Sunday, February 24, 2019

Barefoot in the Dark

The levees broke today inside me.
“When you’re done with me, I see a negative space.”
James Blake. James Blake.

I started “feministripper” in February 2013, on Twitter.
Back then, the online sex work community was dramatically
smaller, and I joined it because sex work can be very isolating
due to the stigma. I wanted connection, not unlike the connections
forged backstage. And that’s exactly how it was.
I’m grateful that it’s bigger now. We are truly all we have.
A lot has happened since then, both online and in all of our lives.
I’ve been doxxed, in the press, and written for publications.
FOSTA/SESTA happened. So much has changed. So much.
My ankles are weaker now, and my knees are damaged,
but I wouldn’t trade this community or this life for anything.
Twitter took me down first. Then Instagram, but I got that back and just
got past 10,000 followers, which is surreal. Tinder came next, and if we are
being persnickety, technically PayPal and Venmo came for me first.
Working in the sex industry just trying to EXIST is trying, most of the time.
“feministripper” as a space, specifically a space to
educate on issues, destigmatize my world and THE world,
& to uplift the voices and experiences of others, means so much to me.
Radical vulnerability. Change via softness.
Thank you, to everyone who’s ever and continues to support me. Thank you
so much for seeing me. Thank you for believing in me.
I love you.

Wednesday, January 16, 2019

Magical Realism

TW: violence
Note: this is fictional

That sound. What was it? A box fan? The blades of a helicopter? She was disoriented.
The dust. The taste of the dust was in her mouth in her nose. Angrily, she inhaled and exhaled heavily. Spat on the ground. The drive had been long. There was muttering between them, The Men, indiscernible to her.
Have I slept? She thought.
Have I eaten?
Who cares, was her final thought then.

They slipped another of those dissolving pills into a bottle. Blue. It was blue. Against the neutral landscape surrounding her, all the darkness, the blue stood out, glistening in a beam of light. She collapsed. Her jean shorts were soiled, and her knees buckled. Her eyes rolled back in her head and her neck could no longer support the head. One of The Men knelt next to her, plugging her nose and opening her mouth, and emptying the contents of the bottle. She sputtered, and lost consciousness again.

Time and space was nebulous now, devoid of meaning at this point. The differentiation between captor and liberator, something that would be stark to others, was one she couldn't make anymore. These men, with their faces covered, didn't stir fear in her. She'd lost everyone. The first one to go was herself. Being in this dusty ass basement with these strangers... nothing mattered. She found solace in her numbness and indifference, because of course the lack of feeling was better than the alternative. She vowed to never feel again. She would become one of them. They already had her uniform waiting.

Give You the World if it Was Mine

I’m still coming back to myself. 
A lot of spiritual teachers will say that the deeper you go, there’s always new depths, and that’s true.
The last.... while has been nothing short of transformative.

I’m still not ready to lay it out brick by brick, because I eventually plan to write a book, but I’m getting my feet wet. Did you know an abortion attempt can fail? Did you know you have to do it again then? 
Remember when I fell in love and almost moved across the country because we “were going to get married and have kids” mere months ago? I would have been moving there in less than two months.
Me too.

A lot more has happened between then and now, but the termination is the freshest. Let’s just say 2 (two) rounds of pills in one weekend was... ummm... a lot. A hormonal Aries Moon during an Aries Moon AND Mars transit??? (To those who have no idea wtf I’m talking about let me just use one word: explosive.)
Like I said, I’m coming back to myself. And not “Feministripper,” me, ME at my core and who I am and what that looks like. Shifts. Big shifts. Gratitude, always.

I think I’m gonna fly to my favorite city next month. I need to be loved on by my people there. I need to smell its smells, feel its magic. My future home. 

I’m letting this blank canvas on my easel speak to me. I’m feeling called to do a surrealist piece centered around hydrotherapy, and maybe expand it to a series of pieces around archaic medical treatments that are now considered barbaric (and absolutely are.) 
The creative life force that’s always been in me but has been dormant for years has finally woken back up. I’m excited beyond words. It’s go time.

“Oooohh, what a life.” -Sade