Archive for sex

Black folks, gather ’round. We need to chat.

Now, before I start let me say, I love the black blogosphere. I really do. Intelligent, witty observations, sitting side by side with insightful commentary dealing with everything from world politics, feminism, religion, all the way down to local happenings. I love it.

However…

Some of ya’ll…you’ve gone off the nut this week. So let’s chat a bit, shall we?

The Obama Father’s Day speech. If it doesn’t pertain you, your father, or the fathering style of your male friends..why be upset? Yes he did it while campaigning for President. Yes it reeks of political game playing. But was it really wrong? Was anything he said actually incorrect?

Not from what I heard.

Though I will say, I hope that, after they’re elected, Michelle Obama does a Mother’s Day speech that goes after Baby Mamas the way Barack went after Baby Daddies. In all honesty, it needs to be done. It’s long over due.

Let’s stop deifying single mothers like they’re infallible. Please. I don’t mean all single mothers. As someone who has friends and relatives who are/were single mothers, I can say for certain there are many who deserve nothing short of sainthood.

However the ones I’m talking about are the Baby Mamas. The ones who make good single mothers cringe. The ones who take their child support payments and use it to get their hair and nails did. The ones whose kids spend more time with Grandma than they do with their own moms; not because she’s out working her ass off, but because she’s out shaking her ass at the club. The ones who lie to Friend of the Court and use their children as pawns to manipulate fathers who, otherwise, would be more than happy to be in their child’s life as more than just a name on a check. The ones who spend more time looking for a man to “take care of” them instead of taking care of their children.

These triflin heffas need to be put in check. Being in ownership of a uterus does not give you the right to reproduce just for the hell of it or to manipulate someone.

Forget about the father for a moment, consider the child in the middle of all this. You bring a life into this world for petty and selfish reasons, lie to it, manipulate it, expose it to a parade of temporary daddies and “uncles” but never to its birth father. Basically you treat this life like an object; like some thing with no thoughts, no feelings, no desires, no wants or needs. Just a thing for you to use, and, if you don’t get your way, use against someone. You take a blessing and twist it into a punishment. But then can’t figure why, for the life of you, men don’t want to stay around your triflin ass. Why they’ll screw you but not marry you.

Yeah, these chicks need to be chin checked. Hard.

I love my single parent sistren and brethren who take care of their kids. Seeing you juggle all those responsibilities and wear all those hats give me hope for this sad excuse we call human kind. I love single fathers who struggle to be more than just a Baby Daddy, especially in the face of a Baby Mama who does everything in her power to make it hard for him to be even that much. It’s heartbreaking to hear stories from men who want to be there for their kids but the mothers block access to them unless they play by their rules.

So I say, whoever the next First Lady will be (please God not Cindy McCain…if she can’t be trusted to not lie about a damn cookie recipe, I don’t think she can be trusted to do anything this important), she needs to do a nationwide address calling out Baby Mamas and demanding reforms in the legal system so that it stops leaning so heavily towards the mother always being the victim of some unscrupulous man’s penis.

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Kwame is in good company

Ah men. When will you ever learn? When you’re married, especially if you’re in a position of power, stop thinking with the little head and start thinking with the big one (that would be the one on your shoulders for those of you who are delusional enough to actually believe that you’re that impressive…you’re not).

So right along with Spitzer, and that pastor who drove across three states to hit a titty bar, The (dis)Honorable Mayor of Detroit finds himself with more compatriots on the “couldn’t keep it in my pants” wagon.

I opened up my RSS reader this morning to find out that Democratic Michigan Senator Debbie Stabenow’s husband got caught up in a prostitution ring. Granted, his crime wasn’t nearly as impressive as Spitzers. He laid down a measly $150 for oral sex from a 20 year old at a local Residence Inn. Once again, a man got caught up responding to a Craigslist ad offering sex.

Now…why does this sound so familiar…hmmm…

OH! That’s right! A cop was busted for hiring a prostitute over Craigslist just two months ago. Men. Learn from this. STOP CRUISING FOR SEX ON CRAIGSLIST! THEY’RE ALL COPS!

“But, NKA,” you say, “that’s not the same as sending text messages to your lover, then firing a respected police officer, killing a stripper and committing perjury to cover it up.”

And you’re right. But Kwam-ster is hardly alone in his two-way trysts. Oh no no! And it’s not just American men who are too stupid to do these sorts of things discreetly either. Nope. The Finnish suck at it too. And just like Kwame, he refuses to resign over the incident. See, idiocy is international.

The Most Disturbing Blog I’ve Ever Seen

I do a lot of blog surfing. Especially when I’m bored (which is often). And I’ve stumbled across blogs of almost every sort on almost every topic in nearly every language (thank God for Google Translator and Babel Fish). I’ve read blogs by people who are blatantly racist, sexist, homophobic, morally reprehensible, narrow minded (and not in a benign way), or just plain offensive to anyone who has any sort of morals (even the most lax). I rarely bat an eye. I’ve learned to curb my instinct to rant and rave and berate these people. Fact is they thrive off that sort of attention, so I don’t give it to them.

However, this time, I’m not disgusted. I’m not offended. I’m frightened. Not for myself, but for this blogger.

I was going through WordPress’ tag surfer when my eye fell on a blog that started “I was going to steal condoms today!” Well that was enough to stop me dead. She goes on to talk about how she didn’t get the opportunity to, what she plans to wear for her “hang-date” and how the guy she’s going out with sent her a message on Facebook. Then I looked at her login name: how to lose your virginity in 150 days.

I did a double take. That couldn’t have been what it said. But it did. I went to her blog. There was no way this was real. It couldn’t be. Could it? She was obviously young based on what she had said in the blog that I initially read. Could a young teenage girl really be scheming to lose her virginity in such a crass manner? Previous entries proved my worst fears to be real. She doesn’t have an archive up, so I had to go back through entries one at a time (each time HOPING to find some proof that this was a hoax). My heart sank when I came to her “Welcome” page:

I’m 15 years old, and most likely one of the horniest people you will ever meet. I’m on a quest to lose my virginity before I turn 16 (which is in 151 days from today), meaning I have 150 days left.

“But, NKA, it’s not really your business. This is a matter for her parents to handle.”

Well, yes, but, apparently, her parents are clueless about her plans or this blog wouldn’t have gotten to day 121 (she’s counting down). I have to wonder what sort of conversation this girl’s parents have had with her about sex and sexuality that she thinks this is the appropriate way to lose her virginity. Being homeschooled I’m guessing they gave her the abstinence talk, but not much else.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not stupid. I know teens have sex every damn day, but most don’t document their quest to lose their virginity with the desperation this girl does, and I wonder if this goal of hers is going to cause her to be reckless (we’ve already seen she’s having problems getting condoms [even though you can get them free just by searching “free condoms” on google]). Not only that, but I wonder about where she’s meeting these guys she plans to meet and try to have sex with. Not every 17 year old boy online is a 17 year old boy in real life.

This is why I’m a total advocate of invading your kid’s privacy (to an extent). So long as your modem is working, the whole world is at your door and not all of them give a half a damn about you or your family. In fact, a startling large number of them don’t.

I’m not wholly against homeschooling. I once met a five year old that was homeschooled and knew her times tables (though whether she knew them or had simply memorised them is something I’ll never know). But if you’re going to cut your kid off like that (and it is cutting them off, especially when you’re already “in the middle of nowhere” [her words]), you need to make sure you’re teaching them every last thing they’ll need to know about surviving in the world past the end of their driveway.

Reading her blog you can tell she’s naive, beyond the normal naivety that most 15 year old girls have. She is putting herself in harms way just because she wasn’t taught how to handle her hormones.

Part of me wants to keep an eye on her blog (the part of me that wants to save everyone), but part of me can’t bear to watch this girl put herself at risk.

I dunno…maybe I’ll decide tomorrow. Right now, I have to go kiss my baby girl and pray to God I don’t make whatever mistakes this girls parents made that set her on this road.

Addendum: I don’t blame her parents for what she’s doing. She’s smart enough to know what she’s doing isn’t exactly going to rank high on their list of things they approve of, this is proven by the fact that she goes through great lengths to hide her identity. Therefore she’s smart enough to understand she’s taking a huge risk. But understanding something intellectually and accepting as a truth it are two different things. I’m certain her parents did their absolute level best. That they taught her what they thought she needed to know. Sometimes though, in protecting our kids, we strip them of the weapons necessary to live in this world. And with the best of intentions, we send them into the world, declawed and toothless. Every parent screws up in some aspect of raising a kid (the fact that The Kid isn’t irreversibly traumatised is still amazing to me), it’s a daunting task and we can only do what we feel is right and best and hope to God that it really is.

If anything, her parents have my deepest sympathies. If I could possibly hunt down her parents to alert them, I most certainly would. Without a single moment’s hesitation.

Protected: After many deep and profound brain things in my head…

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Protected: This time change is killing me…and other random thoughts

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Thoughts on body image

(Warning for those who are faint of heart: the links below are from two Dom/sub blogs; if the idea of Dominant/submissive relationships offends you then I suggest you go and read another post because I’ll be referencing them throughout this entry. I am not here to promote their -or anyone else’s [not even mine]- lifestyle, but I speak on wisdom where I find it. Either read without judgment or keep it moving.)

Surfing around through wordpress I came across a blog about body image. He referenced another blog about it, so naturally I scooted over there and read what she had to say. She was on point with everything and her suggestions for helping with one’s body image issues were insightful. Of course, I had to speak on this myself.

I’ve always been an advocate for the destruction of the false beauty model as set by Hollywood and mass media. Everything I learned growing up goes counter to what Elle and Cosmo says I should look like. Guys I knew and met growing up much preferred curvy women (“Girls with some meat on their bones,” as they so eloquently put it). And growing up in a family that is largely from the south (Alabama, and Mississippi) and was dominated by women who were big, I was taught early on that “only dogs like bones, men need meat” and then had another helping of ribs, macaroni and cheese (baked, not from the box), greens and who knows what else heaped onto my plate because I was “too skinny” (I was, and for the most part still am, the thinnest woman genetically related to my family, with only one or two exceptions in my age group).

As a kid and teenager, I was afraid of being too skinny. When I hit 5th grade and saw girls my age blooming while I maintained my rail thin, tomboy figure, I got nervous that I would never “have what it takes” to net one of the cute boys in my neighborhood. Especially not when placed in competition with girls who had long since passed their training bra stage and whose hips and butts were rounding out nicely. (If you read my boob post, you already know how that story ends)

Even in college, after finally having caught up with (and in some cases surpassed) my female peers in the figure department, I was still an advocate for a curvier female population. Jessica Alba was on tv in those skin tight outfits showing off her lovely figure (which she subsequently lost after drinking the Hollywood Kool-Aide and decided to abandon any aspect that would hint of her multi-ethnicity…I’d call her a sell out, but that would be oversimplifying it). Jennifer Lopez was shaking her badunkadunk across stages all over the world to her Diddy-ised Latino-hip hop beat. Maxim came out and was profiling women with lush hips (though, not too lush). Then there was the girl-next-door homegrown good looks of Rachel Ray (I can’t stand her, but she is cute). Jazzyfatnastees. Jill Scott. Tyra Banks (I can’t stand her ass either lol). Curves were everywhere. I was delighted.

However, I was also broke. When I saw a flier in one of the campus food courts looking for young women to model nude, I decided “what the hell, why not?” I checked his site and all of his shots were tasteful. Nothing pornographic or questionable. It was artistic nudity. And I had no problem with that. So I shot him an email expressing interest (oh don’t look so shocked…at least I would have been getting paid, unlike those morons who do girls gone wild tit shots for a fucking t-shirt) and he asked me to describe myself. At the time I was 5’4″, fluctuating between 127 and 130, 36DD and a size 8 in jeans. I thought I was pretty damn thin and I looked good in shorts. He said he wanted more of an athletic body. Less curve, more of a flat stomach, etc etc. And I was willing to diet to give it to him, until I stepped back and thought to myself “Um, wait a second. There is nothing wrong with my shape or my weight. Why in the hell am I trying to lose weight that I don’t need to lose?” I admit, I could have used to some toning, but weight loss? Nah. So I flipped that idea the bird and settled for a minimum wage campus job answering phones.

I walked a lot in high school and college, so keeping weight off was never really a problem, but when I got married and moved to a new city (that I wasn’t familiar with), walking went out the window. Not long after getting married I got pregnant, and that’s when all my problems started.

My first trimester I lost 11lbs, dropping me down to my college weight of 131. The doc said this was normal and was because my body was just burning off fat stores for energy while it was preparing to carry my baby. I was fine. My sex life was fine. Everything was fine. Until I hit month five. That’s when I really started to show and my baby started moving a bit. Sex became uncomfortable and I was unhappy with my distended belly, but I tried anyway. Around 7 months I simply couldn’t bear the idea of showing my body to my husband, who insisted that I was just as beautiful pregnant as I was before. Even with all of his heartfelt assurances, I couldn’t accept that the whale I had become could be considered beautiful.

My pregnancy weight topped out at 161, which meant I had only really added 20lbs to my pre-pregnancy weight (about 140), but I was very unhappy with my appearance. Even after having my daughter and losing most of the weight I was unhappy with my stretch marks, love handles and saddle bags (all of which were a result of pregnancy). I was a stay at home mom and often too exhausted to work out. Plus there was no where for me to work out. I have a lifetime membership to Fitness USA, but the closest one is over 20 minutes away and gas prices were rising. I hated my body, and slipped into a deeper depression over it. Sex was almost totally out of the question. I felt completely undesirable (though my husband felt differently, he loved my extra curves). And though I kept up my banner waving for women with curves, I kept thinking back to my thinner high school and college figure.

I often spoke with my friends about having pride in our curves. Taking pleasure in the stretch marks that came from us bearing children. I was all but singing “I Am Woman, Hear Me Roar”. But away from all those people, my inner-voice became especially nasty.

Let me break in here real quick to explain my “inner-voice”. I have had depression since I was 12, and my depression often came in the form of a “voice” that repeated over and over about what a failure I was, how unattractive I was, that I was a disappointment to my friends and family, I was worthless, useless, hopeless. Most of the time I could tune it out (without the aid of medication), but it was a steady drum beat that never wavered from its typically self-assured tone, and when it got bad, I would believe everything it said. After I had my daughter, the messages of this voice grew nastier as my self confidence began to falter. I became not only unattractive, but unlovable. My husband was, of course, cheating on me (so my voice said), who wouldn’t? I was fat, ugly, unemployed, useless, a drain on our finances, a horrible mother…and on and on. And I believed it. No matter what my husband said to the contrary. This left him frustrated on many levels.

I knew I needed to make a change when a doctors visit revealed that I had hit 170. Years after having my daughter, I had gained 15lbs. And as I said earlier, my family is full of big women. On both my mom and my dad’s side. I accept that there is some genetic propensity towards holding our weight, especially after we have babies. However I knew I could choose how much of that weight was genetic and how much was voluntary. I also knew that the older I got, the harder it’d be for me to lose. So if I was going to take control of my weight, my life and, most importantly, my self image, now was going to be the time. I started working out (not just to lose weight but to help alleviate my depression naturally) and asked my doc for anti-depressants.

It wasn’t until after this that I began to believe my own hype about the beauty of curves again. Yes, I’m curvy, and yes I’m good looking (I’m too humble to call myself beautiful). No, my breasts aren’t sitting right on top of my chest, but you show me a 36DDD woman whose breasts are and I’ll show you some fake boobs. I still have a pooch from my pregnancy and I’m fairly convinced that’s not going to go away completely without surgery. I’m still fluctuating between the mid to high 150’s and low 160’s, but I’m ok with that too. I don’t pay attention to BMI results because I saw first hand how very wrong it is to gage one’s health (I had lost 6lbs, gained muscle tone, but my BMI went up two points saying I was at risk for obesity…that was when I flipped BMI charts the bird). My sex life is back on track and I love my husband all the more for sticking with me when I was at my absolute lowest.

I haven’t given up my fight against false beauty standards either. I refuse to watch shows like America’s Next Top Model. I don’t buy fashion magazines. I expose my daughter to women of all shapes, sizes, heights, colors and tones so she understands that we’re all beautiful. I don’t watch music videos (I don’t have cable, but when I did, I didn’t watch them). And though I can’t stand her annoying ass, I applaud Raven Simone for not drinking the Hollywood Kool-Aide and loving her body and herself, curves and all. It’s a small effort, hardly a dent in the mass media image machine, but it’s my dent, and it’s a dent I pass on to every one of my girl-friends and my daughter so they can add on to it.

Single, sexually active women in Canada screwed (in more ways than one)

http://www.rhrealitycheck.org/blog/2008/02/06/abnormal-paps-pap-smears-doctors-refusing-canada

While attending a recent event honoring the twentieth anniversary of the all-important Morgentaler decision here in Canada, I came upon some disturbing news: doctors in Canada are denying pap smears to women citing religious objections. You read it right: doctors are using their personal morality to further restrict a women’s right to equal health care. I came across this fact in an essay written by Peggy Cooke, the recent winner of Canadians for Choice’s essay submission contest that answered the question “Why is a pro-choice Canada so important?”

In her essay detailing her experience as an abortion clinic patient escort, she writes, “I have two close friends whose doctors will not even give them pap tests because it goes against the doctor’s religious beliefs.” Peggy lives in New Brunswick, one of the most repressive provinces in terms of reproductive policy. The provincial government continues to violate the Canada Health Act, by requiring women to seek approval from a doctor and a gynecologist in order to access publicly funded abortions. Abortions done at the private Morgentaler clinic are not funded.

I contacted Peggy to learn more about what was going on with the doctors refusing to perform pap smears and she responded by saying that in one case it is actually the doctor’s receptionist who won’t allow her young unmarried friend to make an appointment for a pap smear saying that she is too young and doesn’t need one (she was 19 at the time of the incident). The second instance deals with a couple who are doctors, who run a practice together. Known for their religious and anti-choice beliefs, these doctors will not prescribe contraception. The doctor who refused to perform the pap smear works in the same practice.

So when did a test that is used to screen for disease and cancer suddenly become a procedure which doctors can “object” to do? Am I naïve in thinking that pap smears are a medically necessary part of a women’s yearly physical? I wonder if the same doctors refuse men prostate exams on religious grounds, or does morality only apply to women?

To look for answers, I turned to Patricia LaRue, Executive Director at Canadians for Choice, to see what she could tell me if doctors have the right to refuse ANY procedure that they see as going against their religion. She reminded me that doctors have a “conscience clause,” allowing them to refuse prescriptions for birth control, abortion, and now pap smears. The conscience clause is put in place by the Canadian Medical Association so that physicians are not forced to act in any way that goes against their personal beliefs.

However, doctors are also bound by a Code of Ethics to “inform your patient when your personal values would influence the recommendation or practice of any medical procedure that the patient needs or wants.” In New Brunswick, the doctor shortage means that young unmarried women simply cannot find a doctor who would give them the services that they request, because there are no other doctors to choose from.

Legally, doctors who use the conscience clause are required to give a referral to a doctor that will perform the procedure that they themselves refuse to do. In real life, however, this seldom transpires. Many doctors feel a “conscientious objection” not only to the procedure but to the referral, and do not refer, claiming they can not in good conscience refer a patient for a procedure that they object to. Many women never report these doctors because they are already in a vulnerable position and fear the stigma attached to reporting doctors for refusing sexual and reproductive health procedures.

So it seems that religious objections and morality policing have moved beyond the realm of abortion and contraception, and have moved into regulating the kind of tests that women can access that may in fact save her from cancer. In Canada we pride ourselves on “universal healthcare,” but to access that health care, it seems that you must fit into your doctor’s classification of the “normal.”

————————————————————————-

You want to object to doing an integral part of your job? QUIT! Don’t put ME and MY HEALTH at risk because you want to impose YOUR morals on me. I don’t go to a doctor to save my soul anymore than I go to an Priest/Reverend/Rabbi/Imam to check my blood pressure. What I do in my bedroom and with whom ain’t nobodies damn business but MINE.

*flips these docs the bird*

(Thanks to newcherrybomb.com for the heads up, and thanks to feministing.com for dropping a note on them)

Spanking Makes You Kinky

So maybe that explains it…

Doing my morning rounds of RSS feeds, I came across this link in Mistress Matisse‘s blog.

I dunno if I agree though. I can’t say I know anyone who doesn’t have some sort of kink or “perversion”. Also they don’t really explain their definition of “sexual deviancy”. I know folks who think talking dirty during sex would qualify you as a deviant. On the other hand, I know a girl who enjoys being spit on and humiliated during sex (no I mean really humiliated, the less of an actual person she feels like during sex, the better it is for her) and everyone that knows her pretty much agrees that she fits the definition of “sexual deviant” (and these are people who are pretty out in the open with their kinks).

I grew up being spanked (pretty often too, I was a little hellion), and I admit, I have some kinks (nope not gonna list em here), but I don’t think it has anything to do with being spanked as a kid. If anything, I would connect it to the fact that I was just plain rough as a kid. I was a tomboy from the age of 6. Being the only girl in my neighborhood pretty much made sure of that for me. I fought, wrestled, rode bikes, climbed trees and did all the things that most boys did…because that’s all I had to play with. Boys. When a girl my age finally moved into my neighborhood, we played a bit, but she was too girly for my tastes. She wore skirts and kept her hair nicely done. Me, you couldn’t pay me to wear a skirt (except when forced to by the nazis in catholic school…maybe that explains my kinks…). For all that, I was never sexually promiscuous. Yes, I did the normal high school experimentation, but didn’t have actual “sex” until I was 19. Even when I started having sex I was picky about my partners. I had a monogamous relationship for over a year and a half; after that ended I had a series of partners whose numbers remain in the single digits. Then I got married.

That was it for me.

It was the same for my (older) sister. She was spanked too. She was my complete opposite. She was the “golden child” of the family. Very girly. Dated often. But wasn’t promiscuous. I think she actually had fewer partners than I did before she got married (I got married about two years before she did).

On the other hand, we’ve had friends (and family members) who weren’t spanked, but instead were sheltered. Once they got an ounce of freedom, they became the village bike.

Maybe me and my experiences are the exception and not the rule. But, then again, maybe it’s time we stopped being afraid of actually enjoying sex. Hell, even the Catholics stopped promoting the idea that sex for enjoyment (as opposed to strictly for procreative reasons) was bad. Not every position outside of missionary is deviant.

You like being spanked? Fine. You like being tied up? Go for it. You like having clamps put on your nipples and being shocked with low doses of electricity? Erm…well…if that’s your kink and you can find someone to participate with you…why not.

Folks want to tackle the problem of promiscuity and risky sexual behavior in teens, how about we start with what these little brats are watching on TV?