How To Be A Good Friend To Survivors

*The content below may be triggering to some.

A few months back, Samantha Muckle bravely shared a story on this platform about her rape and subsequent choice not to officially report it. I began writing this immediately after reading hers. I was also raped and have chosen not to press charges. It took me a full year to tell anyone what had happened. When I did begin sharing, I only told my then boyfriend and a few close friends. This is the first time I’ve decided to discuss my story publicly, and there are still many people close to me completely unaware of what I’ve been through.

Two years later, I still don’t feel comfortable discussing the exact details of what happened one night my senior year of college in that boy’s bedroom. My discomfort stems from two things. First, there’s always a certain amount of pain that comes with reliving my trauma, and that pain still outweighs the catharsis that comes with sharing. The second reason I feel so uncomfortable only recently became clear, and it’s what led me to write this piece: I largely refrain from sharing with those close to me that I was raped because I am trying to protect them. It is their possible discomfort that silences me. This reason is almost never discussed, even in the current Me Too era, where so many aspects of rape culture are finally receiving media attention.

I am lucky enough to have close friends who support me in all aspects of my life and are vocally protest rape culture and victim blaming—so why did I feel so scared of burdening them with my own story?

I feel that this is a situation so many assault survivors find themselves in; the well recorded prophecy of isolation because no one understands what we went through, and no one understands what we went through because we’ve silenced ourselves around the people who want to understand the most.

The first person I told about my assault was the boyfriend I had a year after it happened. We were at a bar and ran into my assaulter. I began panicking. It was obvious something had triggered me, and rather than continuing to suppress it, I “word vomited” what had happened. I remember my boyfriend being dumbfounded, awkward, asking me if he should go up to him, say something, even punch him. I said no, and insisted that we leave. The next morning we woke up as if nothing had happened. We never spoke about that night again and, I felt, mutually agreed to forget I’d ever mentioned it. At the time, I was extremely hurt. I felt like I was an unfair burden and a damaged partner. It took me six months after that to tell another person. When I did begin sharing, my boyfriend’s reaction surprisingly became a repeated pattern in many of my friends: shock, discomfort, and then, tacitly agreeing to never speak about it again. This isn’t to say that all of my friends responded in this way; some of them, normally the ones who were survivors themselves, made me feel heard and comfortable sharing my experience (particularly Eileen, who also encouraged me to write this piece). But I was frustrated at how many of those closest to me were genuinely tongue-tied and incapable of having a conversation about my assault. How could those who cared for me so deeply not know how to provide me with a safe space where I could be open about my trauma and my continued difficulty in recovering from it?

It wasn’t until I read this article discussing the allegations that surfaced against Aziz Ansari in January that I began to realize the tragic normalcy of my experience. Rape culture has permeated the modern American sexual experience in such a way that well-intentioned men and women are easily capable of committing microaggressions (and flat out assault) against their partners. As a society, we are so paralyzingly uncomfortable with discussing consensual sex, let alone with beginning a conversation about rape. This lack of conscientious dialogue leads to doubting victims (are you trying to get attention by sharing this with me?), comparing victims stories (oh that isn’t that bad, what happened to this girl I know was way worse), suspicion (are you trying to make me feel guilty because I could have prevented this from happening to you?) or just standard denial (I’m gonna pretend this conversation never happened because I wouldn’t even begin to know how to help you process something like that).

Because of this, I wanted to write down some things that might be helpful to know in the devastating but far too likely situation that someone you’re close to approaches you after they’ve been assaulted. I’d like to note that these tips are not necessarily for survivors themselves, and if you are ever triggered by a situation and don’t feel that your own mental health allows for you to be a part of it, of course, take care of yourself and remove yourself from it. These are merely tips for people who wish to be allies of survivors and currently do not feel capable of doing so.

Be a conscientious listener.

For me, this is the most important advice I can offer because it dispels the notion that there’s one right thing to say when someone’s told you they’re a survivor. I was never looking for specific condolences or piece of advice from anyone that I shared my story with. Instead, I was merely looking for a sign that this was a space in which my experience could be safely shared without judgement and devaluation. Allowing someone the opportunity to feel genuinely heard requires patience and strength from the listener. Be aware that your friends might be compelled to share their experience with you at inopportune or unexpected moments. This isn’t to say you should hold yourself to a professional standard. You are not your friend’s therapist; oftentimes, all that is needed is a present and empathetic listener.

Don’t pressure for details.

Reciting details can be a very triggering experience for many survivors, and forces them to relive trauma. If your friend wishes to share exactly what happened, they most likely will. Pressuring them to do so can feel as though you’re asking for proof, and are therefore doubting them. When pressed for specifics, I always felt it similar to the classic “What were you wearing?” question that time and again is asked by law enforcement. Again, you are not an expert or your friend’s lawyer. Your job is not to gather evidence, but instead to provide them with compassion and a safe space.

Don’t downplay or compare.

There are many survivors of assault, each with different stories. One is not more valid than another. Each person is entitled to their experience, and it is harmful as a friend to rationalize away someone’s trauma by sharing with them a “worse” rape. Additionally, changing the subject to an assault that happened to someone else can be construed as an attempt to detach from or avoid the conversation. Unfortunately, because sexual assault is so widespread, I’ve found this to be a very common occurrence when I share my experience with someone. Rather than making me feel less alone by reminding me of other survivors, changing the topic to someone else’s experience can feel like my friends are capable of handling other people’s trauma and not my own. It contributes to the harmful fallacy that discussing rape is only acceptable so long as it’s in the third person and not personal.

Don’t encourage them to confront their assaulter.

In some cases, confronting their rapist could put your friend in mental, if not physical, danger. Furthermore, the likelihood of this confrontation re-traumatizing your friend is extremely high, and every survivor is entitled to process their experience in however many weeks, months, or years it takes them. While confronting one’s assaulter might be cathartic and healing for some, for many others it isn’t. As a friend, it is not your job to take charge of their situation and push them into uncomfortable situations, but instead, to merely be an empathetic listener.

Check in.

This last tip is also extremely important to me. After a friends confides in you, I suggest touching base with them the following day or week to see how they’re feeling. This isn’t to say that you need to constantly ask your friend to have a conversation with you about it. A simple, “I appreciate how much trust and strength it took for you to share that with me. I am so sorry and I am always here to talk if you need,” goes a long way. I would additionally encourage you to check in with your friend during moments when they might feel vulnerable, like after being a part of a group discussion regarding a headline about sexual assault or seeing their assaulter in public.

This list is far from comprehensive; everyone’s experience is different and there is no textbook for how to be a good friend to a survivor of sexual assault. We are just beginning a more open dialogue surrounding rape culture and the trauma that survivors have historically endured in silence.

STI Stigma

Sexually transmitted infections (STIs) are once again on the rise in the United States. According to the Center for Disease Control, in 2017…

Gonorrhea, syphilis, and chlamydia are some of the most common STIs. Each are a different kind of bacterial infection that is curable with antibiotics, yet the majority of cases go undiagnosed and untreated. Why? The answer is complicated, but stigma plays a big part.

If you’re asking yourself what STI stigma is, consider this comparison.

A) Your friend calls to tell you that they have strep throat. You can conclude a few things: they have an illness contracted from another person, it’s a bacterial infection, it’s curable with antibiotics, and if left untreated—it could result in other serious health conditions (i.e. kidney inflammation or rheumatic fever).

B) Your friend calls and tells you they have chlamydia. Very similarly, your friend has an illness contracted from another person, it’s a bacterial infection, it’s curable with antibiotics, and if left untreated—it could result in other serious health conditions (i.e. pelvic inflammatory disease or infertility).

The contexts of these situations are not worlds apart, but your reaction to each is likely different. That’s stigma.

STI stigma is often fueled by misinformation and attitudes about morality. Misinformation is rooted in both an individual’s fear of illness/death, and inaccurate information about how STIs are transmitted. Others stigmatize STIs because of their personal belief that acquisition of such infections comes from irresponsibility or immoral behavior. This mentality usually stems from negative cultural beliefs surrounding sex, and a false categorization of people who contract STIs as the dirty and slutty.

But the reality is, the majority of people will contract at least one STI within their lifetime. STIs are an infection, no dirtier than the common cold or the flu. Understanding what stigma is and how it develops can actually reduce new cases of infection. Stigma not only plays into systemic governmental and healthcare barriers, but also causes barriers on an individual level.

A study conducted in 2009 found that increased STI-related stigma was associated with a lower chance of an individual having been recently tested for STIs. Even without empirical evidence, this can be understood on an intuitive level: the more stigma attached to STIs, the more likely an individual is to refuse STI testing, refuse to report/ lie about their status to partners, and/or delay seeking care—all because they fear how they may be judged by others.

Stigma often goes hand-in-hand with denial; the more an individual demonizes an STI, the more they mentally distance themselves from it. Some people struggle to believe that they can even personally contract STIs, because in their minds, they don’t exemplify the behavior they stereotypically associate with infection—leading them to forego protection altogether.

The most dangerous part about stigma is that it perpetuates a cycle. More stigma means less measures taken to prevent and treat STIs, which creates new cases of STIs… which ultimately ends in more stigma. To end this cycle, we must work to reduce stigma. Doing this is difficult and there is no clear cut path. It’s takes an active role that requires self-realization and acceptance of the fact that stigma has likely negatively affected your own attitudes toward STIs.

But a good way to start is..

Use condoms.
Educate yourself with accurate information about STIs, and in turn, educate your partners/peers.
Get tested regularly.
If you or a peer does contract an STI, notify past and current partners.
Remember: bacteria, a parasite, or a virus gave you a STI, not a person. Don’t attempt to identify “patient zero” because such behavior demonizes individuals.
Avoid using language such as “clean.” It perpetuates negative perceptions of STI contraction.
Speak up when you hear someone stigmatizing people with STIs.

Information leads to understanding, and will increase comfortability with STIs and sex-related topics. It might sound daunting, but normalizing these topics is a direct way to reduce stigma. It won’t go away overnight, but admitting it’s there and that we all contribute to it will decrease its power.

RoleModel: Buck Angel

*RoleModel is an interview series highlighting badass individuals we look up to.

Every year a Marriott in Los Angeles is transformed into a cornucopia of vibrators, anal beads, and sex dolls. The ANME Show is one of the largest adult accessory conventions in North America, and like any top-tier sex party—you need to be invited. One particular attendee stood out with his chiseled frame and “Pervert” tattoo bursting from his tank top, he hardly looked the corporate part. But if the pornographer turned entrepreneur’s life is any indicator, conventions are not Buck Angel’s strong-suit.

Frustrated by the lack of trans men in the adult entertainment industry, he created his own production company in 2002. Five years later, he would become the first and only trans man to win Transsexual Performer of the Year at the AVN Awards. But these days, Angel is more concerned with his community’s pleasure than his own.

In 2016, he created the Buck Off, the first sex toy specifically designed for trans men who’ve begun hormone replacement therapy but have not received sex reassignment surgery. Beyond market visibility, the product empowers gender non-conforming individuals to take their pleasure into their own hands, literally. The right to orgasm is arguably the most human of all, and to see your identity reflected on the shelves of a sex shop is a privilege most of us take for granted.

The success of Buck Off has led manufacturers to ask Angel to develop entire line of female-to-male pleasure products. We had the honor of sitting down the outspoken game-changer for an exclusive interview.

Could you give just a little overview of Buck Angel Products?

I created the first transgender male sex toy called the Buck Off—it’s a male masturbator specifically geared towards trans men. I made it so that guys can start to experience orgasms and start to experience their bodies without touching their vagina because a lot of guys have dysphoria about that. [It] actually became a huge hit. After that, the company I work with gave me a whole line to produce. I produced another [product] called the Kiss X, which is an FTM [female-to-male] masturbator with a smaller hole. Then I created a packer [a crotch device that fills out pants] which is called the Fun Boy. Then I created a lube called T-Lube, specifically to [get] guys talking about their vaginas and understand that it’s important to have vaginal health. That particular product puts out in the world that there’s trans men with vaginas and we need to talk about it.

What was the impetus for these ideas?

I always wanted to create sexual wellness products—not necessarily sex toys—and the reason I call them sexual wellness [products] is because it’s more about creating a spiritual and a wellness connection with your body. I think toys help do that, but it’s not just about like, fucking. It’s about the whole experience and really learning how to connect with yourself and your body. That’s what all my products, even my cannabis products, [are] about: how we connect with our bodies and understand self-love, self-care.

Was it difficult to get people to back these products?

Nineteen years ago, I created the first trans male platform for porn [Buck Angel Entertainment]. I started my career [in] porn as the man with the pussy, and nobody wanted to talk to me, everyone thought I was a freak. Fast forward three years, I was the first trans man to win the AVN Award. So that was a big deal. I busted through this industry and they didn’t want anyone like me here. Today they fucking love me, they lift me up.

With that said, about five years ago I started going around to all these companies asking who wanted to produce my transgender male sex toy and pretty much 99.9 percent of these people said, “No, there is no market. We’re not willing to put the money up to even try.” And then I met Steve Callow from Perfect Fit Brand and I said, “Dude, give me five minutes.” I already had the spiel—I had been doing it forever—and about a couple minutes into the thing, he said, “Dude this toy doesn’t exist?” I’m like no and he literally said, “No brainer, let’s do this.” And that’s the rewriting of history. We created the very first trans male sex toy together and it was just boom.

When you first got into the porn industry, who was directing the videos?

Me! I created everything. I lived in Louisiana, I took a camera to swamps and I would jack off and I would film all my own stuff because nobody would even film with me. At the time, I was married and I would get my wife to give me blowjobs and stuff. One of my first movies was called The Adventures of Buck Naked. And then a company came to me and they signed me with a twelve picture deal. I was the very first trans man to ever get a twelve picture deal—which is huge. But that company ended up being total fucking assholes and ended up not paying me and ripping me off.

Did you take them to court?

I’m just the guy that says, “Really?” You cannot fuck with me because it actually puts me in a place to become even more successful. So I took all my [videos] from them and walked away and started Buck Angel Entertainment. [Which] was the best thing that ever happened to me. I started my own company, and from starting my own company is when I started to produce and direct and create all my own platforms and all my own movies.

Do you think it’s important for there to be porn that is directed by trans people?

One hundred percent because it comes from your own space. You know, there isn’t a lot a lot of trans men in this industry and I still encourage them. I got a lot of shit from the trans community in the beginning. They said shit like, “I can’t believe you’re saying you’re a man with a pussy. That means everyone thinks we’re men with pussies.” I mean, they took it [to be] all about themselves. They said, “You don’t represent us,” and “How come you don’t have enough people of color in there?” And I was like, “You know what? If you understood what I’m doing, you would stop saying that to me and actually pick up a camera and create your own porn.” Create your own, like stop making me the man who’s represented. I never represent, I do not represent anybody but myself.

They put you on a pedestal [as if you] are the voice for the community?

Always. They always do. I have guys in this community that hate me and think what I do is wrong or that I say things that are wrong because I’m very much of a person who will speak my mind. If you don’t like the fact that I went around talking about my vagina, go figure out your own shit—that has nothing to do with me and stop telling me how to react, how to talk, how to represent myself. I’ve never represented trans men.

So I created a whole platform called Sexing the Transman, and I created a whole series of porn which I call docuporn. And basically I interviewed trans men, all different kinds, and I talk about their bodies and then I basically have them undress and do a sex scene for me. A lot of schools in this country carry it in their libraries. I’m the first person to actually really sort of talk about trans male sexuality and bodies in such a huge space. People are curious about our bodies, and I think it’s important for people to see our bodies because once you show people, they stop asking. If you tell people, “Don’t ask us about our genitals,” they’re curious, they wanna know. That’s why I’m the guy like, “Ask me! I’ll tell you. This is what our genitals look like, big deal, now can we move on?”

Have you always been this comfortable or was it a journey?

No, of course not! I mean I hated my vagina, dude. When I was a girl I hated my vagina and then as I started to transition I hated my vagina even more. I wanted to have a penis, but I transitioned 22 years ago and they didn’t have these kinds of [medical developments], and the things they had were not cool and I didn’t like it and I didn’t want it. I’m very much of a perfectionist.

Now with that said, I don’t care if you get a penis. Go right ahead, do what you want but do not force me or other guys. There is a part of this community that says you’ll never be trans unless you get the penis surgery. Go fuck yourself! Look at me. I go everywhere in this world. My pussy is everywhere, dude. No one says a word to me. And this is what I want people—not just trans people—but everyone to see. We are all different. We have different bodies, we have different sex, we have different everything. Celebrate your difference! Don’t feel intimidated by other people because you’re different or don’t feel that you have to hide difference. Fuck that. Celebrate our differences. That’s what a community is about; it’s about independence, it’s about having individuality, it’s about having diversity and that creates a community. Why do people want us all to be the same?

Think about it, even in the gay community in that there’s so much ageism, so much body shaming… all of this shit because they want you to fit in this nice little fucking space, and that is not okay with me. We are individuals first before we are a transgender community.

A little bit about your background, where are you from originally?

Born and raised in LA and then I moved to New Orleans and I lived there for four years . Then Hurricane Katrina hit. I was married at the time and we just were devastated by it. It was so racist and it was so gross and I hated the United States… Bush… I moved to Mexico because of that and lived [there] for 10 years. Then I moved back to LA because I went through a bad divorce. She challenged my gender [to get out of paying spousal support], said I was really a woman after 10 years of marriage. It was horrifying. But I won. Which was the first case in the history of the United States court system about somebody challenging somebody else’s gender in a marriage and I won! Do you know, if I didn’t win, how fucked our community would be? It would challenge every gay marriage, it would challenge every transgender person’s identity. People don’t know the shit that I have gone through in order to create change for our community. I don’t need a pat on the back, that is not why I’m saying it. What I’m saying is I need respect.

These children out there who have no idea what their elders have done for this community and the privilege they have today need to be spoken [to], because they are coming from a place of entitlement. So when I get attacked by my own people, it’s distressing for me because I do this for you. I don’t do this just for me. All I ever ask for is just respect me.

Do you have a favorite product in your line?

Well, my Buck Off because that’s the beginning of everything. It’s gotten me into mainstream and speaking all over the world. People respect me now and that’s a big deal for me. Do you know how hard it is to go from sex work into [the] mainstream? It’s almost impossible. That sex work [history] is like gum on the bottom of my shoe, I’m just like, “C’mon already, I did that a million years ago!” I’m not a porn star anymore, I’m an innovator. I’m an entrepreneur. I’m a speaker. I’m so many other things, but because I did porn it’s like, “Oh you’ve done porn, you’re a porn star!”

Why do you think that is?

Oh, it’s so many things. First and foremost, we don’t respect porn in this country. It’s a shaming thing, as if sex was bad. So that’s really what America’s about: shaming on every level, shaming you for your body, shaming you for your choices—unless you fit into that neat little box. And that’s why this visibility, your visibility, my visibility, these kinds of websites that you do are very important and people like us need to find our space.

That’s a big part of why we do this. I write a sex column for the site because it’s all about demanding respect for every aspect of our lives, including our sexuality. Talking about everything openly and explicitly because that’s part of being radical.

It’s part of life and it’s part of un-stigmatizing. I’ve unstigmatized a man with a pussy. You don’t have to be okay with your vagina. What you do need to do is walk tall. If you walk around like [we’re ashamed of] ourselves with our sexual desires then people feed into that. People feel your fear, they feel your anxiety and then they act that way to you.

The Buck Angel products are so amazing because, a step further than visibility, you’re giving people within the trans community the ability to please themselves—which is such a human right.

Thank you. Yes, I’m a human rights activist! That’s what I am.

Have there been stories [about Buck Angel products] that people have told you?

It was important for me to give back to my community, say, “Look at my life! Look at how amazing [it is] and it’s really a lot to do with sex. I want you to have the same thing that I have.” And that is really one of the reasons why I did create [Buck Off] because I don’t wanna see my guys suffer. I’ve seen guys write me to say, “I cried, I [had] never orgasmed at 28. I couldn’t believe the feeling, you’ve changed my life.” I get tons of emails like that and, to me, that is everything. I accomplished what I wanted to accomplish.

Even with all of your success, is it still difficult to operate in these more corporate sexual wellness spaces?

I’m the shit [at ANME] and I don’t mean that like a bad thing. I created a toy that didn’t exist in a market that’s a billion dollar market. This is about innovation and when you innovate, they respect you.

My porn didn’t exist, my pleasure products didn’t exist, my lube didn’t exist, and the fact that people are giving me the opportunity is a big deal… and these are cisgender men. That’s another thing that our community needs to stop doing: bashing cisgender people. It’s horrifying to me. Without cisgender people we would not be where we are. They are our allies. I have two cisgender white men [working with me] who are my fucking allies. Without them we would not be creating these products.

How do you personally define an ally?

I personally define an ally as somebody who understands my goal, what I’m doing, who I am, with no judgement and only help and only gratitude and only good energy. That’s an ally.

Do you have any advice for some of our readers who want to be allies to the trans and queer communities?

Just be loving, have an open heart. Want to learn about us, put all your preconceived ideas of what a trans person is or what a gay person is away, because everything you’ve learned is wrong. I’m telling you right now, everything. Never ever come at us with anger. Ask questions! Not everyone wants to answer them but I’m the man. If you ever have a question, ask me.

Are there any difficult aspects that come with all your success and publicity?

Yeah, I would say the majority of the things come from my own community. It’s a very small part. I wouldn’t be here without my community and I do it for my community, but there are a group of people out there who are hateful and I’m pretty sure it’s about my success. You don’t have to agree with me, I don’t want you to agree with me if you don’t. *laughs* That’s ridiculous! But all I want for you to do is respect and understand my ultimate goal. My intentions are obviously very good.

Where do you think this collective queer habit of tearing each other down comes from?

It comes from insecurity. It comes from not working on your own shit. I don’t feel like that about anybody in our community because I work on my own shit. I take responsibility for my own actions, and my ego isn’t fucking inflated so much that I’m worried about what other people are doing—because that comes from your ego. That’s what’s happened within our community. We have inflated egos. We also have this idea that we’re better than everybody else. We have this idea that we can tell people how to be trans. Like, wow, stop! We have to learn self-love. When you learn self-love, you will not attack people, you won’t. So that’s where it’s coming from, a hurt community.

Can you talk about your self-love process with all this public pressure and your busy schedule?

I’m traveling the world and I speak and I do all kinds of stuff that I feel so blessed to be doing. With that said, I will get drained. People just take my energy. I give it freely but they take it and it’s pretty intense. So how I stay centered is I spend time by myself at home, where nobody else lives with me. I go to the gym a lot because that’s my therapy. I work on my physical self and I work on my own mental self and I really just give myself love. That can be with food, that can be with sex, marijuana… self-love isn’t one specific thing, it’s figuring out what makes you feel good and what makes you feel loved and what makes you feel like you can continue to do what you’re doing.

What does the future for Buck Angel look like?

In store for the future is really focusing on my cannabis company, because, financially, that’s going to make me enough to open a house for trans kids who are homeless. They get kicked out of the house, they have nowhere to go, so I wanna open the Buck Angel Home and that will just be fucking amazing to have.

I’m [also] a founding board member of a home called Transform, here in Los Angeles. Transform is a house for post-incarcerated transgender people, staffed by all transgender people. It will specifically focus on being trans and how we can help create a better life for you so you don’t go back into incarceration.Trans people suffer in incarceration, especially trans women of color. It’s a very big population there and they get beat the fuck up and nobody cares so we have to care.

That’s the other thing, people, we need to care about our own community! If we don’t help our own community, nobody will. You can’t just take from the cookie jar because if I go to that cookie jar and it’s empty I’m gonna be fucking pissed!

You can order Buck Angel’s products here, and keep up to date on his latest projects by following him on Instagram.

Cherry Popping

“When you have sex for the first time, you’ll feel something tear. How much it hurts depends on the person, but you’ll probably notice some blood on the sheets after.”

Health was a one-semester course during my freshman year of high school, where sex-ed was tiptoed around and rushed through within an abstinence-only curriculum. Hearing my teacher direct this message to the girls in my class left me with many fears, including the impression that sex was a displeasing and painful experience for women. Like many people, sex-ed was one of the only places I learned about sex, aside from movies and TV shows, and maybe the occasional Cosmopolitan article.

As she was describing what is commonly known as ‘cherry-popping,’ I recalled a summer day when I was 11 years old. I’d gone on a bike ride, got home, and saw a blood stain on my underwear. I told my mom, and she explained to me that I’d gotten my period. I waited and stocked up on pads and tampons so I’d be prepared for the next time—but it didn’t return the next day or month after. Assuming it was another odd quirk of puberty, I shrugged it off until I got my period a year and a half later.

What I didn’t realize at the time was that this was likely when my hymen had “broken,” and virginity loss played no role in it whatsoever.

After reflecting on my personal experience, I found countless stories similar to mine: women had ruptured their hymen after using a tampon, playing sports, and to my surprise, many said they hadn’t experienced any ‘tearing’ or pain after having sex for the first time. Despite mine and many other people’s experiences with their hymens rupturing before sexual intercourse, educational platforms still teach that the membrane is a determining factor of virginity loss.

Historically, the image of ‘blood on the sheets’ represented a woman who had saved herself for marriage. In a certain countries throughout history, if there is no blood present on the wedding night, the bride would face trial and possible execution. It was another misogynistic approach to promote monogamy among women and therefore suppress their sexuality. This legend is carried on today by a lack of education regarding female anatomy.

Women’s sexuality has been historically oppressed and understudied. Even biological aspects, like the hymen, have been misinterpreted. This misinformation has been incorporated into mainstream sexual education and rarely questioned, inhibiting women from fully understanding their anatomy.

Human sexuality cannot be understood by the presence or absence of biological features, as commonly taught in mainstream sex-ed. The hymen is a membrane that ‘breaks’ from any form of penetration, including tampons, or can simply ‘rub off’ in physical activity in the course of a woman’s life, which is not necessarily during her first sexual encounter. Some women report never even experiencing the ‘breaking’ of their hymen. Though there is anatomical evidence that supports those claims, many cultures still value the preservation of the tissue because it is viewed as a symbol of a woman’s virginity.

Some women go as far as getting a surgical procedure, known as hymenoplasty, to give the illusion of virginity because of the cultural agreement that the feature is sacred and determines a woman’s status. Some women seek out this surgery in pursuit of their partner’s respect, and others out of fear for their lives that it’d be discovered, or even falsely perceived, that they had participated in premarital sex.

The hymen has and is being used to define something that is undefinable: virginity. As long as this social construct is being measured by a physical feature, its presence or absence can be used by patriarchal biases to judge a woman’s identity based on sexual experience.

Additionally, when virginity loss is defined by a female membrane, the notion fails to include those who explore alternative methods of intercourse as well as those with different sexual orientations that don’t practice or involve penis-vagina penetration. This definition excludes the LGBTQ+ community and, by assigning a thin membrane such a high status—women’s identities are minimized.

A person’s sexuality is as individual and unique as their biological features, and there is no universal feature from which it can be determined. By educating ourselves about our sexual organs outside of heteronormative and sexist perspectives, we can fully understand our sexualities aside from these commonly fed deceptions.

Pills And Fire Trucks

*The content below may be triggering those experiencing depression and/or suicidal thoughts.

Pill bottles wrapped up in a bathrobe. I found my mother lying on the bathroom floor, incoherent and whispering goodbyes to me. My one-month-old sister was asleep in her crib, and all I could do was call 911. Minutes later, there was an ambulance and a fire truck outside my house. The way I’d see those red trucks with flashing lights and ringing sirens would forever be altered by that gloomy November day. Sometimes, I’ll be walking home and I’ll see an ambulance turn onto my street, and I’ll wonder if it’ll stop in front of my home, and I’ll see my mother on a gurney again. After all, my mother would end up attempting to commit suicide numerous times.

Those days, I thought I would lose my mother. This woman caressed my hair so gently when I was a toddler, called me “PomPom” instead of pumpkin because she wanted her own variation of the name, and never let me see how much she was struggling. I was 10-years-old when my mother gave birth to my younger sister. At the time, I couldn’t comprehend why she didn’t even want to look at my younger sister, or why she was so sad and restless. How could a mother not want to look at her child? Aren’t mothers happy when they give birth? After her first suicide attempt, the doctors told my father that my mother had postpartum depression. Postpartum depression is moderate to severe depression in a woman who has given birth, which can occur anytime from the time of birth to a year later. My mother developed postpartum depression when I was a baby as well, but having a second child only exacerbated her symptoms. For five years, my mother was in and out of an institution. For a while, it felt like I didn’t even have a mother because she was either absent or too drowsy to recognize me as a result of various treatments.

I remember going bra shopping for the first time with my best friend because my mother wasn’t there, and I felt like I couldn’t even talk to my traditional Indian father, who is irked by discussing anything remotely feminine. Living in the conservative bubble that is Indian families, mental health wasn’t discussed either. In fact, my mother was shamed by my father for having a mental illness. He said he shouldn’t have married my mother because she was “crazy.” It wasn’t until I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety years later that I found myself in the same situation.

My diagnosis was a result of my not going to school for months on end, only to fail my second semester of my sophomore year of high school. I just stopped caring about my responsibilities and myself. Kids at school started berating me for struggling with something that is common. My father started saying that I was weak, sensitive, and “just like my mother.” I was made to feel like an outcast in both social and familial settings.

I denied myself treatment for so long not only because mental illness is stigmatized in our society, but also because I knew I’d be rebuked by my father for my condition, and dehumanized by the cruel assumptions of family members. My father even resorted to medicine men from his village to purge my mother and I of the shaitans (demons) that he believed were plaguing us, not mental illness. Seeing a therapist or psychiatrist was very “American” and riddled my father with confusion because he believed that I was cured after consulting one of his medicine men. It was then I realized that I shouldn’t deny myself treatment because I feared judgment.

My anxiety and depression don’t make me any less of a person and they don’t make my mother any less either. Sometimes a parent’s judgment, or anyone’s for that matter, is not useful. Rising above my father’s problematic rhetoric meant that I had to trust myself.

Adolescent Crisis Intervention & Counseling
1-800-999-9999
Adolescent Suicide Hotline
800-621-4000

What Gets Lost In Virtual Translation

If I could go back to reference the text history with the last guy I was interested in and point out all the instances where what I was trying to say was lost in translation, I couldn’t. Why? Because it’s not there! I deleted it. I was unsure about my responses, so I didn’t want to be reminded of it. There’s no evidence that we communicated, not even a trace.

When your identity is a little grey bubble, it’s easy to be whoever you want to be. You can take seconds, minutes, hours, or even days to come up with something to say. There’s an endless amount of silence at your disposal to choose the right words. If you don’t know what something means, you can mull it over, or get second opinions from your friends. Often, a text that is sent doesn’t capture the intent of the message. It adopts a myriad of identities: your best friend, the co-author, the self you think is most appealing—an exemplary and idyllic knight in shining armor.

The longer time ticks after a text is sent, the more the anticipation builds. The anxiety of a virtual ellipsis that appears and vanishes gives me heart palpitations every time I’m texting someone I’m romantically interested in. It usually leads me to powering off my phone, manically pressing the home button every two minutes, or hurling it across the room.

Read receipts are all the more confusing. When the message I’ve sent has been seen without a reply, I often feel dejected. Did they intend for their reader to see the message as read? Was it oblivion? Did they get sidetracked? It’s interesting that I feel this way about read receipts when I myself have them turned on. Personally, I keep mine on because it holds me accountable to respond right away. Otherwise, I’ll probably never get to it out of laziness. I know some other people keep them on as an antagonistic power move or to play games.

Last weekend, I asked my friends their opinions on what I should text the guy I’ve been talking to. I’d only spent the night with this guy a few times, and didn’t want the text to sound annoying or intrusive. I realize this was overly analytical, but I was stumped on what to say. There was “Hey” plain and simple, “Heeey” with three E’s, “Hey Hey”, “Hi”, and a number of other greetings. Then, the question of whether or not I ask him a follow-up question: “How was your weekend?” The majority ruled yes, and I sent it.

Although it should be normal to text someone you’ve been intimate with, I felt like the underdog. Maybe it was my own ego combusting, but it seemed like a wearisome attempt at holding a conversation. I do this thing where I label myself as the lesser one, rather than treating myself as an equal to my partner. In my head, I’m the clingy one if I initiate conversations. Of course, I understand this is a futile train of thought.

Evidently, so much is lost in translation when you’re using a keyboard alone to communicate. I’m cringing at the frivolity of the whole thing, but I can’t help but psychoanalyze my half of the conversation. Impressing someone I’m trying to woo via text message is quite literally an art form. Matching their syntax to the intended tone of voice can be a labyrinth, especially when the situation may already be a game of cat and mouse.

I’m only using the dating dynamic as an example because it’s an experience that’s most fresh in my mind. I’ve encountered similar issues in texting with friends: sounding cold or removed because I used lowercase, excluded emojis, or was active on social media without responding to a text message.

It’s not so much what gets lost in virtual translation, but the ambiguity of voiceless communication. To me, reading the text message of someone I’m getting to know is the equivalent of decoding something foreign.

Why I Lie

*Additional collaboration with Kaylee Compton.

Being a girl and growing up in a modern yet moderately conservative Muslim household makes the chances of learning about your body, boys, sex, or relationships slim to none. So what happens when you want to explore and become sexually active while young and unmarried? You lie. You tell lots and lots of lies. Because if your parents knew you were talking to a boy, let alone being sexually active with them, your life would come to an abrupt end.

Growing up, I was never explicitly told that dating was prohibited, but I learned from my older sister’s trials and tribulations. I remember being maybe ten years old when my family gathered to talk about the boy my sister was secretly seeing. I don’t know exactly what was said or what the consequences were, but afterwards my father and sister didn’t speak for weeks. From that moment on, it was clear that allowing boys into my life, with or without my parents’ knowledge, would only ever put a strain on my relationships with them. Dating and my family were like water and oil—the two would never mix.

Now don’t get me wrong, my parents love me and have always expressed how I’m entitled to all the wonders of life. But boys and relationships are completely foreign ideas to them. They’re certainly not unaware of the existence of relationships before marriage, they just suffer from the classic case of holding onto traditions in hopes of staying connected to their lives before migrating to America. I understand my parents’ nostalgia for the familiar and traditional, but no matter how hard they try to implement Middle Eastern cultural traditions in my siblings and me, we always crave what they’ve never allowed. Throughout my childhood, I was constantly conflicted with what specifically constituted a sin. Islam teaches that drinking alcohol is a serious sin, but I’d look to my dad enjoying a glass of wine with every dinner. My mother practices Islam and prays five times a day, but I’ve never seen my father kneel in prayer. My sister was ostracized for having a boyfriend but when my brother brought home girl after girl, my parents didn’t bat an eye. I started to wonder why it was okay for my father and brother to go against Muslim traditions, but my mother and sister had to be strictly traditional to receive respect and not be looked down upon. And if it is OK for one gender to commit a sin but not the other—does sin even matter?

Going into high school, I realized that my new environment normalized everything that my parents considered to be a sin, and I found myself living in a dual world. Since I was always questioning my beliefs, I had to rely on my own moral compass as a guide through my teenage years. Although I love and respect my parents, I don’t agree with them on most of the things they consider sin. For that reason alone, it’s been so easy for me to “lie” to them about my life. Sex, for instance. I do not want to wait until I am married! Or however old you need to be to experience a damn orgasm. No, thank you. I have desires. I have needs. I want to cum and I want to cum now!

I respect my parents and their values, but at some point, I have to live my life and not theirs. So, yes—for now—I have to lie to them. I have to tell them I’m with Michelle when I’m really with Michael. I have to tell them I’m at the mall when really I’m screaming for more from my secret lover in the back of my parked car.

Maybe it’s not exactly “right” for me to lie to my parents. But I also don’t see the good in a teenager fearing for her life if ever caught hanging out with a boy. I’d love to have the luxury of being honest and talking to them about my interests, but I’ve seen how that went for my sister. I just want to experience lust in my youth to the fullest. I don’t want to rush home without a kiss goodnight because my parents might be onto me. I want late, uninterrupted nights with a boy in a hot tub. I want relationships without guilt.

There’s nothing more frustrating than someone telling you who you can love and when you’re finally allowed to love them. My parents’ control over my life feels like a complete breach of personal privacy. How are Middle Eastern Muslim girls ever supposed to learn about sex, boys, love, our bodies, etc. if we continue to treat them like taboo subjects in our culture?

I don’t like lying to my parents—but I don’t feel that bad about it.

They’re the ones responsible for building this home into one where I’m afraid to tell them the truth, where I have to discover myself and my sexuality in secret with no guidance. I hope something will change or that I’ll find the strength to confront them about all of it. But until then, I’ll continue to lie about where I am and who I’m with—how else am I supposed to get any?

New York City’s Most Famous Top

#Clout is an interview series exploring the love lives of social media influencers.

Rembrandt Duran is the sort of urban queer legend only New York City could breed; more a product of who he does than what he does. Mention of his name can occasionally elicit eye rolls, but such reactions only support his claim to fame: everyone knows someone who’s fucked the 27-year-old.

Years of Grindr groundwork paid off in 2017 when Vice dubbed him the premier queer matchmaker, revealing that he kept a detailed sexual rap sheet of the 550 men he’s “networked” with. While having your number nationally publicized is many people’s worst nightmare, Duran fully embraces his hyper-sexualized persona. In fact, he’s built an online brand around it. Over 13,000 eager subs, jealous doms, and hetero voyeurs flock to Twitter for New York’s most famous top’s hot takes—common threads include premature ejaculation, shitdick, and his “extra medium” sized member. A recent highlight read, “I’ll never get over gays picking dudes with nice muscles over dudes with nice dicks. Those pecs can’t hit your prostate.”

Fan or not, it’s hard not to appreciate Remy’s commitment to being uncouth. And between the shock factor and humor, he’ll slip in a tweet or two about getting tested. We stan a woke sex god.

It seems his haters live only online. After a little investigating—you don’t have to barhop far to find conquests of Remy’s—sources suggest the key to Duran’s appeal is really just an old school combo of looks, charm, and kindness. Nothing seedy here, folks.

You’re a well-known personality in the NYC queer scene. Eileen [Kelly] has called you a Grindr sex god, and Vice kind of said the same thing. Is it difficult to have this reputation?

Remy: I love it. It’s definitely good and bad. Mostly good because I like to be an outspoken person about that sort of thing. There’s been very few negatives, [only] it takes some people a little longer to trust that I’m not looking for just sex. But it’s never really impaired my dating. You can be a very sexual person and still be capable of intimacy and love and all of that kind of stuff.

How do you sexually identify?

I sexually identify as gay and also bisexual.

What do you mean by ‘also bisexual?’

I’m mostly homoromantic but bisexual.

Do you still hook up with women?

I don’t actively search for women. I’m definitely more gay recently. I’m not made to feel uncomfortable in straight places, so I ask myself if I had a girlfriend, how would that even work? I see myself dating men and having sex with women.

Did discovering you had a sexual interest in men coincide with your sexual awakening, or were you sleeping with women beforehand?

I was definitely sleeping with women beforehand. And nothing came of it until guys started hitting on me, and I was like, Oh, cool this is something else that’s possible. But I never saw myself romantically attracted to men until I actively chose to try. The first couple of times I went on dates with men, I really wasn’t comfortable with it. I actively chose to really pursue [dating men] and really make this something that I like and I did. I didn’t give up on it.

Now here you are, a Grindr sex god. Could you talk a little bit about what it was like to come to terms with your bisexuality in a culture that tends to invalidate that identity?

As I’m getting older it’s kind of harder to really identify with the label “bisexual.” I’m not afraid to call myself gay, even though I actively have sex with women. I live a gay life. I’m immersed in gayness, and I would feel uncomfortable being in a heterosexual relationship. So, I need to re-evaluate what bisexuality means to me, and if it’s important to label myself as that. What is bisexual life? What is bisexual culture? Does that even exist?

Have you received any pushback for identifying as bisexual from your friends or family?

Not furiously. My friends make little jokes here and there, but just for joking’s sake.

Do you prefer dating apps or meeting people in real life?

I definitely was the king of dating apps for a while, like if there was a high score on Grindr to be had, I would be like top three. And it was like that for a few years, but recently I deleted all of my dating apps. I’ve just been meeting people in person and going on my waiting list of people who I owe dick to. I’m in like dick debt, I owe a few people.

Why did you decide to delete the apps?

It had to do with a breakup. When we first broke up I was like, I can do whatever I want. But as things got more serious in the breakup, I was not interested in just sex anymore. I want to meet people the old-fashioned way and have more intimate sexual encounters instead of just sending a dick pic, the ‘pound me out and then leave’ [sort of thing]. Which usually is what my experiences with Grindr are. I never used to masturbate, so now I just masturbate.

So before now, you would just always rely on IRL encounters to relieve yourself?

Yeah, it was like every time I masturbated I regretted it. It was just over too quickly and a waste of a nut when I could have actually had sex with someone and could have been more satisfied. And now it’s just switched because now I’m like, Whew, glad that’s over. I can go back to not wanting to have sex.

Was sex something that normally distracted you in the past?

When I first came out it was definitely a distraction.

Have you ever sent a DM to someone trying to hook up with them?

Not like overtly. The context is key. I’m not just gonna be like, “What’s up, send dick pics,” to a stranger on Instagram. I’m gonna be like, “Yo what’s up, you’re mad cute.” That’s more my approach.

Has anyone sent you a DM?

All the time! I understand [that I] put out this persona of this person who has sex all the time. But again, context is key. Just because I have an open-door policy doesn’t mean you can just walk in, I still have agency over my own sexuality, my own body. It doesn’t mean I want dick pics all the time or ass pics.

You get a lot of unsolicited nudes?

Yeah, I’m never offended by it. I understand other people can be grossed out and feel like their digital space has been invaded, but for me, I’ve never been offended by someone sending them. Even if it’s not the most flattering of pictures, I’m like, Wow, this person is wild. I just find it amusing.

Have you ever felt catfished?

Oh, yeah. Once.

What happened?

Actually it was twice. Once, my Grindr glitched and it switched the chats with two different people. Another time it was like… she looked like her pictures, but it was clear that she knew her best angles. I still definitely had sex with her. She went from like a 9 to an 8, and that’s still a form of catfishing.

You post a lot of ‘top’ content, so do you primarily identify as a top?

Yeah, I identify as a total top. I’ve bottomed maybe three successful times in my life. Not to say that I could never bottom, it just hasn’t been right for me and I’ve never been in a relationship with anyone who has inspired me to bottom for them. So, until that happens, I’m definitely a total top. I joke around [online about being a top], because it’s funny. I obviously respect everyone’s labeling and sexual position. Like the whole “top” thing, I don’t really identify as a top, you know what I mean?

Only a top would say that.

*laughs* A progressive top!

How important do you think sex is in a relationship?

I think it depends on the people. I think a healthy sex life can be having sex once a week. Or a healthy sex life could be having sex three times a day. It depends on the couple. It’s all about communication and knowing your partner.

Have you ever felt the need to lie to get out of a sexual situation?

Oh, all the time. I literally wish I could take my dick off when I go out to the club and when someone’s like, “You should come home with me tonight,” I’d be like, “Oh, shit. I don’t got my dick on me right now. I left it at home, maybe some other time.” But yeah, I’ve definitely had to lie, but not with a partner.

Do you think social media makes it harder to be monogamous?

No. I don’t think so. But I would feel weird about them posting thirsty comments on someone’s hot selfie. A ‘like’ means nothing to me, but if you’re over here [commenting] on someone else’s picture—you’re buggin a little bit. Ultimately for me, that’s just social media and as long as there’s a conversation and everyone can be mature about the situation, I don’t think it should be a problem.

Have you ever had to talk to someone you’re with about how they were acting online?

I’ve never had to had that conversation with other people, but significant others have had to have that conversation with me. I don’t wild out, I just like pictures and [comment], “Cute” or “Wow, go off,” you know what I mean? I think I’m just a naturally flirty person.

You’re speaking to this sort of online romantic literacy that goes on, is this something you’ve always been cognizant of?

It’s definitely a learning process. I used to just say whatever and people were like, “Are you crazy?” And I’m like, shit, that is a thing people care about. I learned to have conversations with people before we were romantic, and keep my comments to a minimum.

This is very prevalent within the queer community. Do you have a theory on why we’re so keen on thirst traps and thirst follows?

I guess it’s just an obsession with how people look. I think social media makes that more available to people. And everyone likes attention, so the more you do it, the more attention you get, the more happy you are. It’s easy, everyone likes attention.

Can you describe the best sex of your life?

It was either with someone who I was super in love with or something really wild. Like something you only thought was possible in porn. So it’s a bit of both; I’m not like ‘intimate sex is always the best sex’ or ‘crazy wild sex is the best sex,’ it’s both for me.

What turns you on in a partner?

Sense of humor, someone who doesn’t take themselves seriously all the time, someone who is comfortable with their body where they don’t need to be perfect and pristine every time we have sex. I had a partner who had to be 100 percent sure they were good down there, and they would have to stop [to ask], “Am I good?” I had to be like, “Relax, we’re in a relationship.”

Do you have any advice for feeling insecure in the bedroom?

I have advice for dealing with insecure people; being patient and re-assuring them that it’s fine and that they don’t need to feel that way. I don’t really feel insecure in the bedroom, honestly, but it’s all about making other people feel comfortable.

Is there a sexual fantasy that you have achieved?

Yeah, lots.

Can you name a few?

Having like one bottom and seven hot guys come over, catering to one bottom. I’ve always loved doing one girl with multiple guys. One time my friend was with two girls and he asked me to come over and we swapped and switched—it was just amazing. There are a few really good ones, but those are the ones that stand out.

Do you have any other thoughts on dating in the New York City queer scene? I know you’ve tweeted that you don’t usually go on bad dates.

I’ve never been on a really bad, awful date. I’ve been on boring dates, but I’ve never had a horror story of someone being terrible and crazy. I’m just like—who are you meeting? How are you meeting these insane people, how do you not see that they’re insane already?

You’ve never walked out on a date?

No. I’ve never been like, Wow, get me out of here.

You’ve had really good luck. Who are you dating?

I know! I’ve lived here my whole life, and I’ve been dating in NYC for at least 10 years. I’ve never had a terrible date. I think dating in NYC is amazing because there are so many people here. I guess I am just really lucky, or I have really good intuition about people.

You’re very sex positive and open about your sexuality. Were you always this way?

A lot of my mom’s best friends when I was growing up were all gay, and very loud about it and they liked to make jokes. I always found sexual humor really funny. And not just saying penis and laughing but being able to talk about your sexual experiences. I just think it’s interesting to talk about.

Photo by Rembrandt Duran by Heather Hazzan. You can follow Remy on Twitter and Instagram at @remdelarem.