decided to keep the children if a tryst did result in pregnancy. Men wouldn’t be able to complain about women “tricking” them into the financial obligation of child support, all while simultaneously thinking buying a gal a $5 drink at a college bar of watered down vodka entitles you to sex and then not understanding the repercussions of casual sex.

Acting like it is solely the woman’s responsibility to have birth control while making women’s health second choice, inaccessible, expensive, and a burden to access or need accommodations for.

We should be paying anyone under the age of 30 to NOT have children. Yes, just like welfare. An incentive for NOT being baby machines (Gilead would NEVER.) And yes, women with multiple children on welfare should be required to undergo birth control/ medical procedures but we should also address worker’s rights and a living wage while we’re at it. And maybe require forced sterilization for men who impregnate multiple women without having the economic means of providing for potential children so they stop fucking breeding and acting like their genetics are a gift to the world. (We should also look into the regulations surrounding sperm and egg donation while we’re at it, because there is a lot of misdirection around the human breeding programs in the USA with less direction than the animal breeding programs governed by the USDA.)

As a reminder, when Colorado introduced IUD insertion for teenage girls without requiring parental consent, teen pregnancy dropped significantly.

Yet, last week the valedictorian of a Texas high school scrapped her graduation speech in favor of addressing the “heart beat bill” effectively banning abortion for all women in Texas.

 There were about 9 girls in my graduating class who, through religious indoctrination, felt it was their duty to carry those children to term. They were seen to have less potential for the decades of life they had left than an unborn mass of cells was seen. Another life became a “savior” for them–which MAY very well be true, but knowing the lack of access to healthcare and religious overtones in the area I grew up in is just sad. Time and time again, women become the burdens of society’s inability to account for them. They are told their lives are worthless, yet should revolve around bringing forth more life…a life that may actually “do” something… and that is the sole and main purpose intended for them. Even if you love your children, and you needed them, this is NOT fair in the modern age (nor was it fair ever). We are condemning women, teenage girls, children, to the misgivings and misdirection of their parents, claiming them to not be responsible enough to make their own decisions yet then bestowing upon them a nightmarish gift in that they should be responsible for the decisions and livelihood of another’s life.

And then we punish them when they don’t know what the fuck they’re doing.

When none of us know what the fuck we’re doing.

One of my friends didn’t know or show that she was pregnant until 4-5 months along and she is over 30 years old. We kayaked ten miles with her now small child just growing from a mass of cells in her uterus. She had a day or two of morning sickness, which she attributed to drinking, and frequently missed periods as is, so she literally DID NOT KNOW or have any indication she was pregnant. Thankfully, her and her boyfriend have been together for almost a decade now, so they were in a position where this wasn’t completely detrimental to their mutual wellbeing. And that child is being brought up in one of the most loving homes I’ve seen, with parents committed and cognizant of breaking the cycles they were subjected to.

A friend of mine has driven her best friend to the abortion clinic and paid for her abortion while they were both high schoolers in North Carolina. Actions she could be legally prosecuted for in the state of Texas, now. The same abortion clinic who protestors would park in my apartment complex’s lot, only to walk over and harass individuals seeking medical care. Could you imagine how quickly this would be reduced if those same protestors were outside condemning former president Donald Trump’s use of stem cell research as therapeutic treatment for coronavirus instead of holding candlelight vigils for his recovery and eagerly awaiting his decrepit parade of virulent exposure in armored vehicles because he got “bored” of his lavish hospital suite? This wouldn’t even have to be a discussion.

(33:37)

We shouldn’t have to exhaust resources and keep women in cycles of debt and violence because the law doesn’t protect them in any way and people are allowed to ignorantly and purposefully impose their spiritual idiocy onto others.

Women aren’t even taught or knowledgeable about our own bodies because they are framed as taboo and learning about them is met with negative connotation (in part because it exacerbates the reality of just how poor treatment of women in the USA is). Did you know that women who agree to allow medical students to partake in their care, in MANY states, are also (unknowingly) agreeing to unnecessary invasive procedures WHILE UNDER ANESTHESIA. And women, especially black women, weren’t given anesthesia for many procedures historically. Children even commonly weren’t numbed for suturing, in part because we just assumed they would “forget” or never realize this was NOT APPROPRIATE. This would NEVER be the case for how we treat fully grown, educated men.

 But women’s health is secondary to “health”. 

Women’s, sexual, reproductive, mental health is ultimately just “health”. And WHY would a country without universal healthcare want to appropriately frame “health” in any context if it requires diminished profit margins for shit “leaders” in our economy? We would NEVER sit there and tell people they’ve reached “peak physical health” and can just “stop” devoting time to work on it. That they shouldn’t prioritize it. That there isn’t nutrition, stretching, sleep, or SOMETHING they can improve upon even if they physically feel okay. 

We frame panic attacks and anxiety so negatively, so preventable, yet wouldn’t dare accuse someone who suffered an aneurysm or cardiac event from not “having done all they could”, ultimately just by assuming there are some things “out of your hands” and others “within your control”. Even though the very nature of why many people seek access for mental health is because others are imposing unhealthy behavior onto them that is beyond their control.

As long as it’s the government, we encourage and allow it to continue, though?

We don’t teach comprehensive health, not just comprehensive sexual health, because we keep individuals subservient to outdated conservative norms by not.

My friends and I were remarking on whether our skeletons are STILL changing–because we recently had to size up our clothes, yet our actual bodies haven’t really changed so much as our hips are getting wider. The only reason we even knew was because of 6 years of advanced schooling in a health degree and Mina sews her own clothes, so she measures herself, and could confirm that her hips are skeletally wider. But we shove 26 year olds with disordered eating on television screens to play high schoolers and expect the adolescents to connect that these are unrealistic beauty standards. We tax the shit out of feminine care products or just add it to the unreasonably marked up costs for women’s marketing, clothing, healthcare in general.

And even still, largely white men elected to Republican governments are allowed to impact legislation in a way that negatively affects women, all of the women, who may have been born into or live in the state they govern despite not believing their idiocy, all while simultaneously going to war on the basis of other culture’s treatment towards women. The hypocrisy is surreal. It’s actually maddening. It should not be allowed.

Leadership should be fucking better than that.

Kanye West wrote a song about women being nothing but gold diggers then married a woman who paid off $53 million in debt for him–money she made resulting from the legal nuances of largely pornographic work. Is it any different because she was dating the man in the video at the time?

Projection is a powerful bitch.

Karma is a bigger one.

(Can Kris Jenner be everyone’s momager, please?)

I went to the University of Florida for graduate school. I can tell you right now the “sugar baby”  lifestyle is huge, and common. ESPECIALLY amongst sorority women. The “cheap” end is $100-500 per hour of their time, many of which doesn’t involve or include sex at all. (I have a friend who is actually a married lesbian and she would go meet old white men in Orlando at the Cheesecake Factory and get $1000-1500 just to meet for dinner.) #RedistributeThatWealthGirllllllll

If your children are fucking men for hotel room spots or the potential for away and date weekends through their fraternities, that’s basically sexwork. (And all of your children are doing it.)

My best friend was invited to a fraternity formal in undergrad and the guy was disappointed that she was a virgin and LITERALLY SAID, “well, there goes my weekend.” This guy didn’t know her at all, he’d merely played a few games of beer pong against us, so I’m not sure why he thought she should inherently want to fuck him without knowing anything about him, but he still felt entitled to sex? (He was a “nice” guy too because he didn’t uninvite her or sexually coerce her.)

Had another gal friend get flown out to Israel to visit a guy she was talking to there, who paid for half her plane ticket. Sexwork. 

(38:18)

Dating is the premise to marriage and marriage is undeniably an economic proposition in the United States. With that being the case, how can we dare to condemn sex work?

Drake said if he drops $10k on a gal to not think anything of it and I’m just tryna find a man to buy me the new Joah Brown and Alo Yoga clothing collections.

All we do is make life more difficult for women by pretending like sexwork isn’t or shouldn’t be legal.

At age 18, I was supposed to be tasked with escorting an Australian diplomat’s 26 year old son around Washington, D.C. for a weekend. Because I wasn’t getting paid, I was expected to be thankful for “the opportunity”. I refused to do so, because I found it creepy that a 26 year old would ever want to hang out with an 18 year old, however “innocently” and couldn’t fathom what I would be able to talk about. I would rather go to the museums myself, thank you very much. At 28, I find it creepier in the current societal context. My mom has a 10+ year age gap between her and her siblings, though, (as she was an “accident” born in Italy while my grandfather was stationed overseas) and is 12 years younger than my stepfather, so the potential for a future marriage or romantic compatibility wasn’t considered negatively in the same way formal sexwork is viewed. Because of the legality of the contract.

My piece of shit ex had a groupchat with “him and the boys” (this is the Orlando CPA with multiple degrees who now manages his own Fidelity related firm and raped me in my sleep) where his male friends, including ones with girlfriends they are now engaged/married to, asked HIM if they should “stop in Gainesville and service [me]” when I was emotionally conflicted about our relationship and not interested in sex while I was working through that. 

A few years ago, I had another guy that I regularly hooked up with from UF who, when I was in Tampa for a gals trip weekend, hit me up. We regularly sexted, exchanged nudes, and had been doing so for years with plenty of shared sexual chemistry and experiences previously. He got a hotel room, since he lived at home, fucked me and came in about a minute. (His sex tape would’ve been a tik tok), and then he left (which I later found out was to go on a date with his now-girlfriend who I only found out about after he finally posted her a YEAR into their relationship while he was STILL in contact with me.) I wouldn’t have cared as much if I had been paid, to be honest. But him leaving me there made me so worried about whether I was being filmed, secretly, whether his excessive neatness and minimalist lifestyle was a predisposition to his original plans of actually murdering me there, to which he may have chickened out. I felt so used and disgusted. Because that isn’t what I signed up for.

If you wonder why every woman knows another woman who has been raped, but men seem to not know any rapists, it’s because it’s not enough of a reason for them to distance themselves from them. It’s because they excuse the behavior. It’s because they themselves know or remember instances of murky territory that condemning their friends might highlight and they’re aware themselves of just how at risk they are for the same “accusations” which comes down to not being aware of or respecting other people’s personal boundaries.

…Yet sexwork is still illegal and women commonly aren’t able to report events when they happen because of the legal nuances and discrepancy around consent and evidence. Comprehensive sexual education isn’t required. 

Yet women, people coming forward years later, are the ones being “dramatic”.

When I was 21, I worked at MD Anderson in Houston, Texas doing advanced stage head & neck and thoracic oncological work. I was working 14 hour days of unpaid research “experience”, which was a great opportunity, but nevertheless involved me staying at my biological dad’s friend’s house and being in a very tight spot financially. This friend, a man in his late 30’s (maybe early 40’s at the time), was dating a 23 year old with a slender bodily build and long blonde hair, much like my own, who would not let him stay at the house with me because she felt threatened. I did not know he was dating someone so similar to me, physically, until I was there. I don’t think I would’ve felt comfortable, had I known–even if he had given me his BMW to drive, had a pool with a motor so you could swim laps in place, and I received free lodging. She had fake, large tits though (and I do not), so he saw her as more “sexually mature”. A “very different age”. Because she was coerced by the beauty industry and media representation for women to cater and prioritize physical appearance and comfort for the male gaze, not for her own beneficial wellbeing. That was a “good” thing, to him.

While we’re on the subject of Texas–you’re not allowed to own more than 6 dildos but stripclubs are free for alls because “god forbid” we include government legislation like those in the DMV (DC, Maryland, Virginia) which involve pasties (not complete nudity), not being able to touch without clear consent, and allow women to engage in this line of work in healthier and safer contexts where they can actually report violations and have security.

Don’t know why lack of government regulations has to kill so many people before we just simply stop allowing it and allowing people to abuse public government positions of “power”, but we’re still not investigating the fucking insurrection and attempt to dismantle democracy so fuck your ethics.

I was paraded around military bases before I was 18 years old, beating marines and navy seals in physical competitions just to “prove women could”. Military men who were interested in my eventual “coming of marriage age” status to be able to make a formal proposition, waited patiently and were seen as “noble”.

Men in general still embrace the antiquated idea of asking fathers for their daughter’s hand in marriage, before they even ask the woman herself, because the priority of a woman’s sovereignty is never for it to be her own. 

Considering marriage–It might strike you as shocking, but I can’t WAIT for the day I get to take my husband’s last name. To get rid of my biological father’s? Fucking RIGHT. Sign me up. I actually considered going back to my mother’s maiden name, and the only reason I haven’t yet is I have published research in Nature, a huge scientific publication, and it would be annoying to have to reference 3 names I went by on tax and legal documentation for the rest of my life. A small gift for whatever man dares the risk and lives a lifetime of partnership with me. A token of my gratitude. A truly progressive gal.

(44:33)

To summarize my issues with the current illegality of sexwork, I’d like to pose the following scenarios for you:

In a country where women in the workforce is at a 33 year all time low, in part because a pandemic required the “burden” of childcare to fall largely onto women, who also happen to make up the majority of the educator’s workforce (glorified babysitting in the public school sector for less than $35,000 per year), as 76% are female, how dare we condemn a profession aimed at reducing sexual repression and meeting the sexual needs, healthy needs, of others and allows redistribution of wealth into female pockets. (Which we all know they want to keep from us in a variety of literary contexts, anyways.)

In a country that has not ratified the U.N.’s Convention on the Elimination of All Forms of Discrimination Against Women, despite having been involved with drafting that legislation, and openly criticizing and engaging in warfare with Iran, Sudan, and Somalia–other countries where we criticize the lack of progressive legislation directed at women empowerment specifically, it’s a bit hypocritical.

In a country where child marriage is allowed, even though the vast extent of those involve girls being “allowed” to marry their rapists, as the majority of those cases involve older men preying on TEENAGERS. CHILDREN. YOUNG GIRLS. Where parents can make those decisions for female children and we can force young girls to be responsible for another’s life yet not allow them to dictate their own, this should be criminal.

In a country where my boyfriend, a junior in a top 5 public university at the time, was allowed to specifically vocalize that he was “clean”, even though he had never had ANY kind of sexual health testing, engaged in numerous sexual encounters without protection of any kind, and people under the age of 24 account for over 60% of chlamydia diagnoses, half of gonorrhea diagnoses, and over 80% show no symptoms, and then would have had no repercussions of any kind after he cheated on me and AGAIN exposed me, nonconsensually, to yet again MORE STD’s, we make women ashamed for calling it out. THOSE men don’t even have to get tested. They can literally be prescribed the pill because you tested positive (which is a good thing, healthcare wise), without ever visiting the doctor or receiving their own formal positive test or sexual education. The burden and responsibility falls and remains on those, the few, who are already responsible instead of creating a more responsible society.

We make it difficult, if not impossible, for women to trust men.

At this rate, YES, I am ALL FOR agreeing to a set amount or fee for dating, sexual acts with appropriate testing, a legal system that will support me should I (and the terms of our contract) be violated, ALL FOR THIS. I’d honestly feel safer dating if I wasn’t constantly worried about being yelled at for not being more emotionally invested, if somebody was accountable for my location and company, if I could perform background checks on these STRANGERS, if friendliness wasn’t so uncommon it might be misconstrued as “interest”.

YES, YOU CAN DATE ME FOR MONEY YOU JUST MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO AFFORD ME. SLIDE IN THOSE DM’S. PAY MY BILLS. JUST RECOGNIZE MY RIGHT AS A GOD DAMN AMERICAN TO REFUSE SERVICE TO ANYONE, AT ANY TIME, FOR ANY REASON.

Isn’t that what you conservatives fight to defend, so much?

That moment in Holes when Sigourney Weaver’s fucking BEAUTY of the character “The Warden” in a childhood flashback comes on, and that little girl drops her shovel, stomps her foot, and is all, “I’m tired of digging! Grandpa!” Well, I am fucking tired of working and existing for the collective societal benefit of seemingly everyone other than myself and not be paid for it. I am tired of my body being used and appreciated by everybody else, but the second I recognize its worth and appreciate it myself, veiled comments on needing to be “humbled” emerge from the bitter dredges of jealousy. 

In the only “high income” country that does not require paid parental leave, we essentially punish women (and families) for the choice to have kids yet also demand a working class supply of labor to exploit instead of the goal being less labor and better working hours for all.

In a country simultaneously enacting legislation that prevents widespread access to birth control, comprehensive sexual education, and allows these decisions to be made for human beings without their consent, based on religious affiliation they do not agree to, partake in, or actually understand or believe in, what the FUCK happened to “separation of church and state”?

In a country where the wealthiest, those involved in making said very legislation, have been proven time and time again to be involved in rape trafficking, or can hop on their private flights and access legal sexwork elsewhere (including with children)–why would we allow them to be the morality police?

In a country where law enforcement agrees to “look the other way” as long as they are allowed to partake in the sexwork, which is effectively sexual coercion. (Approximately 34 states still allow law enforcement to have sexual relations with detainees.) And a WOMAN , a judge CURRENTLY SITTING ON THE SUPREME COURT, ruled that a city was not liable for damages to a raped teenage prisoner because “rape wasn’t in the official job description” for the guard–do we have to specifically outline this as disallowed in employment contracts moving forward?

In a country that ranks 49TH of 142 applicable countries in gender equality (based on the World Economic Forum’s Gender Gap Index) yet continues to devalue local community positions, punishes people who seek higher or better education through the ever-increasing cost of PUBLIC education and student loans (making it nearly impossible for those to return to the communities they left), and makes being a shitty person more profitable because “health” is undermined in every level under capitalism. 

In a country where over 1 in every 4 women is raped (or attempted), where the norm is sexual violence and harassement, who the fuck are we protecting by keeping sexwork illegal? Surely not the thousands of children rape trafficked through the foster care network?

In a country whose DECREPIT HEALTHCARE SYSTEM and refusal to just fucking MOVE TO UNIVERSAL HEALTHCARE has us ranked LAST of the “industrialized” nations for healthcare system performance, yet healthcare workers themselves have to worry about their salaries being depleted (instead of companies involved in tobacco or alcohol having to pay more corporate tax) and stupid fucking white GOP dick suckers on the internet insist that “America is the best country in the world” without recognizing that “the America’s” is TWO CONTINENTS. “America” isn’t even a fucking country. Claiming only US citizens are “american” is ignorance at its FINEST.

In a country where that very same healthcare system is allowed to prey on the insecurity of largely women, via plastic surgery and medical spas, overlapping with the beauty industry, without requiring mental health evaluations or access to mental health services of any kind or asking why so many women, including teenagers, are allowed to make life altering procedural decisions, all while not ensuring they have access to actual healthcare, nutrition and affordable healthy food options, safe recreational areas.

What the FUCK are we doing keeping sex work illegal?

Who the fuck are you protecting?

Just a reminder, this episode is for the Red River Women’s Clinic, if you’d like to donate you can access it here: http://www.redriverwomensclinic.com. Thank you all for the support, reading, listening and interest. My main marketing is through word-of-mouth, so I really appreciate anyone sharing it, publicly or privately. You can follow me on instagram @zedagrace, especially if you like functional fitness and what I can only describe as the “soul cycle” of yoga. Movement is medicine. Have a wonderful week.

SOURCES:

https://nces.ed.gov/programs/coe/indicator/clr

https://www.citizen.org/article/dead-last-u-s-health-care-system-continues-to-rank-behind-other-industrialized-countries/

https://coloradosun.com/2019/10/21/colorado-abortion-rates-keep-declining-free-iuds-and-easier-access-to-the-pill-are-the-reason/

https://nypost.com/2021/06/03/texas-valedictorian-paxton-smith-slams-abortion-ban-in-speech/

https://www.the-sun.com/lifestyle/1471708/suicide-death-prison-porn-stars/

https://www.rollingstone.com/culture/culture-features/death-of-a-porn-star-201939/

https://www.redbled.com/dead-pornstars/

White Culture: LOTR The Fellowship of the Ring

Survival Mode
White Culture: LOTR The Fellowship of the Ring
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I write this with the pessimistic swaddling of Natalie Imbruglia’s “Torn” enshrouding me in its sorrow while I watch the sunset across the farm and wonder if life is just going to be wondering if this is all there is and whether it’ll ever feel like “enough” to just be “happy”, when I’m aware of what goes on in the world.

I got to visit the bat houses in Gainesville and soak in the shared love of an epidemiology friend’s presence recently, who just separated herself from a long term relationship-turned-friendship, and I wanted to share a few sentiments we covered:

  • Those of us who have blocked out years of childhood abuse, or familial memories, have been able to access therapy or have spent hours of free time running in contemplation, good for you.
    I’m glad I’m not the only fierce science gal who was accused of “emotional manipulation” from the very source they learned it from.
  • Men are arguably another species. Whether they will ever make their intentions clear, unmistakeable, nonsecretive, who knows. Just remind yourself that solo cat ladies tend to live wonderfully great qualities of life and queer and homosexual traits potentially arise to offer care from (typically) nonreproductive members of a species when the reproductive members are providing the babies/offspring/future generations with less than quality care.
    Happy pride month.
  • Humanity is the only primate known to abuse its offspring to the point of less viable reproductive futures. The study of everything revolves around our concept for “normalcy” or “standard” behavior. Some “reference”.

    How dare we condemn other country’s and culture’s behavior, because of the “more” atrociously grotesque human rights violations, while simultaneously dismissing those within our own borders.

Without further adieu, I’ll go into my reconstruction of The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring. Pretty sure I watched the extended cut on HBO Max. For the record, one of my absolute favorite movie and book series of all time, though I was a bit young for the language of the books when the movies with Elijah Woods first came out. (AKA: I watched the movies first and only read the books later.) As a horse gal, there weren’t many movies that utilize horses, and LOTR obviously included a ton, so I naturally loved it. Sue me. 

Galadriel opens up the narrative with the backstory on the one ring to rule them all and forewarning us that “the race of men…who above all else…desire power.”

Ya no fucking shit. Look at literally any guy in a fraternity getting cut off, kicked out of a bar, questioned at the door, turned down by a girl. They take everything like a personal attack and those of us who never doubted our places as peasants just get annoyed because all you’re doing is making everyone else’s lives shittier. 

Anyways, a last alliance of men and elves “fought for the freedom of middle earth”. Isildor, the son of a king, took up his fallen daddy’s sword at the very moment hope was seemingly lost and like the good buzzer beater moment that I’ve been on both the giving and receiving end of as a Tar Heel fan, Sauron’s wedding ring got cut off and he was defeated.

All I’m saying is if my next boyfriend doesn’t dress up as all of the villains in these movies and try to “defeat” me, we’re not fucking.

In a move that doesn’t surprise any woman ever, the “hearts of men are easily corrupted” and “history became legend. Legend became myth.” and the National Treasure style plot of medieval witchy conspiracy theories on power and quests and the history of mankind began.

Bilbo is the first hobbit we’re introduced to–noted as “the most unlikely creature of all” (which you would ONLY use to describe what will turn out to be the most notable creature of all), human “esque”, a “little weird”–so basically he is the black sheep of every southern family who wants to live peacefully away from everybody but knows far too much. Hobbits, in general, are described as “of little importance” except for their love of food, ale, and pipeweed and thus, the natural disposition for US citizens everywhere to see themselves represented amongst the mole people of the Shire. 

Gandalf, the wizard, is naturally a “disturber of peace”.

It’s almost like being “interesting” and “mythically wacky” is a universal negative. “Difficult”. Thank goodness we’re in the age of Wicked. Maleficent. Cruella. Harley Quinn. Backstories do a gal some good.

Shout out to my best friend, who was not allowed to watch Harry Potter until her 18th birthday (because of witchcraft) but was allowed to hang out with me. 

Frodo is the orphaned hobbit who deserves everything Bilbo can possibly give him. The farm people, true to form, explain how “it is never our concern what goes on beyond our borders” which is rural people to a Tee. Everyone’s a bit rough around the edges. An alcoholic. Got a temper. 

The ring, which I’ve alluded to in episodes past, specifically to reference the act of giving head, performing “fellatio”, sucking dick, whatever you wanna call it, “always yearns to return to its master” and I’ve also read 50 Shades of Grey… they’re NOT wrong.

That analogy holds even for my allusion.

And as we see Margot Robbie pout in Birds of Prey,
a harlequin is nothing without her master.”

This rhetoric is followed by Gollum being tortured in bondage gear which really frames the BDSM context.

Frodo gets that distorted hyperfocus of ominous foreshadowing, clamors to “get off the road”, and we get the dementor sensation of the black riders, symbolizing death through how the worms emerged from the soil, awakened in its presence. 

After Sam, Frodo, Pippin, and Merry successfully make it to The Prancing Pony, Pippin of course is running his little mouth, despite KNOWING what is after him, and Aragorn enters the realm. 

Aragorn, arguably the prime example of non-toxic masculinity in 2021, asks Frodo “are you frightened?” UGH. SO HOT. Legalize sexwork so I can have a fellowship of Aragorn and Legolas take me in the forest of Lothlorien. Then Viggo Mortensen follows it up with “not nearly frightened enough?” DADDY. Fucking amazing. 

Aragorn explains about the black riders, or Nazgûl, in depth–how they were men dominated by greed and now live a life of limbo in darkness. The 4 plus Aragorn then go on their lil journey to the elves and we see a recurring theme in M & P (Merry & Pippin’s) concern for food, as well as what little bitch boys they are crying about wading through a little bit of swampy water and mud with bug bites. Get these hobbits to Vietnam. Or trekking whatever bus routes our grandparents supposedly took to get to school. 

This entire section of the plot just reminds me of the movie “Role Models”, which, as someone who has gone larping exactly 1 time, I’m just gonna say ya’ll are missing out. I bet series like this are fun as fuck to film and anyone with a penis is arguably obsessed with any “Sword” symbolism so don’t act like you’re “above” medieval lore. 

Liv Tyler enters the scene, reminding us that, as great of a man as Aragorn may be, he is starstruck in wonder by women, the “ranger caught off his guard” that he is.

Here’s my episode reminder that our societal disdain for sexwork is related to the way sexuality has coercively been used in warfare to gain intelligence. 

The ringwraiths look like the fucking mighty ducks chasing her stoically white horse up in this bitch, and jumping over ONE cross country log isn’t going to impress me. I used to do eventing schooling all over the Northeastern USA on my 12.2 hand pony. 

Now also seems like a FANTASTIC time to remind everyone that LOTR wouldn’t exist without the fucking women because Arwen saved the day.

She does that whole “what grace has given me, let it pass to him” spiritual praying and he recovers from his coma.

A gradual theme of men being weak emerges.

The race of men are scattered, with only one hope to unite them (a white man, of course).

Frodo complains about the “burden he should never have had to bear” but as an orphan with a pretty nice inheritance, I mean… ya eventually you were gonna have to do some work?? Not sure what you expected there, buddy.

Boromir is boyishly fascinated by the “blade that cut the ring”, whereas Aragorn is respectfully mindful (setting the scene for parallels in their behavior later.)

Arwen’s witchy elvish ass comes back out to warn Aragorn about not being bound to Isildor’s fate, about him facing the same evil, but choosing a different route, about meeting him and Aragorn “thinking he had strayed into a dream.” (Beyonce’s “Sweet Dreams” where she speaks on the man being either a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare came into my head–take that as you will… I think I’M more of the “Halsey” “No sweet dream but I’m a hell of a night” type of gal, myself.) Arwen chooses to share one lifetime with Aragorn rather than face all of the ages of life alone and just fucking spare me. I am tired of the love stories. I am tired of men in general thinking keeping something your “dirty little secret” is our goal? LOL. NO.

Also, Boromir asks them to USE THE RING, to GIVE IT TO GONDOR, and then they STILL let him tag along on this little fellowship quest? RED FLAG.

What the fuck are you? A bull? CHARGING THOSE FLAGS DOWN LIKE IT’S YOUR JOB?
The fellowship just set themselves up for this. 

We finally get Orlando Bloom as Legolas’ fine ass on screen and all I have to say is if he was your favorite character, you are bisexual. Heteroflexibility should be the default anyways.

Also Tom Hardy, who is arguably the hottest man in Hollywood to me, is notoriously open about his sexual fluidity. Can we stop acting like this behavior is novel to celebrity culture and Hollywood only and recognize that queer folk are in your normal communities? 

Gimli, of course, has to throw off the fellowship talk with the firm “I would die before I see the ring in the hands of an elf” talk and the racial themes and eugenics tones get highlighted. 

M&P remark on “needing people of intelligence on this quest” and the creation of the fellowship is only what I can describe as the beginner of any Survivor series, or the Bachelor or Bachelorette, where the entirety of the cast is introduced, and you can just TELL who is going to go home first. This is how you can tell I wasn’t in charge of sending these creatures off to slaughter in the framework of its pages.

Gandalf sits on those rocks, reminding me of the mountains I scaled in Arizona, and the flights of birds, “spies of Saruman”–seems like a great time to reiterate that American crows can recognize and remember human faces, hold grudges, and pass on whatever epigenetic alteration that grudge solidified to its offspring.

Boromir keeps making little cuntish remarks and only men can ignore that many red flags for behavior and excuse it under “friendship”. 

Saruman calling upon his spirits and energy forces reminds me a little bit of myself doing yoga, and I’m gonna have to start channeling this energy in the future. I already wanted to make “cloaks” and willowy silhouettes my next aesthetic, seems a logical leap. 

The fellowship encounters that squid like creature and I’m sure there’s been a ton of rule 34 tentacle porn commissioned out there. I’ll paint a gigantic portrait with my 4’ canvases. Hire me to do it. There is literally nothing I would rather spend my time doing.

I’m actually excessively annoyed the “Strider” in my life won’t just ask me to move in with him so I can spend my days planting a garden of creepy or eerily cool plants in his retro home already, but my friend Citroni says I’m being “unrealistic” expecting that and “crazy”.

I never gave a damn about society’s norms before, and I know I’d be happy.
Sue me. But fiiiine. I’ll be “patient”.

Back to the subject of giant squids–have ya’ll realized what kind of shit is in our ocean? (Apart from gallons of hazardous waste and pollution.) The deep sea is TERRIFYING. Blue whales are the largest mammals on the planet and we can’t even track their migration or reproductive cycles because they dive beyond depths our instruments can comprehend. 

We then hear all the tragic overlays of Bilbo saying he “wished the ring had never come to him” and I wish this patriarchal world wasn’t lacking such progressive reform, but unfortunately this is the nature of the world we live in.

Existence is pain. Mr. Meseeks had it right. 

Gimli laments over the deaths of all the graves of the dwarves in Moria and naturally, one half of M&P knocks something over, royally fucking over the party and the “drums from the deep” can be heard as orcs attack. I wondered if this was the same animation used for the troll in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, because the goblin orc creature who stabs Frodo looks very similar to the troll that went after Hermione in the bathroom. Technology that isn’t developed for the military is often developed for private industry, but particularly the entertainment industry, and works like James Cameron’s Avatar had equipment designed to allow the imaginations of the film creators to be fulfilled. Truly fascinating development in innovation.

Creation for the love of art, rather than destruction.

Right as I’m admiring how busy the costume designers and makeup teams must have been, between all of the orcs, elves, hobbits, whoever,

Legolas once more graces our screens and everything else fades as I’m reminded that we get to exist in the same timeline as Orlando Bloom as Legolas.
Whatever kind of doom awaits us in the future, this should be enough for now.

The bridges and staircases that collapse around the fellowship is exactly why I don’t fuck with infrastructure or construction.

Aragorn once again turns us all on with the turn of his cloak and the pivoting of his booted heels as they try to escape.

Gandalf has his big moment. The balrog cracking that whip like the guy from iron man with those electric whip thingies for arms. 

We learn that orcs are numerous, but fucking horrible at archery because they miss every shot at Aragorn’s plot armour. They really should’ve practiced–how are you THAT bad at aiming? 

A terrible tragedy, Gandalf’s disappearance, but I could watch Viggo Mortensen jump across puddles all day long. They can’t waste time mourning his assumed death, for the “elf witch”, a “great sorceress of terrible power” awaits them in Lothlorien.

What do I have to say about these elves? Every single one of them could fuck me.

Legalize sex work. Imagine a LOTR style brothel? The Witcher? Game of Thrones?

Goddammit my next boyfriend does not deserve me and my multiple personalities.

All I want is to live my days in the sunshine, cultivating a garden around beautiful trees like that. A little witchy sorceress.

I had a previous aversion to beaded gowns because of the association with weddings, but what I’m getting from the elves is that every day is a special occasion.
Wear the fucking dress.

Galadriel is just the LOTR version of Professor Trelawney, for what it’s worth.
Her beautiful mystique and prophecies? 

Her little speech to Frodo about “even the smallest person could change the course of the future?” Ugh if I was in marketing, I’d have commercials for using reusable grocery bags, metal straws, refillable water bottles overlaid with that quote. Galadriel walked so Greta Thundberg could run. 

Hmm. Not sure how I feel about the handprints on these orcs. Are these supposed to be digs at Native Americans? Or indigenous “savages” that white European colonialists brought nothing but destruction and famine to? Am I about to hate this movie because I just recognized that? 

Galadriel is who I want to be. An ethereal witchy elf of the woods. She mysteriously appears and magically bestows gifts upon others. She seemingly knows all about their mysterious quests and thinks generationally. 

I want Legolas to look at me like he looks at that bow.

Hell, I want anyone to look at me like Legolas looks at that bow.

(JK, not “anyone” but men whose affection I appreciate, sure.)

I like how Gimli asked Galadriel for a single blonde hair from her head and she gave him 3. What a move. This is like one of my little sixth graders who stood behind me and would hover his hand over my hair, because he’d “never seen hair like it before”. (It was a very awkward phone call to his mother to discuss his behavior.)

Also, I don’t know why Gimli was complaining. He CLEARLY knew what kind of journey he was signing up for if he’s listing all of the horrors. He’s just doing this to scare the hobbits which is never good, though I’m not advocating for continued naivety. 

Kinda sus how Boromir just time and time again ignores the concept of “no”. Now I understand why men on the internet deemed him “relatable”. OOOOkay.

And Frodo being scared of Aragorn because of the trauma with Boromir?
RELATABLE. Put it in a way that men can fucking understand. 

I can never separate M&P (or which one is which), but I love being reminded of the “not penny’s boat” guy from LOST. What a show. It actually made way more sense years later when I binge watched it, because there wasn’t as much time between episodes and the questions got answered in shorter duration (without creating just as many, if not more). 

The orcs storming this lil wooded area kinda reminds me of that insurrection at the Capitol.

Someone wanna tell me why the fuck Donald Trump is giving speeches or leisurely relaxing in his mansion instead of being “handled” by Huck or any other member of B-613 in Shonda Rhimes’ Scandal? Was it not normal for everyone to think their biological father reminded them of Olivia Pope’s? Just me? Cool. 

Am I supposed to be “sad” about Boromir’s death, though? Why? This dude fucking sucked. Death was literally the only noble move he could’ve had left and sacrificing himself was redemption. This is how recruiters treat potential enlistments for our military. The trick is to get them to not fear death so much that they avoid it, but rather to charge it down, head on, and know the only way is “through”. 

“Frodo’s fate is no longer in our hands.” Lol. okay? Men are idiots. 

To sum it up, watching The Fellowship of the Ring high was great. I need to start paying attention to the shows I watch instead of brainstorming abstract foreign policy or recalling random warfare strategy for “fun”.

This should 100% be considered foreplay for my next relationship, because it definitely turned me on.

“All you have to decide is what to do with the time that’s given to you” and time is relative, so figure out a perception you like and make that bitch surreal. 

The Sexual Psychology of Fetishes: A Dissertation

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The Sexual Psychology of Fetishes: A Dissertation
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Alright alright alright, I don’t really know how to introduce this topic in any way that won’t make me giggle, but I’m getting into my theory on the sexual psychology of fetishes. We’ll do a brief overview of introductory psych, including introducing some big names like FREUD and dabbling in our favorite Greek Mythology with Oedipus. (Did I just give you flashbacks to high school history class? Good.) Then, we’ll pass the seven levels of the candy cane forest…past the sea of swirly twirly gumdrops… jk but I will speak anecdotally on my own information both from the unfortunate instances I’ve tried online dating and my personal private actual real life–in which men feel very comfortable telling me their sexual fantasies and fetishes. I’m not here to judge. I’m a scientist baby, I am FASCINATED by some of you. As long as you don’t creep ME out and direct it towards me in gross demeanors, learning about the strange facets of humanity’s sexual variance is truly the 8th wonder of the world. 

A Brief Psych Background

Psychology is an emerging field in western medicine and particularly American medicine, as our narrative and focus on psychology involves conflation of biological warfare and military development. *The CIA and geopolitical bias surrounding the Cold War and framing of the USSR, Eugenics, and democracy versus communism has entered the chat.* However, it can be traced back to ancient Greece in 400-500 B.C. (Think Socrates, Plato, Aristotle and great philosophers who pondered the mind). 

Sigmund Freud (1856-1939), the pioneer of psychoanalysis, introduced theories of psychosexual development and sexually confusing relationships based on parental figures. 

In the 1890’s, a Russian physiologist, Ivan Pavlov, used dog salivation to denote “Pavlovian”, or classical, conditioning showed two unrelated stimuli could easily (and relatively simply) become linked to produce a “learned response”. 

Operant Conditioning, developed by behaviorist B.F Skinner, utilized external, observable behavioral causes over internal thoughts and motivation. It involves associative learning, in which the association between a behavior and consequence (which can be negative or positive) occurs. 

You truly cannot tell me if the porn industry was dominated by women we wouldn’t already have conditioned men to cook, to unload the dishwasher, to put the toilet seat down, to clean the house, any basic household tasks or emotional support for sexual favors or interest. This is a simple technique I use on boyfriends. I reward or repeat desirable behaviors until they become second-nature. In society, lack of accountability with reference to a lot of issues, but definitely violence towards women, is likely the reason it continues. We are operantly conditioning men to not believe there are consequences for their (potentially dangerous) actions which harm others. 

As a reminder, before we get into it–never fake an orgasm. The men do not need to think they “did a good job” if they did not. This is the participation trophy of sex.

Cut it out. Sex doesn’t “always” have to end in orgasms of one party or the other, either. It doesn’t need to be some finish line or end goal if it’s not happening and you don’t need to feel guilty for it. 

Neurotransmitters are chemical substances that are released at the end of nerve fibers because of nerve impulses diffusing across a synapse (aka: enough stimulation has been reached for action potential propagation). These are the chemicals that relay messages throughout our bodies regarding nerve sensation.

All the nerves in your body eventually travel up through the spinal cord to some extent and into your brain. The spinal cord and brain together make up the central nervous system, as your spinal cord’s biophysical purpose is moving nerves from the motor cortex of the body (physical sensation) to sensory cortex (mental reception) and is involved with reflex coordination.

The Foot Fetish (4:50)

Speaking of reflexes, does anyone else have trouble sitting still when the people giving you a pedicure go to scrub the soles of your feet? I can never help but giggle and brace myself so I don’t kick them. 

On that note, the first one we’re gonna start out nice and strong with is the good ole foot fetish. This fetish has been around in pop culture and mainstream media since the 1950’s at least, though we know humanity is weird and if Lord of the Flies type of shit used to (still) happens on the regular, then thinking about people getting off to some toes seems remarkably reasonable.

I mean there are some humans who are racist…

don’t judge yourself for sucking on some toes.

Alright, first off, let’s look at the beautiful anatomy of the feet. As someone with monkey toes who can pick up things after years of gripping a beam in gymnastics, pushing off for high jump or hurdles, kicking soccer balls–my feet are rather beautiful works of art. I have a few scars from when I broke a mirror and hid it in my closet so I wouldn’t get in trouble…A great plan until I forgot it was there, stepped on it whilst playing hide and seek, and now it can be used to identify my body if one day someone murders me for my feet. Maybe I should make an OnlyFans and insure them like some surgeons insure their hands. Ludacris told me to shake my money maka a long time ago but what if your money makers more so “dangle” at the end of your limbs? This isn’t a joke. Men have paid me for strange things in this lifetime. A gal’s gotta pay her bills and grad school was expensive. 

Thus, naturally, I get a lot of instagram DMs requesting feet pics. 

Now, DO I think my feet pics will one day be my Kim Kardashian sex tape? Maybe.

Do I think it’ll more so be used by men who consume it on the internet then try to say it devalues my opinion or education on completely unrelated things? Most likely. 

Foot fetishism is “the most common form of sexual fetish for otherwise non-sexual objects or body parts”. (Wikipedia). Sigmund Freud, an Austrian neurologist who founded psychoanalysis (I think he would’ve loved to meet me, personally) was born to Jewish parents, which is probably why Christians villify sexuality and all of psychology in general as “witch magic”. Those good ole racist undertones of the American education system that you don’t realize overlap with the framing and focus of our education and general curriculum. 

Freud coined several novel psychoanalytical terms. Most of which can be summarized in the following chart: 

That whole “butt stuff 2020” or whatever year it was? That wasn’t novel. Men are fucking children and love to put their penis wherever they can. Those little squishy toys you’d get from Rainforest Cafe basically prepared our whole generation to give handjobs from childhood. Ringpops, push pops, and popsicles in general? Taught us how to suck on some dicks. Which I love to do. In one of my “Amanda Please” episodes, I discuss giving head like you are the one ring to rule them all. Men look at you as you take their cock into your mouth with the same frantic and primal admiration and desire that the ring had over everybody. Plus, penises are like bread and they have emulsifying agents that cause it to rise. It is very easy to tell when you’re at least doing a decent job. Negating erectile dysfunction, mental barriers, or even depression medication which affects libido significantly (which ya’ll shoulda remembered from Sex and the City)

I get why vaginas must be terrifying to men. Like, if a woman’s nipples are hard, she might just be cold. I have a fairly low body fat percentage on my chest and I don’t retain any weight in my upper body so my nipples can cut diamonds most of the time. Don’t take that to mean shit. And I’m typically a “Class Five West Virginia Rapids” type of super soaker if you’re doing at least a decent job. If you’re not, you essentially just need to sit there and let me enjoy myself first because you’ll get off after me. The orgasm gap is real, and I’ve spent my whole life bridging it because ya girl is an equestrian and the men are replaceable if they can’t also mentally captivate me. I’m getting sidetracked, but unless a woman is communicating with you, I have no doubt it must be fucking TERRIFYING to know if you’re doing the “right” thing. And if you’re lucky enough to have more than one serious girlfriend in life, you’ll realize everybody is different. Their bodies react differently to different sensations. They prefer different pressures. They are stimulated by different ideas, maneuvers, mentality. 

And most of sex education in the united states frames sex as something a man “does” to the woman. The Christian conservative overlap in that, because most of the textbooks for the American education system are developed by a religious company out of the South apparently, makes it so men don’t even REALIZE they’re supposed to think about another person’s feelings half the time. 

I told my friend Molly’s very Catholic, but very sweet, roommate (who was of the belief that sex work should be illegal because she’s sad anyone has to “resort” to that), that the same reason she’s complaining about all the “nice guys” from dating apps she’s meeting thinking dinner entitles them to sex immediately (she’s waiting until marriage, so obviously this ain’t her thing), that they do this because prostitution is illegal. That they would never be able to AFFORD the women they think they could get if prostitution was legal. And they’d realize, if we also help close the economic gender gap, that if they don’t offer the mental side of relationships, and an actually mentally competent partnership, they’re really not any better than dildos and at least with dildos we aren’t at risk for STD’s.

Speaking of, did you know in Texas you can’t own more than 6 dildos. It’s illegal.

But apparently insurrection isn’t.

And the death penalty for abortion isn’t.

Who woulda thought. 

Honestly, if prostitution was legal, it would probably give the nerds and actual good guys more confidence because they’d just hire sex workers to help them get over their insecurities tied to being “late bloomers”. Look at Elon Musk, that dude definitely gets his ass licked and absolutely loves it. I guarantee you we have watched the same alien space gangbang porn. The fetish culture porn is typically better screenplays and production quality. It’s probably a good thing I was never a theatre geek. Imagine how much worse I’d be if I was confident performing in crowds. 

Private shows are my thing, though. I loved having two dancers try to undress me in E11even in Miami in a private booth. That was hot as fuck. I just didn’t want the guy I was with to see my tits yet. We were paying for YA’LL to show us YOUR tits. Pay me and maybe I’ll show you mine. 

So I don’t judge sexuality preferences unless you are Armie Hammer branding and cannibal style because fuck that guy. If you’re two consenting adults who are both mentally competent enough to understand the potential safety concerns, go crazy. I didn’t realize growing up on a farm and with so many 4-H people would lead into such strange sex lives. People are animals, at the end of the day. 

Freudian’s psychosexual theory of development moves from oral to anal to phallic, as most religious folk in the south do…God’s loophole is the poophole, after all.

Let’s never let my ex boyfriend forget his high school girlfriend shit on his dick in the car. Apparently that’s pretty common because the girl from my high school who saved me from being the center of attention for sucking two dicks at once moved the attention onto herself when she shit on a couch in front of people doing anal at a party. When I look back, I honestly wonder what the situation with consent was etc. That’s probably why I was previously always terrified of anything even related to anal. This is also why I reinforce that women need to get sex toys and explore themselves, because you never know what you’ll like until you try it and anal orgasms are just so different. Highly recommend smoking weed if you are super uptight like me and can never relax. That way, if you do something super embarrassing–who the fuck cares. You’re the only person that will know. That is best case scenario to training your body. 

Don’t wait for men to pleasure yourself.

Doctors used to prescribe vibrators to women in the early 1900’s. Granted, women couldn’t divorce their husbands or open their own bank accounts, and since most husbands in that era were pre/during the Great Depression and post-1918 Flu pandemic, I think we can all emphasize with WHY vibrators became a thing. 

Back to Freud–

With the phallic stage of development, the child’s pleasure focuses on the genitals. Now, if you’ve ever babysat or had your own kids, you’ll understand the transitions in these stages and just now might have the actual terminology for it. Some of the little boys I babysat used to hump pillows and cushions etc without actually knowing what they were doing–you could just tell they thought it felt good. Plus, if you’ve ever bathed a baby toddler, you’ll know they hold onto their penises (if they have one) and just play with it absentmindedly. 

As a 28 year old, I’d like to put on the books that men NEVER leave this stage. They’re constantly up tucking their boners, adjusting their ball sacks–one of the guys in my friend’s fraternity would just pull his out for any photo–they LOVE their dicks. If they don’t, or are asexual to any extent, I consider you amongst a more “evolved” class of persona. Thank you for not being completely driven by your first comparison to a “sword” that reinforced your love of warfare and competition for years to come. Slaying dragons simply evolved to slaying women. We’ve seen Game of Thrones. Men in the USA are the fucking wildlings raping and pillaging us and we would like ya’ll to chill the fuck out. 

The phallic stage is when the Oedipus complex in boys is said to develop. This theory suggests men develop a strange attachment to their mothers. Freud also suggests penis envy happens here and my best friend was incredibly vocal on her beliefs in penis envy–mostly out of convenience. Also, with a penis typically assumes (although not always) that you won’t be giving birth. Birth is one of the most dangerous times for a woman, so that would be cool to not have to worry about. 

My friend from MTV’s The Real World, who used to do high jump at UNC and was kicked off the team when he performed a striptease in a bio lecture (he was actually a stripper at the Golden Banana back in Boston), would send me videos helicoptering his dick and it was like 8 inches (it was a nice dick but guess who never fucked him because he literally just wanted to fuck everything that moved). To be honest, is this why I enjoy warfare movies? And researching military technology? Do the propellers of the helicopters now remind me of dicks and does this subliminally turn me on? Maybe. I think I’m on to something. That looked fun as fuck to do, though. Also, convenience of peeing. Free drinks aren’t really a perk when they’re often encompassed with rape, but I can sell feet pics so you got me there on the “hot girl privileges” of whatever “vagina envy” you imagine exists–because YES I absolutely would rather make less money to the dollar and have men sit around and decide what healthcare and religious beliefs I can or cannot have. 

That guy, Strider, the one I’ve referenced past with the pregnancy and twin fetish, has gone out of his way to specify and clarify that I was the fetish, not the fetish itself. I think he secretly has an Oedipus complex cause he has posted things like “my mom will beat up your mom” and she’s big on hiking the Appalachian Trail and we both like all the same stuff and I don’t wanna be the one to point out that I think I’m his dream woman because I remind him of his mom so maybe he should just stop being so scared of his feared and imaginary inadequacy, but alas. He also has confessed or asked whether I’d be into gang bangs, which — like, excuse me. What is the problem with that? You have a room full of guys who you get to choose to fuck at your own discretion? (Not the type of gang bangs in porn where the woman isn’t in control). What is not hot about that? My only problem is, because sex work is illegal, I’d never feel comfortable meeting a stranger for any of that because I’m, again, terrified of getting murdered and don’t enjoy casual sex (I enjoy a LOT of sex when the right option is presented, otherwise I’m disinterested) enough to care about making men I don’t care about happy or have access to me. Thus, in that scenario I’d have to likely know the people to some extent which can just make things awkward so it is never ever something I would ever propose or seriously consider. Especially not if I’m not dating the (main) guy. 

Nah, you don’t get the show. People pay good money on OnlyFans for homemade content like that, buddy. 

You do not get to NOT buy the cow and still get the milk for free. Which…we should probably refer to men as the cows in that reference more often. They make more money, their cum is white like milk…

Freud also proposed periods of sexual latency as well as a “genital stage” from puberty onward where you actually engage in a “sexual awakening”. 

The reason I don’t judge Strider for not knowing anything about women is, apart from being an INTJ which typically means reserved socially, he grew up in a male only household apart from his mom. One of his first girlfriends in high school also later went on to actually do porn and she was apparently into some extreme fetishes. He said he could’ve predicted it, because that’s what she was into at the time as well. I personally think this reinforced a fear of inadequacy, because he thought he wasn’t physically “enough”, because he has passively commented on my vagina being like the glass slipper to his cock or some shit like that because he “thinks he’s perfectly sized for me”. Which, he is, but he is currently unavailable to me, so I would never give him that satisfaction. Strider is the same one I mention who nearly choked me out until I passed out the first time we met and hooked up, who I called a “liability” to his fraternity dad. 

We have hooked up only a handful of times since but he reaches out to me regularly and has gradually progressed more and more and I’ve seen this lifetime movie–it only ends two ways: murder or marriage. Sometimes both. I don’t really want to get murdered, so if he could admit his love for me so I worry less about his interest, that would be cool. 

I am literally “the forbidden” for him. His family–big time confederates. Mine–union general and POW. His family–slave owners. Plantation south slave owners, nonetheless. Mine–spoke 9 native american languages and lived on the frontier peacefully to negotiate trade (hopefully I won’t eventually unearth worse). We are both the biggest war histories and one time I fell asleep watching a civil war documentary with him and we just snuggled kinda on an L shaped couch and he lightly reached out and touched my fingers when he thought I was asleep. It was so cute and gentle. I thought at the time he had friendzoned me.

I refuse to date or seriously consider anyone who can’t verbalize their feelings for me, because words of affirmation are one of my main love languages and I need someone to be able to remind me of the good that I bring them. I also recently went back and looked at Snapchat memories with him and he is just staring at me in mystified awe in pretty much every one where I’m doing anything odd. It’s kinda cute. I don’t know why he would downplay it, but love is scary and I’m intimidating, so I get it. 

Now, am I Selena Gomez and do I just have a fetish for his love? Maybe.

I view my life through the frame of “there are multifactorial dependent, diverse outcomes and possibilities for every scenario. I can predict what is the most likely, or which ones I would be happy in, but the majority of life is unpredictable. We’ll see which dimension it takes me to.

Charles Darwin’s theory of evolution addressed that it is neither the most intelligent or strongest of the species that survives, it is the one most able to adapt. 

I look for partners that I think will be able to grow through life with me, but I’m not concerned that if it doesn’t work out, that’s “it”. I’m also, frankly, just not prioritizing men. They don’t really deserve it. My value doesn’t depend on the presence of a male at my side. 

Though, this mentality unfortunately gives the men I occasionally fuck a huge leg up because they KNOW that I live on a farm in the rural country and HAPPILY am focused on myself, so I genuinely do not give a fuck about meeting people (especially right now). I go months without talking to people normally, because that’s how my family is with communication. And they use it to their advantage, much to my detriment, and know my feelings towards them don’t change just because of life’s natural absences (and state geography).

To be fair for my parent’s generation–without technology, you actually just settled down right after college. My mom and dad met while she was in undergrad and military families get married quickly. There was a nice little dowry of a house and land, attached to her, after all. My mom, thus, grew up thinking it was normal and your spouse should and could not communicate for weeks on end, because duty calls. He might miss your facetime but he’ll never miss an instagram model’s booty pic–just remember. 

While we’re at it, I take back the nice things I said about the Special Forces Army medic. He’s hot, and I’d still go to the shooting range with him again, but don’t you DARE read my blog then have the audacity to give me dating advice. You lied to your fiance about teaching me how to shoot a gun and I had to UNTAG YOU ON INSTAGRAM because you were worried about her reaction. You are on deployment checking my instagram every day and have to wait for me to call you out on it, before saying I have “interesting thoughts”. Which, I do, and can’t blame you for, but the fact that you refuse to follow me because she’ll see, is insane

I do not envy or desire any relationship with that much insecurity and distrust warped in control. That is not love, and that is not something I “want to come home to”. Life is an adventure and call me Bilbo Baggins, but I’m skipping my ass down that lane happily and I want to explore the world and what “life” means with someone who loves me and chooses to see me for the way I see myself and others. I don’t want your version of love because it dulls to mine. I want to be effervescent. And I don’t want my partner to feel the need to hide those lines of communication from me or what it means to be “human”. They don’t need to understand it, or know how to navigate everything alone or figure things out for me, they just need to learn how to talk to me. 

Circling back to foot fetishes, now that you got me all hot and bothered thinking about the Army, it’s estimated that 1 in 7 people have sexual thoughts about feet. 

First of all, there are over 7,000 nerve endings in each foot. You know what that means? A lot of sensory stimulation.

Reflex points in your feet can be stimulated for homeopathic remedies to address digestive issues, head aches, and even PMS pain for women. Thus, fucking with a foot fetish may offer some relief you weren’t aware was correlated… or even potentially CAUSALLY associated. 

Men–do not use this as an excuse if your partner tells you they have a headache. Don’t pressure them for sex unless you know them REALLY REALLY well (& they won’t get mad), because women shouldn’t need to ever justify why they don’t want your cock inside of them. 

Second, referencing that oral stage, feet are often up by the partner’s head if you’re looking at heteronormative sex. Look at how porn is shot–the focal emphasis on the feet. If you’re fucking her, sometimes the feet are over your shoulders. Right there within grasping range of your tongue, desperately searching for somewhere to slither between so you can stop alternating on looking at them versus your own cock and needing something else to do. Of COURSE the toes are gonna cum into play.

You contort her enough and maybe her hips hinge open and she can place both feet behind her head. My friend Mina from the “ENTJ Women Unhinged” episode can do that, actually. And drink wine from a wine glass held by her feet. She is probably the hottest person I’ve ever seen, so her boyfriend is one lucky guy let’s just leave it at that. 

If you’re fucking them doggie, not only do you visually see their butthole, but their feet are right there at the edge of your fingertips, usually. Potentially even offering stability and grip potential for better driving force and thus, sexual pleasure for themselves. In this way, they are classically conditioning themselves to enjoy touching feet, because they associate it with plunging their cocks into the crest of your labia. Real sword and the stone type of bullshit. We wonder why nerds like D&D so much. 

Speaking of–have I ever mentioned that The Farmboy is a huge D&D player and apparently used to get in fights with his ex girlfriend about not skipping it for her. He skipped an entire game for me, and all of our mutual friends were shocked. Did I mention I have skills? I’d marry that man in a heartbeat. Once again, I will never consider it until he can somehow pick up these imaginary signals I’m echolocating to him like the whales in Finding Dory, confessing his love in a style reminiscent of “The Notebook”, but I’m fine if that doesn’t happen. 

LOL. what is wrong with me. 

So my question is–
why would men not have conditioned themselves to be into feet?

Especially if they consume pretty much any pornographic content. 

Foot binding was even considered a foot fetish, and we learned about that in AP World History class about the Chinese empire. I’m oddly attracted to ballerinas and dancing en pointe is essentially identical in a lot of ways. Their skeletal structure physically changes and it looks REALLY COOL in x-rays. 

Furthermore, the sensory nerves that these action potentials travel through when your feet are stimulated, travel up through your groin. Biochemically, this should heighten your own sensation. The nerves of the feet are connected to the spinal cord in the lower back and pelvis. If you change the positioning of yourself minutely, it can DRASTICALLY affect sensation during sex–especially if vibrators are introduced. 

All women should get vibrators purely because you will be able to have so many DIFFERENT kinds of orgasms that it’s honestly just cool. 

Sex should be fun, explorative, and a biochemical release. Not taboo or something to be ashamed of.

Medical Professionals and their Kinks (26:43)

Speaking of exploration of the body, medical professionals are some of the kinkiest mother fuckers I’ve ever met. Keep in mind medical examiners (who perform autopsies) also have to go through medical school. 

In medicine, you’re used to diagnosing through minute considerations of the body and what it is capable of, how systems interact, which actions release which chemicals and when. Subtle cues on how to tell, predisposition towards recognizing the state of blood flow through their veins, pulsing in the veins weaving through their bodies, bulging against their skin. Medicine is an art of the body, for those who are skilled enough to view it as so. 

To me, I have no interest in casual hook ups because I have no interest in casually knowing people. I’d like to use whatever limited time I have on this earth immersing myself in the lives of those I love, however so. Naturally, that extends sexually because I enjoy learning how intimately someone enjoys being touched. The facets of their personalities that make them unique. How they experienced life and grew up, shaping their views of the world and views of me. 

I can’t really explain it, I just know it–virtually immediately. I feel at home with them even as strangers. Thomas, the German who is truly dominating the sex olympics of my vagina, even though we shared a mere 3 weeks of passionate love affairs, was starring at me from across a bar and just perplexed by me. I loved it. He saw me the way I see myself–in wondrous curiosity. He was so loving, too, I will always think of him fondly. Germany doesn’t have typically great international PR, either, (no judgment…I’m a US citizen) so Thomas is doing you all some serious good. 

Because of this sensation, I can mentally dissociate quite well from discussing sex apathetically and colloquially towards being intimate. Maybe you don’t understand it if you’ve never actually been in love, or maybe I’ve spent too many summers in obscure wine towns hidden in the lavender fields of the South of France, but the human body is not inherently taboo and treating it and something as natural as sex in that way is a disservice.

By treating the body, especially the female body, as taboo or necessitating it to be “pure”, “ladylike”, and “unbroken” it undermines the fluidity of sex. It is a disservice to the temple of human flesh that houses your soul to not be unafraid to touch yourself. To not feel guilty for your own pleasure. To not express love freely in your various forms in a world that lacks it so badly. 

Studying evolutionary anthropology, the authors of “The Genius of Dogs” and “Survival of the Friendliest” reference how humans originated from primate ancestors–two of which, the bonobo and chimp, we study to reference human behavior to, today. Chimps, a patriarchal society built on alpha males are excessively violent and sexually aggressive–even genitally mutilating their neighbors to prevent competition, much like how the churches like to circumcise babies to diminish nerve sensation and sexual pleasure (though directed commonly at female members of the group in a “The Handmaid’s Tale” mentality). Bonobos, however, are matriarchal societies. They are sexually fluid and use sex for conflict resolution–not conflict creation. They are typically peaceful, expressively loving species.

Can the general public please just legalize weed nationally so you don’t have to leave your social support for medical care or fun and can our culture as a whole have a Woodstock era revival of sexual freedom please? I watched John Mayer play guitar at my first music festival at Music Midtown in Atlanta circa 2014, one of the only times I’d done edibles at the time, and it transcends most music. I cannot truly be expected to date men who can barely comprehend anger from sadness, right? You can’t expect that to turn me on or entice me, right? 

Anyways, medical people have some of the kinkiest fetishes always correlated with the medical field they are in. 

I have quite a few foot surgeons, shout out to my hometown hero who wrestled for American University back in the day and was a senior when I was a freshman in high school, so he knows all about my worst version of myself and never used to be deterred, who have admitted I have nice feet. This one asked me out a while back but it never went into motion, or maybe I had a boyfriend, and now I’m pretty sure he’s dating someone but it doesn’t stop him from sending snapchats of his cat purring as it lays on his cock, just so I can point out that cats like to sit in warm places and if increased blood flow through his groin makes it warm, it makes logical sense. I’m not saying it’s risque, but I have a whole post on Animal Behavior and my sex life so maybe it truly is innocent and he doesn’t keep me as an option on the back burner “just in case” but I kinda think a lot of my male friends view me in that light, so I don’t *quite* trust it. I do enjoy the conversation a lot, though. 

If a foot surgeon is telling me I have nice feet and great biomechanics,
I’m gonna BE FLATTERED…RIGHTFULLY SO.

Also, I take a fair amount of pics of my ass from forward of my shoulder, as I’m laying on my tummy. My feet will be kicked up behind me and I’ll move them up and down slowly while staring at the camera. Never fails to get a dick hard. My nice feet, a smirk, and the bubbliness of the round crest of my ass? I get it, I get it. A worthy conquest. 

My friend, who was in med school classes at the time (a second year) was requested, by her much older, think dad-aged MEDICAL PROFESSOR WITHIN THE SCHOOL WHO WAS THE PARENT OF HER PROFESSIONAL JUMP ROPE TEAM, a team so serious she traveled all over the world from childhood and performed at multiple olympics, was a GI doctor and asked her to strap one on and peg him. So she did. Why not? Stimulation of the hypogastric nerve in men induces orgasmic sensation via stimulation of the prostate. It is basic fucking biology and natural to enjoy this. Why does wanting to achieve higher orgasmic potential seem so taboo for men? Quit being so homophobic.

This is the perk of having a diverse friend group. My bestfriend “lost” her virginity her senior year to her now-fiance, to this day the only man she has ever had sex with. And despite SEEMINGLY being a huge slut, she just liked to drink and would make out with tons of random dudes, including ones she picked up off the street after bars closed at the end of the night, go home with them, then turn on The Grudge to “ruin the mood” so she wouldn’t even be pressured into anything more. Thank goodness she never got taken advantage of, honestly. That was risky to an extent, though hilarious. It was great for me because I had someone to party with and make out with occasionally. Half of my friend group is Southern religious conservatives, some are younger than me from when I was in grad school, and then a lot are older than me from when I was in undergrad. 

I learned about rimming when I was 21-22, before the “butt stuff” phase took over and it became mainstream topics of conversation, from my friend in law school who was engaged. It’s such a small world, because this friend also happened to know the previously mentioned great and somewhat disappointing love of my life (currently), wrestler, before she ever met me, because he apparently stole her car and drove it around campus while she gave his friend, now rising within the UFC circuits, head. 

Why are American men so fucking homophobic that they refuse to consider getting their bodies explored and played with, because they don’t realize it can be just as fascinating as their desires to explore the female body and its variety of holes and sensations. Men biologically have a prostate gland that should feel pretty fucking good (apparently) when stimulated. Why the fuck would you deny yourself the pleasure of knowing how your body works? Especially if it could be an odd way to heighten sexual pleasure? 

I will not date you if you aren’t at least somewhat turned on by the idea of another male sucking your cock or at least open to discussing it. I’m not gonna pretend like we’re the only two people on this planet and you will never be sexually turned on by anything else blah blah blah. If you can picture me in a threesome with a woman or multiple partners in general, I can damn sure envision the power dynamics of men exchanging it. Or, again, a room full of men lusting in adoration for the chance to pleasure me. Plus, watching male-on-male porn is so hot because men must know what they enjoy best. I assume they have the better technique and insight. Same reason why lesbian porn is so common, even for “straight” women to watch. 

I can straight up watch porn objectively for hours. It is such an interesting media industry. Seeing the difference in sexuality and marketing across the globe is also alluring. Of the safest countries for women, all have legal prostitution, by the way. There are benefits to less sexual repression in society. Almost like…sex is a completely natural thing and we should not sully the act of it by putting such arbitrarily taboo natures to it such that men have now conditioned themselves to have death grips and seek out anal for the tightness of those muscular sphincters because only that, or the hard grip of their dominant hand, can actually get them off anymore. 

Which, I know, is somewhat hypocritical to say when I capitalize on our pathetic attitude towards sexuality and desperate framing of the “Evolution” of humans as if we didn’t murder the other species of neanderthals and hunter gatherer societies that had minutely different physical attributes–likely because we were suspicious of these slight differences and viewed them with “us” versus “them” mentality. But sure, we’ve really “evolved” away from that standpoint, globally….

Cardiologists will commonly hire women and pay them to just listen to healthy, regular heartbeats for a while. Not even to have sex. 

People pay for your sweat, bath water, tears, underwear, and anything you can possibly imagine over the internet. 

You don’t think I’m a little suspicious of eventual cloning technology? We are looking into cloning technology for potentially dinosaurs down the road and you think I want some strange man fetishizing American college girls to have a vial of my sweat down the road? Or my dehydrated pussy juice on the underwear I wore for 6 hours or to work out in? What are the implications that some obsessed scientist might clone me, even accidentally, in the future–possibly utilizing EVEN A CLONE OF ME FOR HIS OWN SEXUAL PURPOSES. If you sell them your DNA, does it legally and contractually mean they can do whatever with it? What if this happens down the road? 

People go to the ER frequently for getting bottles vacuumed into their assholes because they don’t realize it pressure seals it because they failed introductory physics and had to switch to an econ or business major freshman year.

Rodents get stuffed into assholes.
It’s Michael Scott’s “tube city” in your intestines. 

I promise you, medical people have seen and are into the weirdest shit. Both literally and figuratively. If you’re self conscious about yourself or your body etc, date someone in healthcare. They take care of people with varying bodily compositions and health all damn day long and nothing much phases them.

Like I said, I’ve held a flaccid penis taught after numbing it with local anesthesia for my surgeon to cut off skin cancer. I had to awkwardly explain to the surgeon why I thought we should logically glue the wound shut (instead of her proposed bandaging method, which was for me to ace bandage a gauze pad with ointment over the stitches). It was an odd navigation, explaining that the changing progression of blood flow would just cause that to fall off almost immediately, but we ultimately ended up gluing the wound shut. #Dermaglue. I miss that job. Win for me and limp penises recently surgically operated on everywhere.

This is your friendly reminder you can get skin cancer even where the sun doesn’t shine. If you have insurance, it should cover a yearly total body skin exam (TBSE). You can’t tell if anything is changing in size, shape, or color if you don’t have baseline measurements. Go see a dermatologist, people.

BDSM & Healthy People 2020 (39:00)

Speaking of cancer and health in general, did you know that 25-35% of all Americans are inactive? They have sedentary jobs of some kind involving physical inactivity and don’t get the allotted recommendation for physical activity through sport or exercise, etc. Physical activity has a ton of benefits–”better sleep, improved mental health, reducing risk of obesity, heart disease, type 2 diabetes, and some cancers” (CDC). 50 million Americans and the “biggest public health problem of the 21st century” yet half our government refuses to actually govern based on science, knowledge, and actual education over misconstrued opinion and falsities over the decades. 

Now, do I think in true ~*~American~*~ fashion we as a society would conflate sexual and physical health and have such overall negative outcomes (and yet, still try to argue that not moving to universal healthcare somehow benefits us??? Because we should… want(?) A country with 40%+ having chronic diseases which impact quality and quantity of life? Why do you not want a strong country? You know what, nevermind. Different topic for a different day). Yes. 

Do I also think people are so obsessed with control over others in the fucking “country of freedom” that, coupled with human inactivity, our necessity to be productive or multitasking 24/7 and “normalizing” needing multiple full time jobs to just keep a roof over your head or pay simple bills, and sexual aggression through the porn industry that we have also gravitated towards BDSM as a way to address this societally in a multifactorial approach with the limited “fun” time we have? Absolutely. 

Though often in such a way that overlooks the severity and extent of actual consent and proper protocol. BDSM in hook up culture with partners you can’t, don’t, and probably shouldn’t inherently trust, as a “quick fix” to get exercise and stretch/work muscular groups you don’t prioritize normally, sexual satisfaction (Read: orgasms), just further biochemically conditions ourselves to enjoy this in lieu of “healthier” and less physically demanding sex lives because you’re able to afford and have the time to go to a gym or work out class as you need–versus resorting or needing to carve out hours of the day to be tied up like you’re a galley wench pirate in Victorian England kept in the stocks, physically presenting yourself just for the satisfaction of another.  

Orgasms have a lot of benefits too, so by all means if your partner ties you up and gets you off multiple times, do whatever you have to do to close that orgasm gap. Like I said before about yoga, changing minute ways about body positioning–flexing different muscular groups, activating certain sequences, all have varying cascays of effects, both biochemically and physically.

Here’s what happens to the body when you cum:

Dopamine is “the key neurotransmitter involved in stimulating orgasms in humans” (The British Psychologist Society). Dopamine releasers (amphetamines such as adderall) or reuptake inhibitors (cocaine) can facilitate expression of orgasm regardless of gender. 

Antipsychotics and antidepressants work to make orgasms harder by blocking the dopamine receptors. So if you or a partner take these and your libido is impacted–talk to your primary care or psychiatrist if it isn’t working for you. However, I’m of the belief that mental health should be prioritized over sexual. Don’t have sex with people who hurt your mental health. Your sexual partners should be people you can trust who you can discuss this with. They shouldn’t get offended or assume “it’s them” if the other person can’t cum, but it also doesn’t need to be a judgmental investigation where you demand an explanation. Sex doesn’t always HAVE to “end” in orgasms. I recommend nice play sessions throughout your time with them. Breaks are cool. Snacks are always good. Have fun with it, it should be enjoyable for both of you. 

Serotonin, the neurotransmitter involved in mood modulation, cognition, reward, learning, memory, and even physiological processes such as vasoconstriction (think blood flow constriction which can be altered and enhanced via choking) is blocked for reuptake by antidepressant drugs. Most SSRIs, except for nefazodone and buspirone, reportly inhibit oprgasms. Apparently buspirone has been used “off label” therapeutically for treating premature or early ejaculation as well. 

Anti inflammatory biochemicals are released (great and super useful for recovery, age “protection”, and protecting against environmental toxins you come into contact with through skin absorption).

Sex in sports is a somewhat taboo topic since it can cross a lot of awkward professional boundaries and people like Larry Nasser will use the inability of comprehensive sex education to guide naivety of youthful innocence for predatory behavior. 

Rhonda Rousey reportedly talks about fucking the night before her fights. This makes sense, because estrogen and testosterone are both released as a result. These enhance your skin and hair health. Note that both of these levels wax and wane through a woman’s typical reproductive cycle, thus the libido is expected to be somewhat cyclical and periods of asexuality or disinterest are normal and may not involve your partner or anything being “wrong” with your physical body.

Sigmund Freud also coined the phrase “before you diagnose yourself with depression or low self-esteem, first make sure that you are not, in fact, just surrounded by assholes.”

Orgasms literally can treat “hysteria” in women (let’s remember our early 1900’s medical documentation of prescription vibrators) which really just means “vibrators help women not be reliant on men for sexual satisfaction and sexual wellness”. Everybody needs 10. 

Research institutions are starting to use fMRI and PET scans for the study of orgasms, thus the extent of this knowledge. I’m hopefully keeping it enough introductory biochem where it makes some type of sense. Being physically active, especially through sport, can increase your natural testosterone production. Testosterone helps restore sexual interest and pleasure and is a common androgen therapy for men who are ageing or have had their testes surgically altered or removed, as well as for women following oophorectomies. Also a topic for a later date, but cis hetero women often need hormone replacement and therapy so shut the fuck up about the imaginary issues with the less than 2% of the population who identifies as trans just because you suddenly care about people’s health/access to healthcare and really just wanna shit on someone’s most comfortable identity for them, which should be irrelevant for you if its not harming you and they’re happy. 

In women, “pain thresholds more than double during orgasm” (Whipple & Komisaruk, 1985). As a woman in sports with a very fucked up, drastically skewed pain receptors from the multiple bone breaks and general contact, I endorse this message. Let’s not forget vaginas and women are not the weak ones. We are physically designed to essentially take a beating to our innermost crevices and enjoy it. I’m sure the argument will eventually be made that my altered pain thresholds, including one my OBGYN commented on as she removed and reinserted a new IUD after my Mirena expired over 7 years with me barely flinching, are fucked up for no shortage of reasons and as such, naturally effects my sensory neural impulse propagation through sex. 

Furthermore, the cortical regions of the brain responsible for orgasm are also activated during painful stimulation. This has psychologically become understood to have overlapping activation of “pain” versus “pleasure”, an obvious facet of BDSM culture. Thus, why would sexual activity that consensually combines the two not offer ultimate orgasms? 

Oxytocin is also involved. Commonly called the “love hormone”, you can experience a release after 20 seconds of physical contact. 

…Yes, I have literally used this to explain to my guy friends why I requested a prolonged hug and we should express love through friendships more, including verbally being appreciative and acknowledging our friends better, because all we’re doing is depriving ourselves of “positive vibes” (hormones) by not. As someone who had a sexually intimate previous partner be the one to point out they think one of my dominant love languages is physical touch, yet I withhold it and hate personal contact without permission, as is typical of people with histories of sexual trauma or abuse. Yay me.

Oxytocin is a neurotransmitter involved in “childbirth, breastfeeding, sexual activity, empathy, trust, and relationship-building” (Medical News Today). Females typically have higher levels than males, and may even benefit people with anxiety, depression, or intestinal problems. Thus, sexual health and wellbeing can impact mental health and wellbeing a lot more than we frame it. Again, why would that NOT be the case when half of the nation is hell bent on framing sexuality as something taboo versus well within the boundaries of completely normal human behavior that is not dependent on some social construct of marriage or purity. 

Nipple stimulation actually triggers oxytocin release,
so suck on them tiddies if you want to get particularly close with a partner.

Nipple clamps would obviously impact release and stimulation by this logic as well. Oxytocin is also released and affects uterine contraction. (It can medically be used to induce a termination or complete a miscarriage, but your body also naturally produces it.) Oxytocin released in the blood stream affects uterus contraction, but within the brain it impacts “emotional, cognitive, and social behaviors” including, but not limited to, sexual behavior, bonding between couples, and maternal care. 

It isn’t as straightforward as some of the other hormones, because it can be internally produced in times of stress but external supply of it also reduces stress. It has enhanced bonding effects while also being correlated to increasing group think behavior in unhealthy manners (prejudice, aggression, jealousy). 

Let’s look at the biomechanics of stretching alone. 

BDSM and contortion play, effectively stretching with toys and a partner, increases blood flow, as targeted muscles widen their blood vessels to allow blood absorption (and neurotransmitter movement). 

Stretching activates the parasympathetic nervous system, responsible for rest/digestion, inducing potentially calming or relaxing effects during an activity which would otherwise activate your sympathetic nervous system and stress centers. This operational dichotomy is inevitably sexually rewarding in a multifactorial manner.

Plus, endorphins are released and everybody knows from Reese Witherspoon’s Elle Woods in Legally Blonde that “endorphins make you happy. Happy people don’t kill their husbands.” These are commonly released after sex in the body’s biochemical natural reward system, thus stretching to activate release ahead or during sexual activity seems logically beneficial. Endorphins also have greater pain-relieving effects than morphine, causing feelings of euphoria. Do I really need to explain how this, coupled with the pain-threshold increase during orgasm for women, would be incredibly beneficial to heighten sexual pleasure? 

Regular sexual activity also improves neurogenesis, or neuronal creation within the hippocampus of your brain, responsible for learning and memory. Thus, regular sexual activity with partners worthy of trust get biochemically reinforced to build stronger relationships and increase healthy brain activity.

Keep this in mind if you gravitate towards a particular Dom/Sub role, as you will be further reinforcing your biochemical conditioning. I prefer the exchange of power, myself…likely a testament to my pansexuality, so I can do it all and I’ve never liked narrowing down my choices. In fact, I believe it was Ali Wong in her Netflix special Baby Cobra who mentioned assertive, bossy, domineering women in other aspects like and prefer to be submissive in bed, because it is the one time we are able to relinquish control. 

This should be a pretty good introduction into the sexual psychology of fetishes, BDSM emergence and framing of healthy sexual activity, how common different kinks or sexual priorities actually are, and that you shouldn’t be intimidated to talk about something of that relevance with potential or future partners. 

If you’re too uncomfortable to do so, chances are either you or them mentally aren’t in the best head space to engage in that, and you should also be able to recognize those instances as well. 

Women who orgasm regularly have decreased risk of breast cancer, everyone is less likely to die of heart disease, and prostate cancer in men drops by 33% with 21 or more orgasms a month (Fertile Ground Wellness Center). Sex is good for comprehensive health reasons. Make sure you’re doing it safely, and consensually, but it should be an experience to be enjoyed by any and everyone involved.

Also don’t forget, if you die of autoerotic asphyxiation, or any simultaneously dangerous BDSM activities, your body can and will be transported to the medical examiner for the typically state-required autopsy in the bondage gear and positioning it is found in.

Remember that next time you choke your chicken and self out with a necktie while your sweet, caring mother is upstairs making you dinner. For the medical examiner staff, at least those ones are typically “funner” than normal. You know they went out doing something they loved, at least. As Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark of MFM would say, stay sexy and don’t get murdered.

REFERENCES:

http://www.bridgewater.nhs.uk/wp-content/uploads/2012/11/Foot-Facts.pdf

https://www.innerbody.com/anatomy/nervous/leg-foot

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Foot_fetishism

https://bigthink.com/sex-relationships/psychology-of-foot-fetishes?rebelltitem=4#rebelltitem4

https://www.cdc.gov/media/releases/2020/0116-americas-inactivity.html

https://www.medicalnewstoday.com/articles/275795#the_love_hormone

https://www.healthline.com/health/why-does-stretching-feel-good

https://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pmc/articles/PMC3548359/

https://fertilegroundwellnesscenter.com/2019/03/26/o-my/

https://thepsychologist.bps.org.uk/volume-21/edition-2/orgasm

https://www.apa.org/news/press/releases/2009/08/physical-inactivity

https://www.chicagotribune.com/lifestyles/health/ct-americans-inactive-computers-blame-20190423-story.html

https://www.cdc.gov/media/releases/2020/0116-americas-inactivity.html

https://www.simplypsychology.org/whatispsychology.html

https://www.simplypsychology.org/pavlov.html

https://www.verywellmind.com/operant-conditioning-a2-2794863

Ghislaine Maxwell Pt. 2

For part 1 of a satirical trilogy into the wonderfully cozy home of familial warmth I grew up in, read this first

The Middle Child

Foreword:

The first introduction into this rabbit hole of my increasingly complex family dynamics was only the tip of the iceberg for the realm inside my head. There is a reason I prefer my solitude now, and it’s not because of my warm embrace by society as a child. I scorn the physical restraint of hugs, save maybe a handful of individuals, not because I was taught how to be comfortable in my own body and interacting healthily with others. 

The main reason I don’t succumb to the pull of substance abuse disorders, mental breakdowns, and the crushing weight of knowledge that my species has single handedly destroyed this beautiful planet beyond recognition, unlike so many of my relatives (and the rest of society), is that I’ve gone out of my way to secure and prioritize my mental health… only through a combination of pure stubbornness, the resources to learn beyond my environment, and the willpower to educate myself on it without feeling a stigma to repress or be ashamed of it. 

Much like the opening scene of Euphoria, when Zendaya’s wonder that is the character of “Rue” is brought to this reality, her mother addresses something along the lines of how “plenty of successful people had [childhood depression].” A montage of Vincent Van Gogh, Sylvia Plath, and Britney Spears having psychotic breaks or committing suicide proceeds to play out. Even Albert Einstein struggled with depression, and as a scientist, it’s scary to study the reality that my increased intellect is also the potential reason for my anxiety. It’s scarier, though, to realize that in the 21st century, I now have a platform to be able to share my stream of consciousness and document my fears, my concerns, and my emphasis on the power of mindset and I’ve somehow been gaslighted by my own family, friends, and part of society to think I should shelter it like a lighter’s flame on a windy night behind your hands. 

I can’t delve into my hopeful, still incredibly early stages of my public health and legal career, arguing over the ethics and stigma attached to certain topics–historically trending based on cultural premonitions, while shadowing the recesses of my own mind, struggling with the very same concepts. I can’t be worried an online presence will criticize my future career paths, when those same career paths will eventually involve advocacy…and my passion for advocacy is rooted in those very personal experiences I wish to explore. I can’t be afraid to have to address the skeletons in my own closet that may one day be dragged out, paraded in front of me, or for some reason used against me to involuntarily commit me to a 5150 hold, or worse…invalidate my opinion in a male-dominated public setting. 

My friend Bill once told me how he thinks my generation’s greatest strength is facilitating open conversation. 

Part of that involves having an honest conversation with myself, first. 

And believe me, I have had several years of (unfortunately) honest conversations with myself where I hold myself under scrutinizingly-heavy pressure and unrealistic expectations under the premise of “I should’ve known better”, so this isn’t about the fact that I need therapy. This is about the fact that I use writing as my preferred form of expression, and I want the people in my life moving forward to understand what I care about, why I am the way that I am, and how I actually feel underneath it all. You don’t write about the things that are easy. 

So why do I need to do it? 

Honestly, because I’m exhausted from not feeling able to. 

Years of verbal, emotional, and at times physical, abuse, all at the hands of my biological relatives. Cycles of substance abuse and behavioral patterns that are transgenerational–fully acknowledged yet never addressed. 

Years of every new person in my life expressing some kind of pity, or sadness when the topic of family comes up or if they innocently ask what I’m doing for the holidays. Until, finally, it’s just easier to say “I don’t have a family” than to explain that mine just doesn’t, and may never, understand me. 

Years of trying everything else. Therapy. Meditation. Yoga. Running. Lifting Weights. Creating a list of things to talk about. Setting boundaries. Working on forgiveness. Somehow, it all gets thrown back in my face (a spiteful “You need therapy!” as if that is actually supposed to be some kind of insult… Hey, news flash, buddy… MOST PEOPLE NEED THERAPY, not to mention this may not exist if any of y’all had ever actually gone to it yourselves instead of taking your mental handicaps out on me in real life.)

Years of it being portrayed as if I’m the unreasonable one because I’m the only one who outwardly has a problem. Everyone else can carefully avoid topics that may set off the avalanche of dismayed self realization, but I’m the only one who hasn’t been able to. I don’t smoke or drink away my problems, forgetting about how I physically attacked my sibling in my early 20’s thanks to a few rounds of watered-down shots. I don’t refuse to apologize and instead just show up absentmindedly a few months later, hoping the other person had forgotten the things I previously said. 

I am simply not willing to pretend like these things didn’t occur, or didn’t exist, because I have had to live with them for that long, without a choice. But, I’m not trying to summit the hypoxic graveyard of Mount Everest by myself. I don’t need to carry this alone. I could, but it’s not necessary in this day and age. I can bring an oxygen tank. I can bring a sherpa. But people need to know that’s where I am in the world. 

______________________________________

For the record, I’m also tired of trying to weed out the newcomers who are ACTUALLY interested in learning about “me”, in whatever sense or capacity is available to them, without wasting my own time, and as of my past decade I tend to live in a new state every 2-3 years because of my career goals and honestly, I really don’t want to have to constantly retell the same exhaustingly intense theories for the rest of my life, but “normal” people can talk about things like family, career goals, values in life, much more casually.

Again, not exactly normal here. (Did you read the first post?)

So, whether it be professionally, athletically, educationally, whatever, I am actively working on making myself more available mentally, because clearly, emotionally I can be fairly checked out.

To be clear, yes I am stating that THEY (newcomers) can waste THEIR time reading about me, so long as I don’t waste my own. 

#JustENTJThings (Go look up MBTI)

Anyway, let’s Recap…

Short summary of my initial post is:

  • My grandfather and father are terrifyingly intellectual men in fields of military strategy and all things aerospace engineering (i.e. missile/weaponry development)
  • I was “trained” as a small child, and while my childhood was incredibly wonderful in a lot of ways, there was also a lot of navigation of stress in various forms
  • It’s possible that ‘training’ was some discontinued CIA-program to eventually sell me off/push me to gather intelligence and subject my body to whatever was necessary in my pursuit of knowledge in how the world works

So without further adieu, let’s continue…

Clue #4: Debutante Themes + International Diplomacy

Did any of you ever watch “She’s The Man” and relate to Viola Hastings’ disgust at her current situation and understand just why she was so frustrated? When Jo March in Greta Gerwig’s 2019 rendition of “Little Women” cried out in desperation of being so lonely, but wanting to be respected even more, was your initial reaction to undervalue her feelings? When Arya walked away from Gendry’s promise of a ladyship and land in season 8 because “that’s not her”, did you cheer? Feel a sense of pride? 

You likely felt compassion, empathy, an understanding of who they were because the backstory of their character arc was available to you. 

So when I refused my mother’s repeated advances to present myself to society via a debutante ball and cotillion, or when I decided I was going to join the football team AND be the top runner for cross country AND play varsity soccer in high school, or when I was one of the only women out of ~15 students out of a class of 22,000 undergraduates to graduate from a top 5 public university in one of the most difficult, male dominated degree fields available, when does my validation come? 

And where does my validation come from? Do I value the opinion of the family members I honestly can no longer respect because of the repeated nature of our adult encounters? Do I value the opinion of the supervisors who just yesterday sent me home because “while my outfit meets all technical criteria of the dress code, your legs are too tantalizing”… underneath your desk… in South Florida… in the middle of the summer? Do I value the opinion of the men who admired all of my virtuous aspirations initially, only for my independence to slowly become a deal breaker due to their own insecurities, causing them to stray? 

Fuck that. My validation comes from myself. 

I’ve always been this “difficult” of a person. I was five years old the first time I ran away and I distinctly remember packing my bag in spite (at my father) and holding my cat comforter up so the edges wouldn’t drag across the dew-laden grass as I crossed the street to my Uncle’s house. But am I really “difficult”? Or do I just question the subjective confines of my world because I know I can? 

And how do you present yourself to society when you don’t enjoy it, or it feels like a facade to do it in any artificial way? 

I had no interest in curtsying, learning how to delicately fold a napkin across my lap, or waiting on a male partner to escort me out into the world, even in adolescence. The cotillion angle, try as my mother might, was never going to happen. 

She should’ve known I wasn’t one to conform to gender norms when I took TWO boys to the third grade spring fling. In my defense, I narrowed down my choice from the entire male class, who had each given me an extra valentine (seriously, I peaked early as fuck) to just the two most popular boys. Chris Parker’s mom even picked me up and then drove to pick up Madison along the way. (Also…thinking of these instances then reassessing my previous, completely “unrelated” sexual preferences these days in quarantine is really that much more amusing). In fact, my entire third grade year parallels “me” as a human, in general. The presidential physical fitness test became my bitch, and the ten measly pull ups I had to do were nothing for my 100-pull-up, 100-v-up nightly bar routine that had to be completed before I could leave to go home from gymnastics…at the end of a 2 hour practice. One day, I got bored in gym class and was literally just allowed to stay in gym the rest of the day and hula hoop to break the Guiness World Record at the time, purely just to prove I could. My best friend fed me chicken nuggets to my outstretched palm during lunch. I even won the talent show later that Spring in an incredibly itchy, fuzzy Limited Too blue sweater and red skirt while belting out “The Star Spangled Banner” after first dedicating it to my three-time war veteran of a Grandpa (front row, in the audience) while my Grandmother, the hometown angel who played the organ and piano at every local parish and theatre club, accompanied me. Seriously, though, why is who I am these days and what I stand for STILL surprising to literally anybody who grew up with me. 

Once it was clear I had no intention in conforming to being a “lady” of society, other tactics of securing my status as being worthy of another person’s admiration took hold. My aunt’s job, working for some privately wealthy multimillionaire based out of D.C., took her all over the globe. Once I turned 18, and could freely travel with her without raising parental concerns, she took me with her to Rome where I spent 10 days exploring the city with an Italian Air Force Chief of Staff’s son, also my age, who was attending school overseas due to his father’s station. Later that summer, I was asked to accompany a 24 year old Australian diplomat’s recently-college-graduated son to a private dinner. The age gap and request wouldn’t have been weird…except for the fact that I both had an (abusive) boyfriend of several years and had never even been to college yet so what the heck could a small-town girl who ran against her best friend for queen of the county fair as a scholarship competition possibly offer a diplomat’s son in one-on-one conversation over a single night? With my dad, it was the men from base–whichever colonel, general, second lieutenant, whatever the fuck rank of marine, navy, or army man it was that day blending together into indistinguishable introductions, exuberance over how lucky they were to finally be introduced to me, the lust and intrigue behind their gaze obvious to anyone with half a brain. 

Those interactions certainly weren’t all bad, though.

I was the only youth at a five-course meal with multiple four star Italian generals. So, even if I was only there as a pretty face that could hold a conversation with the military men being honored, being fed cherries hand picked from the owner of the estate’s private groves, perched atop the roof top balcony overlooking Rome, at least I was there. When I was 21, I even had the opportunity to stay at the home of my dad’s long time friend, a former Marine-turned-oil-industry (conveniently right around the early-to-mid 2000’s…) man in Houston, Texas while working at the top cancer research center in the world for a summer! So, even if the man’s 23 year old athletic, blonde girlfriend “wasn’t comfortable” with him being in his own house when I was present , at least I got free use of the extra BMW, a pool with one of those motors that lets you swim in place, and prime real estate in Houston, Texas for free.

Not everything was a manipulative set up of any kind, and one could argue that life in general is about opportunity, so the more opportunities these equally curious and almost imaginative interactions earn you, the better. At the very least, I have a deeply complicated and interesting life story up until the current age of 27. But when your entire life has been centered on graduating college with virtually NO expectations set for you other than settling down and marrying a man, it is really difficult to not feel a hot flash of anger when they seem to ONLY happen, LARGELY because of your looks (which, again, up until this point, was a thing to keep modestly) and because the idea you might be happy, or fulfilled, on your own, seems absurd. It’s even insulting, most of all, because instead of not wanting to be distracted or undervalued after a string of shitty relationships, I’m apparently not allowed to provide myself time to relax and put myself first, because they’re worried that my “biological clock is ticking.”

For the record, looking at the facts of how my Grandpa didn’t believe I should have the right to vote AND TOLD ME SO, I grew up a farm girl riding my ponies over my acres of tobacco and hay fields, and my childhood consisted of glorifying the military prowess of egotistical men who feel a need to claim things (land, women, animals) for themselves and white colonial history, the emphasis of my place in society as a woman was probably one of the least shocking things I still feel residual pressure from. (Truthfully, I’ve even developed a bit of a kink for men in civil-war-era attire, which could just as likely be from Damon and Stefan Salvatore gracing the screens of my Netflix bingeing as lustful vampires, both secretly enamored with the same girl (a common theme in the entertainment I am drawn to, you’ll find) as it is due to my desire to enact some decades-later control over my own militaristic childhood in a Freudian version of sexual empowerment.)

As each year passes, even into my late 20’s, their tactics have only gotten more obvious. I’ll come home from running, sweat dripping off of each limb, glistening across my sternum, darkening the fabric of my sports bra, to a strange couple standing in my mom’s foyer, their conveniently-similar-in-age son just happened to be accompanying them to check out my mom’s bike. I get pestering, frequent insinuations that I must be a lesbian, since I don’t want to bring anyone home for the holidays (and I bought a Subaru) so strongly that I refuse to even consider the fact that I could even potentially find women attractive just because the minor chance they might be right is too infuriating that I just mentally have never allowed the question. 

But why do I care so much? 

What about their dismay at my happy solitude is so insulting to me? 

The fact in this life is whatever I achieve in life may be undermined by the lack of a male partner’s presence at my side. Sure, times are changing. Things are different now than they used to be. But the thoughts are still there. Whatever degrees I earn, jobs I hold, whatever a career looks like to me, will somehow seem sad, or lonely, if I opt to do it alone, whereas the male equivalent is revered and nobody asks whether you think you’ll regret focusing on it ten years from now (because, biologically, time is on your side so it doesn’t matter quite so much). If I had a dollar for every time one of the patients at my surgical dermatology job asked what was “wrong” with me because I wasn’t married yet…even after asking about my degrees and lifeplan, I may have been able to afford to stay at that job. If you think I’m exaggerating, and that “it’s not THAT bad anymore” “progress is being made”, explain to me why Emma Watson claiming she’s “Self partnered” is an ACTUAL news story. If we’ve ACTUALLY made that much progress with society, and women’s place, PLEASE justify why a single woman trying to find her place in the world and using her past experiences is pitied, constantly questioned, and statistically is at an increased risk for violence against her persona compared to her male counterpart. Has anyone ever asked Leonardo DiCaprio what is wrong with him for cycling through <25 year old girlfriends constantly? Suck my dick. 

From there, I wonder, do I actually think my family’s goal was trafficking me like Ghislaine Maxwell inevitably did to her victims? Or do I just think women’s role in the culturally relevant history to me and my ancestors just resembles female trafficking through use of legally enforced restrictions of whatever “freedoms” (or lack thereof) over my own existence that society wants me to have at that time? 

Is it just that I associate marriage with financial coercion and an abusive, controlling narrative because of my own experience, as well as the many, MANY similarly shared experiences with my friends, whereas that is just some kind of sample bias because of the environments I place myself in that draws similar people together? 

And, with a lengthy, repetitive, and globally cyclic patterns of female submission and inferiority of the sexes, arguably the one universally consistent, sociological trait of humanity, how is the concept of “marriage” any different, even in a Western country, when it is systematically interwoven with the increasingly difficult nature of raising a child, let alone multiple, on a single income, when the occupations commonly held by women are underfunded and underpaid (don’t even get me STARTED on education), and when sexual expression is still stigmatized so strongly that the “respectable” women are only those who reserve it for just their partner? 

Clue #5: If it looks like a duck and acts like a duck…

Speaking generally, the leaps between abuse are more of a mild hop, a casual stroll, a mindful gap. Remember those “slippery slopes” your parents spent hours warning you about? Domestic violence, sexual assault, sexual coercion, physical abuse, one tends to lead into the other and they don’t end up feeling that dissimilar from each other. At some point, it becomes a muted blend of apathy. Look up virtually any chronic reoffender in our criminal justice system–a system which HORRIBLY discards women, let alone children, for the fucking record, which I absolutely will speak separately on. One offense right after the other, yet they’re allowed to just reenter society because “not being a threat to women” is apparently different from “not being a threat to society”. Apparently, we just exclude women (or children) when we think about “society” as a whole.

In fact, in 2008 the Supreme Court ruled the death penalty for rape of a child was cruel and unusual punishment, even though the rape in question involved a man’s 8 year old stepdaughter and tore her perineum (the skin between the vagina and the butthole…also commonly torn during childbirth…the joys of femininity. Further side note… Shout out to Chrissy Tiegen for keeping it real on the internet,though).

Do you know what I think is “cruel and unusual punishment”, though?

Having been sexually assaulted multiple times, I can tell you right now that I’m going to be a dramatically changed person because of it. I have to actively work really, really hard at being a better person every single day because the reality of that, coupled with my PTSD, has provided me a cynically realistic view of the world. I know it will likely impact me the rest of my life, and I’ve learned to adjust my mindset to accommodate at continuing that slow, but gradual improvement, but it’s incredibly difficult in a country that does absolutely nothing to rehabilitate these offenders so they’re less likely to recommit, but also refuses to remove them from the gene pool, while also making it difficult for us to even access proper, affordable, and regular mental health care. It’s a system that has facilitated financial success and power for extorting the broken pieces for your own monetary gain, however easily, quickly, and long you can do it without being held accountable.

For the record, we could very easily look to European countries like Norway perhaps, who have some of the lowest crime rates and lowest rates of re-offenders with their prison system globally, so they must be doing at least something of minute importance we could take note of and try to apply. Marital rape wasn’t even a federal law in the USA until 1993! The year I was born! A man could rape his wife mercilessly, and that was completely cool.

Yet, you mean to tell me I’m not supposed to fucking talk about this? Or that I shouldn’t draw on personal experience to fuel the hell fire that is my career trajectory… or worse, it’ll ruin my chances of finding a suitable man? L M A O. I should just wait in the shadows until I MIGHT be lucky enough to actually be successful before I share it with anyone? I should be content with watching the uneducated cucks (actually, I should stop using that insultingly. Nothing wrong with that if it’s what you’re into) on CSPAN make policies affecting my livelihood and body and NOT use my social media to draw attention to this?

Much like Lady Gaga, I, also, am fueled largely on spite.

My desire to help society is not so much founded in my love of people as it is in my hatred for shitty people. (Emphasis on PEOPLE, and not just MEN, ahem… my hatred is not one-sided.)

In the USA particularly, at some point our values of what it means to be a decently good human being became vastly overshadowed by obsession with material wealth and consumerism, and it grosses me out just enough to keep me an active member of society, intent on trying to minimize my own ecological consequence and appreciate the wonders technology allows me to enjoy with ease, instead of moving to an island as a biologist for the remainder of my days much like the remarkable tale of Eloise Wehrborn de Wagner-Bosquet, the Galapagos baroness (this story also, coincidentally, involves multiple male lovers vying for their Paramore’s affection and was brought to me by the best murder square out there, Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark.) On a related note, I saw a meme today that said “I’m the granddaughter of the witches you couldn’t murder” and I felt a warm fuzzy feeling in my chest, so there’s that.

Because of this stress on outrageous materialism, it also makes sense that the entertainment industry really funneled the Me Too! Movement into what it is today, since objectification of women is most blatantly obvious when women’s bodies are figuratively and literally, replaceable, malleable, and directable. There was also no denying to the public JUST how influential those acts were in directly securing the positions or roles under question, because the financial incentives were publicly available information under each Wikipedia page for whatever film’s title or the IMDB for the actress was readily accessible.

Yet, what has come out of that? One creep remains in jail? The victims have to sign documentation preventing themselves from going public if they want any hopes of the financial pot? (But it’s too much money for our work-to-live country, so no matter how heinous the crimes actually were, the appeal eats away at you, justifiably so.)

The reality of our government’s refusal to acknowledge social justice issues like systematic racism, cycles of poverty, violence towards women, is because those topics will ultimately turn the conversation to criminal justice reform. The individualistic, greedy nature of capitalism will be called into question further and further until it can no longer be ignored that we aren’t actually creating a safe, secure zone for our children to grow up in. Instead, we elect those members to seats in our government, we revere them as well-standing members of the community, we reward them for the triumphant accolades their daughter’s garner as if it was their mind doing the work, or sprinting through that finish line. 

So why do I have so much overwhelming passion-induced anxiety, a NEED to devote myself to acknowledging and addressing this? Why can’t I just let these intense topics fade in the archives, diving into the new headlines like the average American citizen? Particularly when it seems like my life is relatively decent, well-adjusted? I “turned out fine”, I “should stop whining”, “how is this even relevant to you”, “quit being dramatic”. (If you’re thinking that right now, though (aka probably my family), let’s take a collective moment to acknowledge the fact that you’re mentally bitching about me, but still spending the time to read this. Stay in your lane and just hate in silence, for all of our sakes. Kanye West has taught me that no press is bad press (or does that only work for men?) and even if this blog ends up imploding in a 2008-era-Britney-Spears-headshave-mental-breakdown, read the caption… “it’s COMEDY!” (I hope you read that in the voice of Alexandra Cooper from Call Her Daddy). 

At some point in the mental process, you realize you enjoy learning about other’s stories, historically, in my case, all aspects of true crime but recently focused more intensely on the victims of Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell, because you find solace in their shared understanding of torment. You feel a sense of relief that the world is allowing them a platform to not fade away into oblivion. That living through it MEANT something.

You take pride knowing that the normalcy of developing the skill of quickly shutting your emotions down, unreadable, the ease of flipping that mental switch so you could think solely on logic, at your most unpredictable, was developed as a result of the trauma. That you see more logically, and analytically before than ever, but are almost robotic in that sense, overactive, always scanning. 

And with said aforementioned logic, what may have just been a cut-and-dry case of the traditional, harsh lifestyle of an alcoholic farmer with a knack for domestic violence could just as plausibly have been the grooming stages of a far more expansive network of modern day trafficking given the statistical outcome of intergenerational trauma and substance abuse disorders, you just lacked the awareness at the time to notice the details. You also continue to trust in your gut, because every accusation that ever was called “crazy” by your ex boyfriends were usually pretty spot-on. 

Because just the very idea that You, someone who tends to not necessarily lead with empathy, becomes overwhelmed with this physical need to devote your life to addressing these issues, even though you’re likely setting yourself up for a lifestyle of cyclic relative loneliness, repaying debt, and investing in your education as a desperate hope of bringing a sense of understanding to your own mind, is such an insane concept. That you’ve been bullied into believing dreams of professional degrees, a gap year to enjoy life at your own pace renders you selfish beyond repair and “wasting your life” because the very idea that you could want more of your life than to marry and have children was blasphemous and somehow insulting to them? But, sure, Ricky, I’m a real “Dr. Death” just because I aspire for a doctoral degree and a lifetime of happiness with my chosen family that actually “gets” me. Fucking sue me for wanting to do more than vote idly by the rest of my life even if it means that I’m poor and cry every so often if I’m helping others. I still struggle with the insinuation of acknowledging abuse at any level, particularly because the distant ringing of “Go ahead! Call CPS! See how much better you like the foster system!” I heard my father repeat all too well lingers at the connotation. But, at some point in therapy, you just have to get over the hurdle of what your brain is refusing to allow your mouth to say and blurt it out. 

In public health, the most important factor of any initiative is stakeholders–the people who care so passionately about these issues because it personally affects them enough to want to make a difference. It draws into question my own passion. Why do I care so much about it? Why shouldn’t I just be content with a nice little, modest suburban home and ride the coattails of my privilege to stability, throwing money at a GoFundMe as needed and feeling good about myself? Honestly, I don’t mind those people at all, as long as they’re using their awareness to create conversation in their own households. But why would I not be happy with that? The answer is simply that my own experiences of sexual violence, physical and emotional abuse render it necessary for me to reevaluate the sincerity of these feelings. I’ll be the first to admit it sounds ludicrous, but much like that list of similarities between Lincoln and Kennedy that floats around the internet every few years, there are undeniable overlaps and I can’t deny the desperate, almost illogical emotional needs working as motivators throughout my career, insurmisable in any other sense other than “I REALLY wanted to [do that].” 

Psychology and the State of the World for Women…

Uncovering the extensive network of trafficking (underage) women (children) that was/is Jeffrey Epstein’s world requires knowledge of just how these actions affect the “survivors” who live the rest of their lives in fear. 

My reality is that imagining the type of fear, shame, and residual trauma those women must feel causes me to revisit my own distant, lingeringly painful memories tucked away under lock and key . Even though I had “long forgotten” some of these issues, keeping them placated in the background by an overwhelming amount of business, I still filled that busy time by studying the body (perhaps making that choice subconsciously?) and subsequently coming to understand how these things that encompass my timeline have literally changed my own physiological and hormonal chemistry, for better or worse. Each new paper on PTSD treatment, the physiological effects of chronic stress, seminars on interdepartmental learning offered clarity. That clarity, though, doesn’t, and won’t stop me from changing from running on my favorite rural, countryside trails to well-populated, publicly-surveilled paths for safety and comfort, even if I hate the pavement, need to carry my phone, and longer drive. Nor does it keep me out of the gym in the off chance that somewhere down the line, I’ll need to fend off an attacker, and want to be physically capable of holding my own if so. So, whenever news of something as insane, outrageous, and despicable as human trafficking comes up, the conversation inevitably turns to mental health, forging a “new normal”, and actually vindicating it means acknowledging those people didn’t have a choice at some point and they can be a “victim” and simultaneously want acknowledgment, crave communities of mutual understanding, and facilitate growth without that defining who they are or making them helpless. 

“Justice” after these events, if anyone is actually held accountable, also has many interpretations, but ultimately involves subjectively deciding on an “unequal but relatively fair” sentencing in repentance for some previous ideology, action, or thought. Part of establishing a “just” punishment involves understanding the mentality, the thought process behind the actions. The reasons people traffic women and young girls, though, is the same mentality that applies to the rich’s necessity to acquire any other tangible good. In the game of life, women, along with everything else in the USA, have a price, and can thus be owned.

Only, in the USA, we’ve outlawed prostitution, we’ve injected Christian virtues into every vein on our body in such withdrawal-laden intensity that we overdosed our government and local culture so nudity, the female body, and sexuality are still taboo in that, we can at least vote (between two shitty white men who both want to or have historically participated in making legislative dictations to our bodies, using their views on what rights we “should be allowed” to have as political strategies) but WOMEN ON ENTERTAINMENT PODCASTS ARE CRITICIZED FOR TALKING ABOUT SEX. The “is there no privacy!” argument gets thrown around even though these women are literally talking to their friends from the comfort of their own homes and putting it online, but MEN who talk about it freely and have been doing so for AGES, literally since men first got together and decided they would unionize, (there is a REASON Game of Thrones depicted the wildlings, an interpretation of feral humans, as metal as nature in a nomadic world as savage creatures, humanities stripped comparatively even to mythological renaissance-style times, and it wasn’t because the women were savage without reason), MEN who clearly fuck anything with legs and a vagina (and I honestly think, especially judging by a quick scan (read: several HOURS of research into) options of sex toys available to them, the legs are questionably required), those MEN get revered as gods. Their sexual charisma, chiseled body, unattainable attitude is a PERK to literally every single career they could hold.

The Kardashians get murdered on social media, even when they talk about fertility concerns, learning how to navigate raising biracial children as a parent, the criminal justice system, but y’all still support the NFL who takes a blatantly dismissive outlook on the players who beat their women multiple times. Y’all WORSHIP the turf that man walks on because his ability to catch a ball in a COMPLETELY MADE UP SPORT THAT NO OTHER COUNTRY PLAYS (and therefore isn’t even justifiable for anything outside of purely entertainment value) is more important than the fact that he ran a dog-fighting ring, or nearly beat a woman to death. Y’all glorify cage fighting and potentially beating another man to death on internationally broadcast television as a “manly” sport and justify the money as being worth the risk of permanent brain damage, if not death, or chronically aggressive interactions with families that include children. Y’all continue funding a rapper, sending him to the top of the musical hits charts, who has openly admitted to raping a 13 year old girl, JUST LIKE THE ACCUSED THIS ENTIRE BLOG HAS THUS FAR TOUCHED ON, but Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion talking about their pussies being wet during sex (AS THEY SHOULD BE) gets y’all all hyped and bothered. Ciara taught me a looooong time ago not to get worried about all that, though. So I won’t sweat it.

Destigmatizing females using social media as a platform to talk freely about their experiences as a female, the good, the bad, and the ugly, is literally what the goal of social media is supposed to be. It’s SUPPOSED to be about creating a community for people to be some version of themselves. So why do we shun it when that version is an authentically free woman? 

Creating these conversations, has secondary implications, though. The real “trickle down economics” is that destigmatizing female sexuality also means addressing violence towards women–law enforcement may actually begin to thoroughly investigate when a legally represented sexworker goes missing. 

Destigmatizing feminine conversation in general, usually coaligns with increased access to mental health resources–women LIKE talking about our problems (usually), it’s even more fun when they’re paid to listen patiently! (Just kidding about the listening patiently part, therapy is so much more than that and my therapist has worked me into some corners. Claire, if you’re reading this, 1. I am so sorry I haven’t updated you in a while, 2. Please don’t write a case study about me, I’m obviously writing it about myself and 3. You are a gift to this earth). 

Destigmatizing female conversation might also improve lives for men–you can actually understand us better, talk about your own feelings, learn about what unique and terrifyingly beautiful creatures we are at every level of our beings, and, because it usually tends to be the most important thing to you that “does at least 30% of male thinking” (according to this guy I met in graduate school), your sex lives would probably VASTLY improve because you wouldn’t be scared to ask or try new things in the bedroom, you wouldn’t be worried things could “feel a little gay” when literally it is just you and your girlfriend in the room, you would learn that if you invested even half the emotional capacity into learning our own bodies as an adult with a new perspective and learned experiences as you did to yourself when you were a kid and your dick got hard for the first time, you might ACTUALLY get us (read: females) to willingly revere your mediocre cock with as much enthusiasm as we do our orgasmic sculptures of silicone tucked inside the nightstand’s drawer. 

Of the five safest countries in the world for women, almost all have legal prostitution, for the record. Keeping prostitution illegal in the USA as a direct result of the stigma surrounding female sexuality, also keeps barriers like “professionalism” on social media and every other aspect of your life controllable by your job–holding your healthcare, financial security, home at the mercy of your supervisor. How many men do you think have formal complaints logged into their HR files over being shirtless on social media? Or in bathing wear?  (I’m looking at you, #MedBikini)

It’s the same concept behind criminalizing marijuana, but making it illegal only made it illegal for poor people.  It keeps the majority of money (and power) lined in the pockets of the rich, (white) men who control the brothels in Las Vegas, it makes women who only care about money (which is, again, COMPLETELY FINE IN A CAPITALIST ECONOMY) resort to valuing themselves at only $7 a month for an OnlyFans or $1000 a scene to be immortalized on pornhub (IF you get paid at all and don’t just have your revengeporn thrown up there!), when they should be getting PAID to allow others in their mystical sexual presence. But, because it is illegal, and there is no discord, no discussion around what our bodies are actually worth, all stigmatizing sexuality does (in a historically heteronormative society), for women, is keep them subservient to men because they can’t use all of their skills and talents to their advantage, or every communication is word-of-mouth instead of women creating businesses, hiring legal security, ensuring partners are testing for sexually transmitted diseases and using safe methods. 

Side note, in case you were curious, if I didn’t have so many hang ups because of my “daddy issues”, you better bet your ass that I would 100% let my thousands of dollars of student loans from my grad and next program be paid for by some lonely 40+ year old dude if I could legally do it and wasn’t constantly worried about getting murdered by the shady nature of it. Or even if some nerdy, rich guy somehow found me and was like “hey can you be my girlfriend for $150,000 a year, I’m lonely and want to travel the world” you can BET my passport would be the first mother fucking thing stamped. I will GLADLY be your muse if you can fund me a few years of the freedom to think and learn more about the world from a perspective I can’t currently attain purely from a financial standpoint. The happiness that comes from a business-like decision out of logic to meet financial and physical needs with someone willing to openly communicate and add a significant level of ease to your life is absolutely something I should not feel “GUILTY” for. How is that any worse than the absolutely shitty men (read: normal, average white guys well advanced in their careers and seen by society as “successful”) getting to use my body sexually, including the ones who were honestly complete shit in bed (I like to rescue animals of all kinds, apparently) who I took under my wing like a young Anakin Skywalker, only to cheat and blatantly, unacceptably disrespect me years later after significant emotional investment on my end?

My career would never just up and leave me and I would 100% fund it and my economic stability in this manner if it wasn’t one more stupid fucking obstacle to being “respected” that women have to deal with. 

Back to the point.

Female trafficking is a necessity to these people, a craving for power and validation over others, commonly to inflate the egoes of the rich. Much like the foreshadowed warnings of “The Most Dangerous Game”, the nature of humanity is to acquire power over another. Once you get bored with owning things, you want to up the stakes. The ability to view actual human beings as a “commodity”, their feelings disregarded because you think you pay them well enough to not have any. And since our economy and culture centers around money, it may be enough to keep them significantly quiet. The ability to separate reality (and even legality) from practicality, so you don’t feel guilty over the choices you make. Those sociopathic-like tendencies are typically reserved for both the world’s most powerful leaders and lethal criminals. They can flip the switch on empathy, if it’s not permanently stuck in the “off” position (sound familiar).

And who better to quantify that, than someone who has had no choice but to be increasingly aware that level of horror in the world exists.

Yet, even if you spend your entire career under a public vow to dismantle it, or at the very least actually illuminating what a problem it is and how strongly it ties into the position of women within our society, how can you possibly still be “good” when you also lack the emotional capacity to care about public sentiment when sharing it as a stream of consciousness. And there’s definitely no way you can be morally good by feeling a need to speak out, to publicly acknowledge how you interact with the world after being shaped by your own somewhat similar experiences, to even potentially profit off of it down the line? Selfish. 

Pete Davidson walked in his post-Ariana-break-up interviews so I could run on a blog.

It’s these types of questions in my analysis that make the complexities of the human mind, the memories these stories jog for me, and the importance of widely available, high quality mental health resources that much more intriguing.

For instance, I’ve heavily questioned my sexuality as a scientist, because with my educational pursuit of my undergraduate and graduate degrees, and the subsequent increase in knowledge on what “science” actually is, one comes to find that “science” is just inherently questioning the nature of reality. In medicine, you learn the biological response as to why something feels good. The chemical release, the uptake by receptors, the action potentials propagating through your skin. And yet, you exist, grew up, flourished in a world that has socially convinced you that acting on these propagations will ostracize you–even if they’re literally not hurting anyone, it’s your own body, etc. You grew up engrained with ideology that “marriage is only legally acceptable between a man and a woman”, “you should only have a single partner at a time” “marriage is controlling, manipulative, and should be for life even when you absolutely hate each other” and were somehow not supposed to rebel against it, even though the whole world was at your fingertips in every other aspect. Not to mention the interpretation of a book intended to instill and redress moral values, the stories of love, learning how to express yourself, coming of age, also condemning you to hell for biological temptations that you couldn’t stop and that, ultimately, were NORMAL.

But this was America! Women, especially white, hot, blonde women, were able to really BE somebody! It’s selfish for me to even be angry about, or question, any aspect of my previous lives because the opportunities they’ve given me proves the world is at my fingertips! Barbie had every different role possible. My Kirsten American Girl doll mimicked my Amish neighbor’s lifestyle. My cousins won “model” searches down at the local mall. My life was the set up in every movie that graced mainscreen Hollywood growing up. I even looked like Mary Kate and Ashley Olsen in my 90’s photos. That’s the harsh part though–all of my heroes were just fake characters. They weren’t based on any women in actuality. Other than sports athletes, I had no knowledge of role models that were representative of who “I” was at the time. Until “Hidden Figures” came out in 2016, I didn’t think anyone even cared about the hardships of women in STEM. Prior to that, I was only learning about men whose LIFE work I was studying that could now be boiled down to a semester-long, 3-hour course twice a week. It’s a tough thing to realize that the world you live in was not created for you. It was created for who you are physically, but you push the boundaries just a little too much because of the thoughts inside your head that question the purpose behind these technological advances and societal values when they don’t seem to actually improve our lives enough to allow us to slow down and enjoy the natural pace of humanity. Those kinds of thoughts don’t just create a minor ripple, even if that’s how you start out, you explode from seemingly nothingness like the Beirut explosion. 

(( Side note: donate to the Lebanon Red Cross here > ))

Mindy Kaling once had her character on The Mindy Project state, “tattling is when a young girl does it, when a hot woman does it, it’s called whistle blowing”. Yet, I don’t consider this “Whistle blowing”, in any way. Having the audacity to question my background is seen as the same “disgraceful” or a “tainted image” on my family, as if I came in blazing hot, making concrete, direct connections between the two theories. I would just like to blissfully point right back that if my family didn’t want me to write about them or go through this, mentally, then maybe they could’ve given me a little more love and support over the past decade (or even like, during the timeline for any of these events to take place so the memories wouldn’t be cloaked in mystery).

But, apparently, unconditional love is not guaranteed just by biological relation.

Funny how that works out, isn’t it.

(Thankfully, that makes it just as freely available from a “chosen” family forged from those you meet in life. For every shitty person in the world, there are just as many good ones willing to give love freely and without expectation because they never were on the receiving end of such an arrangement. They might be a little harder to find, but they’re there.) 

At some point in your research, as mentioned at the beginning of this post, you studied the trends of scientific discovery and the lives of those you were following behind–how those who came later were often depressed, unhappy with the state of their lives, the ensuing struggle with the enticing curiosity of knowledge that could topple societies. The obsession with each other’s work, the indulgence in exchange of passionate thoughts. Art and science interwoven so deeply that for you to truly achieve self actualization, you know you will have to acknowledge the passion behind it. 

And in recognizing that conundrum, you noted the actual experiments weren’t as intriguing to you as a topic of focus as the method of communication in which one pursuit built upon another. The method in which one scientific achievement spread–the blossom of communities, the growth of ideas, the ability to grow from words, and abstract concepts.

Would these scientists have been so depressed if they hadn’t had to wallow in their misery alone? 

Would they look at society, all of the “progress” stemming from their inventions, and be proud of how that contribution was mutilated (built upon)?

What about the scientists who created the atomic and hydrogen bombs? How do they feel about the state of the world these days? How much did they know, or actually understand, about the consequences of their actions? 

What’s the purpose of avidly working towards a theoretical future when you have the ability to make a tangible influence on another’s life locally, today? How did you choose what to prioritize? And how did you know doing that was “right”?

You finally had the time to slow down and watch as pieces of the puzzle revealed that the pursuit of higher degrees in medicine, law, or biological science wasn’t necessarily your end goal, though they were a means to an end. For the record, they were also logical, as you had no current plans or even prospects of marrying, no “need” for biological children of your own, and they would conveniently increase your lifelong earning potential as well as how rewarding it is to annihilate mansplainers, but nobody wanted to hear about that because their dreams of grandchildren were slowly disintegrating much like when Bing Bong faded into oblivion in Pixar’s take on explaining the importance of acknowledging your emotions, formally known as “Inside Out”.

Your end goal was the pursuit of having your voice acknowledged, heard, and appreciated just a little bit more.

And to do that, you had to start to talk. 

Was I Almost Ghislaine Maxwell-ed?

I would like to preface this by saying I, as an epidemiologist, understand that human trafficking, sexual violence, violence towards women, etc. are incredibly unfortunate issues in today’s society. Much like coronavirus, I think the issues in society are not, in fact, getting worse, they are merely being filmed. (A popular sentiment being passed around the twittersphere, according to Reddit.) In no way am I trying to undermine or sensationalize the severity of it. I am just exploring the world of memoir blogging, whilst possibly risking a breach of national security and careful scolding from my biological father (should he be present in my life to have a valid influence over my decisions), and spending the excessive amount of time available for me to freely exist while spiraling myself into existential dread with psychoanalysis of my self-proclaimed “daddy issues”. 

Much like how my favorite badass true crime ladies, Karen Kilgariff and Georgia Hardstark of “My Favorite Murder”,start the beginning of their live shows, I would like to reiterate that this is MY written word and should you dislike it you can kindly get the fuck out.

The premise of this blog will essentially dive into the satirical comedy of my life as I entrench myself in exploring the volatility of my repressed memories and psychoanalytic review of the history of “me”. As an ENTJ, epidemiologist, celebrated athlete, biochemist, and woman, I have held many roles within this world already. Yet still, I feel somewhat lost excelling in a world that was not created with me in mind and seems so resistant to change. 

Thanks to a LOT of hours of watching, re-watching, and then assessing “The Office” and “The Mindy Project”, I finally saw my personality reflected in popular culture. Historically, as a white-blonde haired, blue-green eyed, 5’7” athlete, I have physically been represented, for which I am grateful, though I was then confined to roles of helpless Princesses waiting for a handsome prince, the damsel in distress, the Fiona not the Shrek. Out of all of the compliments I’ve ever received (and believe me, not even in a “braggy” way, but there have been a lot), my favorite one was “you have a beautiful mind”. It’s difficult to get taken seriously, for all of the incredibly stereotypical reality that is the magical wonder of Reese Witherspoon’s “Legally Blonde”, when the male-dominated field of chemistry, biochemistry, and (historically) medicine, sees the energetic eagerness of a golden retriever in human form and discards it to the side, tells it to “tone it down”, tries to funnel you into a shell of who you are.

A lot of boundaries are being broken around the globe lately. For better or for worse, the average citizen also is arming themselves with the real financial currency of the world: intelligence. What the wealthy really buy for themselves, a premise cultivated by Amanda Seyfried and Justin Timberlake’s 2011 Sci-fi thriller “In Time” is just that–time. The time to not have to do the more “mundane” tasks of the world. The ability to afford less stress–not so as to say the wealthy don’t have stress of their own, but so they can afford to prioritize quality of life. They can afford to reflect. They can afford to enjoy life at the pace of their leisure–however fast or slow that may be. They can afford to sit and think without distraction.

So in a world of thought, where does a fairly introverted skeptic who walks through life like one of the elves from Lord of the Rings but feels the inner pull of Sméagol/Gollum’s cognitive dissonance fit in? 

In a world where different kinds of thought are accessible all over the world, I wanted to figure out a way to share the art that is my life that may include, but isn’t tied to, my appearance. I am well aware of how narcissistic this may come across, but frankly, at some point in one’s life, you have to prioritize YOURSELF. I’m 27, single with no plans of changing, living in Washington, D.C., and trusting the direction of Miley Cyrus, Beyonce, and Taylor Swift amongst others to put into words, visuals, and musical sequence the way I felt for years with no form of expression and the way I feel trying to healthily navigate that in a realm that finally allows us to “talk about it”. Not all of us come from happy homes with warmth and love. Some of us process our emotion through expression, learning from it as it comes and goes. 

Yet, how does one share their thoughts when their entire online presence has been, and could be, tied back to, and used against knowledge of their personal identity? When they grew up thinking knowledge of even a single red solo cup in a photo would ruin their chance of success? When their military family meant no social media was allowed in general, due to concerns over data security? When the risk of their very curious nature could also ruin their chances at their dreams? The same creativity that inspires them so artistically and has made them feel so passionately about every aspect of their life is meant to be shut off. The fluidity of events that built up to this inspired person should be muted, tucked away in a box of memories, and certainly NEVER publicly acknowledged. The very reason that one is as gifted as they are should be sheltered from the world, and from oneself, so they have to float through life ever questioning, in suspicious loneliness, in illuminated confusion. 

So, with that in mind, I want to create a space where I can figure out a way to express, benefit from, and inspire other like-minded individuals, but most of all individuals who may just get drawn in by one facet of me, to get insight to some stuff they may never have seen before, and maybe, just maybe, come out just a little more educated, emotionally intelligent, reflective, whatever. It’s not like I’m an egomaniac like Elon Musk or Kanye West and trying to play God with people’s lives, so I figure my opinion might be a little bit more rational and worth a damn. 

I also LOVE logic and debate, so please understand that I, as a chronic student cycling from career-to-degree-to-career-to-degree as I care to, having lived all over the East coast, and traveling to several states amongst the company of high-profile personnel over the years, am constantly learning as I go. I think the whole point in my career as a student has not so much been the subject matter of my learning, but rather the process itself. I never want to not be learning. 

That being said, I have studied…quite a lot. As an epidemiologist, of all of the plagues that I’ve studied, humanity is by far, the worst. Yet, as a woman (and aforementioned lover of true crime), I have a sick fascination with watching the possible statistical trajectories of my life revisioned before me. I will be wrong (probably most of the time, actually, but, as I said, I walk through life like an elf… it’s not exactly “normal”, so I will never admit it to anyone outside of my close friend group and then any random strangers on the internet who happen across this. 

Thus the birth of the study of their, and my own, behavior via dramaturgical memoir in the form of a modified ~influencer~ blog. 

Side note…why are we even criticizing “influencers”, brands, or celebrities of pop culture in general of not speaking up from an academic perspective? We should be championing it. The fact that some people are mad that hot girls are monetizing themselves in a capitalist economy probably has the same views my own Grandpa was VERY vocal of, in that women (and subsequently, myself) shouldn’t have the right to vote. 

But guess what, Grandpa! Not only can I vote, but my tastefully nude photos can be showcased on the same website as my recollections of your war stories and desperate (though incredibly cool and intriguing) search for our genealogy. 

We should be reaching out to, educating, helping those very same hot girls to take an interest in and learn about the world they’ve found themselves lucky enough to be successful in. 

We shouldn’t mock their bright colors, catchy dances or vulgar phrases because “cursing isn’t lady like”, telling them to not utilize a platform that allows that repressed creativity to filter through. 

We shouldn’t funnel athletes, people who have met, interacted, and shared experiences with thousands on a national or global stage into muting their performances, resigning them to using an armband or kneeling to be the only acceptable form for them to speak out in. 

We shouldn’t stifle the voices of women in healthcare, or the underrepresented in general, resulting in them feeling as if their dramatic passion must be quieted in the profession.

But, to understand their voices, to have access to the minds, the theory, the logic behind their choices, to really know who they are behind the scenes, the true intimacy of humanity, we must first figure out a way or it to be heard. 

_____________________________________

So, back to the premise of the title and thus, “blog post #1” (please be nice, I do not consent to any “Roast Me” Reddit posts, should any show up about me, they are photoshopped I am just telling you that right now). 

Now that I’m home, on our family farm outside Washington, D.C. in this 2020 dystopia “summer” of coronavirus, my online school is completed, and I’m no longer living in a hotel and calling people who “just died last night”, I finally have the time to sit down and think about how I feel about “me”. I’m usually very introspective as is, which you would probably guess purely from my years of experience dabbling in hot yoga.

Naturally, this introspection has now spiraled me down the rabbit hole that I was raised in the equivalent of a secret military training program, my daddy issues are related to repressed memories of child trafficking, and the breakdown of my family began when it became clear I was not redeemable or able to be used in the way I was intended (as an ornament to be auctioned off one day, as most women who marry are). 

I also quite possibly just need to unfollow the conspiracy theories subreddit because I fully acknowledge how insane this will sound. I would also like to reiterate it will inevitably be a sick, twisted level of satirical comedy and will not be everyone’s cup of tea. (If anything, it’ll be like a trainwreck you can’t possibly tear your eyes away from.) With quarantine, the investigation into Epstein, and smoking a fair amount of weed (sorry, Mom), the paranoia that I may have repressed memories over my own father revealed the following.

Clue #1: My family net of interwoven secrecy

My entire life, I had access to things most people associate with “higher society”. A naive little farm girl, tucked away from the realities of the world, a family commune with a Colonel for a Grandpa who served in World War II, Korea, and Vietnam. Because of his military background, his years spent at West Point both as a student and a professor, the horrors of reality he saw overseas, we had the security of growing up in the same house, my entire life, just outside of the hub of global affairs. Just outside of where the actual decisions were being made in Washington, D.C. Just outside of the buildings where people’s lives are reduced to the very statistics I now study, and manipulate, and have to be tasked with prioritizing at my own interest, or what I choose to “care” about that day. Just outside of where the monuments, structures, and memorials were enacted, of where history was being made, commemorated, and shared, of where both my maternal grandfather and biological father worked for the Pentagon in a variation of Aerospace Engineering, Nuclear weaponry development, and Military tactics for nearly every single major military event in US history and worked as a unit with other governmental faces to contribute to influencing the fate of the world. 

Since I was a woman, though, they didn’t think that I would be watching, or aware, of the insight freely available to me purely by an alignment of genetic cells. My grandfather’s words were some variation of refusing to share anything with me because I was a “feeble minded woman” who “shouldn’t have the right to vote” heavily juxtaposed by my biological father encouraging me to be an equal to my older brother, or any man. 

Nevertheless, I was certainly happy. I was supplied with as many ponies as I wanted, got to join the Girl Scouts, then became a Brownie, pony club! (After I came across “The Saddle Club” series in the local public library), private school, dressed up and paraded out every Thanksgiving as a turkey, and every Christmas as an angel, nevermind how much you absolutely HATED mass congregations and forced theatre. A welsh pony, chestnut brown–just like the one in my latest book, followed by an Icelandic import from Canada, showing up in the middle of the night, his bay coat illuminated by the moonlight like wet pavement. Hundreds of presents on holidays! It was never given though–no, certainly not a gift. Everything was a reward, positive reinforcement for my hours in the gym, days spent in the saddle, diligence with my reading. 

So when my parents switched me to public school in second grade, to better accommodate my transition into the elite gymnastics circuit–on an olympic development track, I also began climbing the rankings in horse competitions. Moving from dressage to showjumping to eventing, adding in games and polocrosse as easily as I added in another pony. I collected trophy after trophy, in literally everything I tried. Once one discipline got boring, another quickly took its place. The events I read about in books well beyond my grade level, devouring page after page, were actually happening for me. 

And I didn’t have to care about any of it. I was a soldier, after all. 

My grandfather saw to that. Respecting his authority was instilled deep within my being. The system worked, was rigid, was right. As long as I showed up, I got to play whatever I wanted. And I loooooooved to win. 

I had trainer after trainer freely available. A trampoline. Maybe I should pick up soccer? No, not on a girl’s team, it has to be a boy’s team. They’re more fun to play with. My identity became whatever was in front of me. And because I knew the value of hard work, knew that “talent” was a clever way of disguising hobbies as things you just decide you might like one day, and then try again and again until you’re eventually relatively decent at it, I didn’t need to question who I was. 

I collected title after title, the true value in the trophies being confined to the text engraved on the plate.  And as many achievements as I had on every soccer field, track, football complex, or horse ring in the state, I matched them, if not more, in school. My intelligence and calm demeanor floored teacher after teacher (a stark contrast to my older brother’s incessant energy). While I may not have acted out in class, I still spoke passionately, I engaged, I made myself heard in the situations I was allowed to, at every opportunity. Yet, I still only did it, when I was permitted to

My physical prowess and adaptability are almost surreal, and always have been. Academic and athletic excellence. All wrapped up in the muscular, blonde haired, blue-green eyed frame, it was scarily reminiscent of Angelina Jolie’s character’s upbringing in Soviet Russia in the movie, “Salt”. My resume was phenomenal, such that when I met someone who so obviously embellished theirs in graduate school, I was genuinely disgusted that anyone would lie on their resume. (Remember, naivety will be a recurrent theme.)

So where does Ghislaine Maxwell and our political/military background fall into this? 

Ghislaine Maxwell, news sensation, probably (definitely?) secretly dead in a cell, inevitably smuggled out, replaced by a body double from the coronavirus epidemic (some poor family of a white, brunette lady of slender build will be just another “misplaced” funeral mix-up, aye?) in a staged suicide, Kerri Washington will revisit her role as Olivia Pope on the magic that is (everything) Shonda Rhimes’ “Scandal” to “handle” it, the Cruella DeVil of child sex trafficking, you know the one. 

Well, I think it’s pretty safe to say, though also at the risk of coming up sounding like a big conspiracy theorist, that apart from Ghislaine Maxwell and other members of high society, most of the people actually controlling things on a global scale PRIOR to the big “boom”of tech with the emergence of the new millenium were the military leaders, and solely the military leaders. Prior to the convenience of having every household equipped for communication, the military and political figures were a string of name recognition picked largely by familial lineage or military prowess. If you were lucky, you revolutionized an industry and got involved with your cunning traditional academic intelligence (or just sheer luck). 

Either way, technology has made knowledge of the realities of the various currencies the world’s power is concentrated around that much more obvious to the average citizen. Money, military force, humans, women, children, bioterrorist agents, intelligence, the actual identity doesn’t matter. What ultimately matters is who the people are that can move the lives, identities, souls of societies around their Risk Boards at their discretion, and understanding that those people are generally not in those positions of power because it is an easy position to hold, or because they are morally righteous. With that in mind, I think it’s pretty reasonable to assume that nearly every single person who historically has or continues to exploit an under-serving system has a million skeletons in the closet and a million pieces of information capable of being thrown around indiscernible until the odds turn into their favor. 

From that draws the reasoning that my Grandfather, a distinguished military leader of our country, one who preferred to remain back in the shadows, secluded from the world yet readily accessible when needed, may have been involved at some point in his incredibly successful career, at using nefarious tactics to achieve a means to his end. It’s only logic that the same people pulling the strings behind the scenes, the ones actually responsible, for “containing” the horrors of the world were the military strategists. And to contain them means understanding them, studying them, being aware of them and their intricacies. Furthermore, our government, particularly our defense department, has a history of ethical concerns with their developmental training programs. 

My grandfather was a lot of things and as much as I respect (with a healthy whim of absolute horror towards) him for the life he created, I really don’t think it would be that implausible to think he may have tried to create a lineage that could be inserted into every position necessary to obtain intelligence with his own family and I was ultimately intended to be either married off or sold to the highest bidder in his circle. From that, the obvious trail of deductive reasoning yields I was likely meant to be an eventual target of Jeffrey Epstein and Ghislaine Maxwell’s extensive pedophilic ring. 

Which, for the record, is horrific, but is not that uncommon, humans just prefer to pretend like we aren’t just another animalistic species. Instead of clawing out their jugulars, we use those big brains and opposable thumbs to systematically torture our prey into submission. To eviscerate their humanity into nonexistence and proceed to position their body as we please, convincing ourselves that they must enjoy it to some extent just because of their biological, physical reactions. We peel back the layers of emotions one by one until none exist, but delude ourselves that they have free choices, a good life, they’re lucky

And given that my grandfather (and likely my father to a lesser extent) ran in and rather LED our country through some of the most horrific infractions against human life seemingly possible, I have to argue…who, amongst them, wasn’t involved in some extensively heinous activity? Or how do you not engage in especially heinous activity when you learn to live that wildly, that savagely, that destructively? And what then, was my Grandfather guilty of? What was he guilty of that kept him desperately clinging to mortality from his bed in the veteran’s home, hallucinating his memories, for days while we held his hand? What was he actually doing when he was carted off to some random geolocation on the planet for weeks, or months, on end?

To be clear, he was a GREAT, absolutely phenomenal man, and I do in fact feel like a dick even questioning my history. Not enough of a dick to not actually write it, but the guilty premise is there. Thanks to my catholic ex-boyfriend, I was taught to just ignore that notion and pray for forgiveness later. 

Which means reflecting back on the manner in which I was raised, the trajectory of my life, the buildup of everything magically working out despite no shortage of near-death or existential crisis, the question, naturally develops into whether my own lineage, hidden in the shadows of public knowledge, should be under question? The easily-controlled (bought) narrative of limited press, of word of mouth, the altered or confidential military records, it isn’t limited to the USA. Sure, Trump is shitty and likely guilty but SO ARE LITERALLY EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THOSE PEOPLE IN ANY OF THOSE CIRCLES OF “HIGH SOCIETY”. 

…But, by design, this could include my own family. 

______________________________________________

So far we’ve connected that military and public figures (the “wealthy”) basically run the world because they have some form of power (currency) to design their own worlds. Just a few generations ago, this was decided by genealogy and luck. Decided decades in advance by powerful men in a powerful room under the impression they all possessed a premonition on “progress” in a society worthy of value. 

Then came the somewhat unpredictability of “technology”. And with “technology” came  a whirlpool of achievements: public accelerations in travel, methods of communication, massive and intercultural spread of knowledge occurring from the safety of one’s own home. Suddenly, a new trajectory broke off… the interwoven nature of the world’s rich, exacerbated and torpedoed by the USA celebrity culture, upsetting the traditional militaristic leadership of succession in our government and no longer unnecessary to acknowledge with the culmination of the 2016 presidential election. 

Any system exploitable can also be weaponized in the same sense. With technology, the same rich people who ruled the world and had been raised on the expectations that it would one day be handed to them began to be “exposable”–a threat only increased and immediately to their dismay by arming every citizen with their own way to record evidence. So what, ultimately, threatened to topple the careful succession of global progression the most? What should be exploited by those in power or desperate to achieve power? Intelligence

Intelligence. 

Intelligence as a currency is the most important long-term payout. Climate change, public health, environmental health, societal influence by mother nature and the biodiversity of the planet is how war’s have ultimately been won in the past. Of what actually gives someone the upper hand generation after generation. My grandfather knew that, and it’s why he reportedly helped change the trajectory of the Korean War. The Department of Defense, blatantly corrupt governments, seemingly smooth regimes of monarchical tradition, all of the political leaders know that intelligence is ultimately just questioning the unknown. Which is a science, a study, an -ology. 

The ‘best’ military leaders take that knowledge and weaponize it in a long-instilled survival instinct of “self preservation”. Those novel inventions intended for innocent use become weapons of mass destruction five inventions down the line.

Which makes the most dangerous asset, then, the scientists.

The one who have access to the limits. The ones who usually enjoy discreetly existing in the background, emerging from our labs to report our results to others who then go on to make the decisions. So what if you could weaponize that in the form of a trained woman, capable of playing any role given to her, classically conditioned to never question authority? 

It would be logical, at least. Only emphasized by the ever-amassing sequence of coincidences that form the tangled spider-web of my life. It’s a real-life version of the meme of Charlie Day in Horrible Bosses when he’s trying to explain how everything connects. Side note: If this is anything remotely close to what detectives do all day, I may need to consider yet another career change. Thus, I’m just pointing out that it’s a LITTLE suspicious that a beautiful blonde-haired blue-green eyed athletic fireball who is good at just about everything and now has degrees in biochemistry and epidemiology from two top ten universities and has also traveled the world under a lot of incredibly convenient situations with a lot of relatively important people may have been part of a discontinued genealogical CIA mission to develop the next generation of agents to insert into the realm of the rich. 

Clue #2: My Father 

Without getting into the depths of it, I have, what one could classify as “daddy issues”.

The frustration of being a hot, blonde, white girl who loves to test her limits both sexually and physically means that self-reflection inevitably draws me to concern over Freudian’s psychoanalytic connection with my enjoyment in being consensually degraded by men of my choice with the manner in which I was raised. As a scientist, when I study these theories, I naturally connect them to myself to increase my neuronal connective network and ability for recall via compartmentalization in the future. Despite distant hummings of “correlation does not prove causation”, that is still a debate as ancient as “what came first: the chicken or the egg?” And I fit right into the stereotype. 

My kind of sexual kinks are certainly not normal, and while I won’t elaborate just yet, it absolutely has called into question whether my fetishes are engrained into my incredibly dominant persona because of “nature”–evident by all of the home videos of me as a difficult child, or the militant, disciplined regimen of my “nurture”. When I start to inevitably become both overwhelmed and slightly disgusted by the possible reasoning behind my sexual interests, I at least find comfort in reminding myself that it’s not just my own household that, as a woman, restricts me. It’s having to explain myself every fucking time, its growing up as a trophy, some ornament to society for my family, just to suddenly have an ability to make my own choices. It’s having people be “surprised” at my intelligence. It’s having an entire group of people assume they can have a priority over me, judge me, tell me where my place is. 

Thus, the frustration in society’s obsession to connect that purely to my father is just disturbing. 

And my best friend, the person who helped me survive undergrad from literally every single year in Chapel Hill has just as complex of a relationship with her father. She, too, was thrown into the elite gymnastics world, a high society father, thrown into dance as well as gymnastics, but, unlike me, she actually enjoyed the girlier aspects of “womanhood”. She smiled in all of the photos of her dressed up, paraded around for the amusement of others, whereas I glared threateningly at every camera. 

Yet, where I explored my sexual promiscuity, she took the opposite route. A virgin in college, but an incredibly beautiful girl (this is only relevant because she’s pretty in such a way that you KNOW it wasn’t because she “lacked options” or some bullshit like that). As her best friend, we spent hours together, contemplating why she was so mentally hesitant to proceed past OTPHJ and dry-humping filled make out sessions. We also didn’t quite realize just how absolutely terrified of seeing a male penis she was until I set my friend Carl’s as her phone background at a gymnastics meet…she screamed and cried upon flipping it open. At 20 years of age. it was definitely not a normal reaction, and as we both have a truly vile disdain for our fathers, we’ve inevitably discussed at length the possibility of having repressed memories of them.

We bonded over our childhood depression, we’ve discussed our similarities in struggles at length, and taken solace in the shared experience of our increasingly distant relationships with our fathers where, try as we might, there are incessant warning lights of pain every single time they come back into our lives. So why, if it seems like they didn’t actually do anything that severe, do we feel such hatred? Such deep-rooted, illogical, survival instinct-like hatred telling us to run the opposite way from them if we want a happy life? And why does that warning sign still blare across the speakers of the megaphone of your inner psyche long after you’ve acknowledged and moved past them? 

My father was not a seasoned military man like my grandfather, yet he was arguably worse. No, he didn’t curse and scream to the high heavens when the Washington Redskins lost on a Sunday night. Nor did he down an entire handle of Hendrick’s gin each night. Instead, he designed the horrors of the world instead of directing them. Developed nuclear warheads, disappearing onto a naval ship for months at a time, out in the middle of the ocean, unreachable for days. Counterterrorism negotiation: understanding the minds of the horrible people in the world because you also think that way. Analyzing the boston marathon bomb on base, categorizing the explosion, figuring out how to recreate it. His own obsession with knowledge meant he succumbed to the novelty of leisurely cruising the internet each night instead of engaging in valuable discussions with his daughters. His preference for topical debate and need to lead his own household staunched the creative impulse in his children during their adolescence–they retreated to their rooms instead of spending any quality time as a familial unit.

It must have been a difficult balance, instilling such important virtues of independence then having that same logic used against you. Realizing your children growing up with access to more education from a younger age, more stimulation, a visual and auditory overload you couldn’t even imagine, meant that they also surpassed your plan for their growth far quicker than you were able to predict. That your inability to conform to an adapting narrative meant you were being left in the dust. 

So when your daughter, struggling to come into an identity of her own with the rush of hormonal swings that is puberty, sees you mocking your own mother, the most wonderful woman in her life, for everything that makes her a “woman”, a deviation emerges. The emotional manipulation, the laughs at her tears, the “a little dirt won’t hurt” mentality that pertained to ballfield and home life, those visuals have persisted long after the pain has receded. Unable to process the events in real time, my childhood life and list of upcoming performances always bearing dangerously up ahead, I stratified all of these instances into little filing cabinets deep in the recesses of my brain. So with a combination of coronavirus, a political election, global distress, a human, and child, sex trafficking scandal, I finally have the time to actually be reminded of, and explore, these memories. It’s a rabbit hole into who “I” am that is inevitably tied to “him” at some point. It’s inescapable, and thus, frustrating.

Add in the fact that the same man was incredibly suspicious of data tracking (almost to a paranoid level), has been talking about “China” being our main threat for well over the last decade, and would disappear for weeks on end, only to reemerge holding the empty shells of missiles shot off somewhere in the ocean…shells that later become named in the deaths of others, there is no denying that he was and still remains one of the most intelligent men I have ever met.

Which is exactly why it draws logical concern that he could have been so worried because he had something to hide. 

Clue #3: One of Just Many Family Secrets

So what type of fucked up family creates an absolute unit of a child who can ALWAYS be working, honing her craft, amassing talent after talent so she can one day blend in to literally any situation she needs to? Who has teachers not even on her schedule create time for her to learn new subjects for fun? Who naturally draws others in but keeps them at an arm’s length until she decides they are no longer suspicious? 

As I said, but somehow feel is still necessary to report, my grandfather must’ve been a great, but terrifying, man in his career. The atrocities of the missions he led in every war across multiple continents, his years living in and studying warfare in Italy, his refusal to ever discuss any aspect of his past, yet his desperation in later life to “create a legacy”…despite needing to drown out the horrors of that same legacy with his gin. He was the one who did what had to be done. He could, and did, make those unspeakable decisions. And that’s exactly what they are–unspeakable.

So how far did his involvement go? 

It seems only logical my assumption for what I was intended for.

Given the visible fear my mother and her siblings had for my grandfather, his incessant need to expand his legacy and extensive search into our heritage in his later years meant he had full intentions for our own family to follow in his footsteps–for this information to be important. I have also known for years that my mother was sexually assaulted by a long-time esteemed friend of the family, reportedly. An incident that was briefly mentioned and then shuttered back into its cage. Combined with myself, one who has an incredibly brilliant memory, now struggling with most aspects of my identity, including my sexuality, and have not had any meaningful relationship with my own father due to the somewhat aforementioned extensively psychoanalyzed cyclical pattern of behavior. And on top of all this, somehow, even though my mom didn’t work and stayed at home, we just mysteriously had the funds, for literally all of my and my siblings activities, hobbies, pursuits of interest?

The family farm we grew up on was more of a complex in the years I was alive. My parents faced my uncle and whichever of his wives was living with him at the time. Behind the pond in our backyard, my aunt’s home lay submerged in woods. Immediately to our left, if we were staring out at the cobblestone private road, a few miles off the only main highway that ran through our town, the culdesac culminates in my grandparent’s house, overlooking the rolling hills and wooded acres of former tobacco farming. Between my grandparent’s and parent’s house lay the apple orchard, where helicopters did and could land anywhere relatively discreetly. Also conveniently used as part of our horse pasture or jumping field. The acres of woods that surrounded our households, the barrier of the horse pastures, the miles of forestry. 

The peaceful home that I knew and loved as my serene oasis is now, very clearly, a fortress that allowed us to pass, excel, and grow just below the radar of civilian life in the small town. Competitive enough to challenge me but not in such a way that drew attention. I realize that our grandfather planned out the location so every terrorist attack, every civilian threat on our capital could make us reachable by helicopter in minutes. We always knew we’d be okay because there were protocols in place. And we were at least on the list for priority evacuees should the worst happen…all thanks to my him. We owed him our security. 

And my biological father was OBSESSED with reminding us that our searches were being monitored. Reflecting on this now makes me realize that not only was he monitoring us himself, but he was really referencing our data being monitored. So that the things we did, as children, couldn’t be stolen by a stranger in a chatroom. So the guy jacking off in the omegle chatroom wasn’t hacking into our camera feeds and watching our underage selves through our laptop screens, only to sell it on the web and have it reemerge 30 years later and be used to blackmail us on our political campaigns. This paranoia, yet an understandable and legitimate fear, really just fed into my exhibitionist fetish 20 years later, so congrats on the anxiety. Now I’m just navigating trying to monetize it myself and come to terms with the reality that as a scientist overlapping with education, I am not allowed to publicly acknowledge my sexuality to any significant extent, lest I be burned at the stake of some online Facebook community watchgroup. 

My father’s domineering, dismissive nature of anything that didn’t go perfectly in line with his plan–even if that dismissiveness was towards his own children– has always been something I witnessed quietly. His public facade of being this incredible asset to the community, his obsessive compulsion to be publicly appreciated, that he years later validated in your own personal success…that was never enough behind the curtains. There was always more to have. 

For me, a young woman (ugh, can it just like, not be pedophilic and ageist to refer to myself as a “girl”, I am only 27 for crying out loud) who shares the obsessive curiosity of interest in her genetic background with her grandfather, I now seek insight as to what ration went into the details that shaped my life before I was aware that I could shape my own. In the interest of global news as of late, particularly the unveiling of the Ghislaine Maxwell story, it only served to make me wonder…With how interconnected these webs are, it’s fair that one whose own family fits that complexity of secrecy could be involved in similar affairs. 

It would also, just as likely explain the otherwise inexplicable and almost insurmountable level of hatred for my father, or it may very well have just been a completely honest, small town operation. Those trucks in the night were just farm deliveries. Those helicopter landings all legitimate missions.

But still…A girl can wonder.

A girl with anxiety can spiral.