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I think I first noticed it when I was 11 years old.

The Sims computer game was my religion. I created families. I killed families. I made my first elementary school crush, and made him marry my Sim-self. I learned every cheat code, and got every expansion pack over the course of several years. I learned how to make couples have sex, and despite not being able to see any details apart from rustling covers and tiny fireworks, it gave me a feeling, a pressure, deep inside my stomach.

The Sims taught me a lot about adulthood, such as the importance of a smoke detector, and why you have to check your mail every day to make sure you pay your bills on time. I also learned that if you wanted to get another $10,000 for a hot tub, you’d have to make a family move in with you and then murder them. But most importantly, I learned that two women could love each other.

One day my mother found me making two female sims cuddle on the bed. She wouldn’t let me play again for two weeks. I didn’t know what to say to make her less concerned — would she have punished me if my Sims happened to be a man and woman? How could I explain to her that, just because I loved watching two women together romantically, I didn’t want that for myself?

I had always been a curious child. Being the youngest of three, I was exposed to a sort of PG-13 lifestyle. I remember watching Grease for the first time, couples making out in the back of their baby blue Chevrolet — it was exciting. I was fascinated by the idea of bodies, particularly bodies being together. I was obsessed with what little I knew about sex, and I thought that penises — whatever they were — were hilarious. I assumed I was supposed to like boys, so I did. Turns out I liked girls first, in a way I wouldn’t be able to understand for a long time.

Nick and I were Facetiming for what must have been the fifth day in a row. I was 13 years old and thought that staying up until 2AM talking on the phone to a boy was the epitome of “grown-up.” We chatted while I scrolled through my Tumblr. Out of nowhere, I stumbled upon a short blurry GIF of two women, naked… together.

I let it play out maybe five or ten times. Then I clicked on the blog, revealing an endless stream of photos and videos. Nothing was blurred — nothing was left to the imagination, yet my imagination was running wild.

Nick was still talking, his laugh brought me back to reality. I was short of breath. I had completely forgotten that I wasn’t alone. After a string of half-ass excuses, I hung up, giving myself a moment to take in what was in front of me. The light from the screen lit up my face, and the darkness, which hid the rest of my body, felt comforting.

My parents were asleep, and carried by this new feeling, I was unashamed. The wooden chair in front of the computer was big enough for two of me. It was painted bright green and sanded back on the edges by my mother. Its structure held me up while I sank into it, my head tilted as not to break eye contact with these women, who looked at each other as if nothing else in the world mattered. And to me, nothing else in the world mattered.

I practiced every night, late enough so I wouldn’t have to worry about disruption, but early enough that I had time to figure out what the fuck I was doing. What the fuck was I doing? After I had my first orgasm, the shame brought me back to reality.

I typed…

“Does watching lesbian porn make me gay?” Enter. 

 

I scrolled until I found the source that told me what I wanted to hear. I think it read something like: ‘Not necessarily, it just means penises and men aren’t something you’re attracted to.’

 

“Straight porn” Enter. Click. Exit.

 

Okay, so I’m not gay — I just don’t like penises.

In the shower, I thought, Don’t panic Caroline, it’s going to be fine. This is just going to be a secret you’re going to have to keep for the rest of your life.

Go figure.

In high school, I’d get drunk with my best friend and all I could think about was kissing her. I hoped she wanted to kiss me, too. It happened once in the back of our friend’s car while he was doing donuts in a parking lot, but she was so drunk and the cops came and made us go home — which probably overshadowed her memory the next day. We never spoke about it after that.

One afternoon, we were sitting outside when she asked me if I was interested in dating women. I was so embarrassed I spent 20 minutes tripping over my words trying to explain that, No! I was not attracted to women, but because I believe in sexual fluidity, and I wouldn’t be opposed if the situation came to be.

To this day, I’ve only ever dated men. I’ve only ever been with men. In high school, I wore push up bras and lacey underwear. I pretended I wanted to suck their dicks. I kissed them the way Cosmopolitan told me to. I couldn’t open my eyes, because if I had, then I would have laughed. Men and their sexuality was laughable to me. So rigid, so expressionless. No passion, no response — it made me feel nothing. Their fingers made me feel nothing, and their dicks were so one dimensional. I gave my body to boys because I wanted to be liked and I wanted to feel beautiful and I didn’t want to be gay, because being gay was absolutely terrifying.

I didn’t love dick for a long time. I didn’t love dick until I started to love myself, and I’m not sure whether or not that’s a coincidence. It didn’t matter though, I would still let them inside of me and I still pretended to moan. At the time, I couldn’t possibly imagine dating a woman. Men were easy to understand, and it was easy to make them like me and I had a textbook of dating vernacular already established. What language did women speak? And more importantly, how could I learn it?

I came out as bisexual to a handful of people during my freshman year of college, a year into my last relationship. It feels good to say, even though I hardly say it to anyone. 

I watch straight porn now. My experience with men has become more than just an experience I think I’m supposed to have. The dick that I engage with engages with me too. But there is always something inherent within this sex that holds me back from pure, unapologetic sexual pleasure… a feeling that my pleasure comes second to men, their comfort above mine. Although, lesbian porn will always be special to me. It showed me selfless pleasure, and it showed me selfish pleasure — it was the first pleasure that I didn’t owe to a man.

Sometimes I’m insecure. What kind of bisexual only dates men? How could you possibly be attracted to women if you’ve never had sex with one?

I find it easier to just not acknowledge my sexuality than to answer their questions.

 

Photos by Lia Madeline. 

 

I Talked To My Mom About Abortion

 

On January 22nd of 1973, a 25-year-old named Norma McCorvey was informed by the Supreme Court of the United States that her right to an abortion was protected under the Fourteenth Amendment. Norma was better known by the legal pseudonym Jane Roe, and her case, Roe v. Wade, would go on to become one of the most significant and controversial cases in Supreme Court history.

In 1973, my mom was 15 years old and living with her parents and seven older siblings in a small town in Rhode Island. She attended high school and played flute in the marching band. Forty-six years later, she and I sat down to talk about abortion.

 

Was abortion a topic that was ever discussed in your house?

Mom: It wasn’t discussed but I think, being raised in a very Catholic household, there was unspoken opposition to it. On the other hand, my parents were very socially conservative but liberal in the idea that the government should provide support for people who need it. I think as far as faith-based beliefs go, they probably came down on the anti-abortion/anti-Roe v. Wade side, but we didn’t have conversations around the dinner table about it.

 

What did you have conversations around the dinner table about?

It was a lot of noise and talking. My father would sometimes tell jokes. That was always fun. I do have a memory of something from junior high school — I must’ve been in ninth grade. This is going to kind of surprise you given my firm support of it now, but in English class and we had to do some kind of report, a persuasive essay or something about a current topic. I chose abortion and I was against it. I had all of these pictures that I’d found in a magazine and cut out and passed around the classroom and I talked about how immoral it was.

 

What made you decide to take that stance?

Like I said it wasn’t something that was discussed in our house openly, but my parents got publications like Catholic Digest and Columbia Magazine — which was a Catholic men’s magazine. So at that time it was all about Roe v. Wade.

We’d go to church every Sunday, and I’m sure it was mentioned in church, so that was it. That was the opinion. I was swimming in that pond. Everybody around me believed that [abortion was wrong]. There was a high percentage of Catholics in Woonsocket at the time. Maybe the demographic has changed, but everybody I knew was Catholic. I guess without even thinking about it, I must’ve assumed everybody felt this way. I wasn’t giving it much critical thought.

 

Do you have any memories of hearing about Roe v. Wade on the news?

It wasn’t something I was paying attention to — I mean obviously I was just a kid – but I do have a vague memory of it. And I don’t remember feeling any particular way about Roe v. Wade, specifically.

 

I learned what abortion was at age ten, and I remember being confused because I didn’t know if it was good or bad. The world is so black and white when you’re a kid, so at the time I was thinking,“Do they kill the babies? Is that what that is?” But pretty soon I realized that that wasn’t the case. Learning about fetal development was helpful for me and over the years I gained more perspective. But even to this day you rarely actually hear the word “abortion” on TV or in movies. You always hear “I took care of it” or something like that. It’s not unlike the way people talk about death. Rarely do you hear people say “so and so died” it’s always “so and so passed away” or “so and so passed on” and it’s a similar scenario with abortion. It’s never “so and so had an abortion” it’s “so and so took care of it”, “so and so got rid of it.” 

Yeah, there are lots of euphemisms for it — “terminated the pregnancy.”

 

I wonder if the use of euphemisms like that was part of what led us to have misconstrued beliefs when we were younger.

Euphemisms and misnomers like “pro-life.”

 

The use of the term “pro-life” really frustrates me because if one side is [referred to as] pro-life, that implies that the other side is anti-life. I think the use of this euphemism only makes the chasm between the two sides bigger.

And I don’t think the “pro-life” movement is any more pro-life than those of us who believe in the right to choose, in someone’s right to have agency over their own body. But I agree, it’s a way of setting those who are pro-life or anti-choice apart and give them a feeling or belief that they’re morally superior.

 

When you listen to pro-life/anti-choice politicians — people like Senator McConnell, Justice Kavanaugh, people like Trump — speak about abortion, are there things you wish they could understand?

I think their opposition is mostly disingenuous. I think most of them — because most of them are men — take that [anti-choice] stance because it puts them in a stronger position politically. It speaks to a block of voters who they think will help them continue to hold onto their power. What do I wish they understood? What it really feels like to be in that position. To be in a position where, for whatever reason, you are pregnant and not by choice — what that really feels like.

 

Have you seen public opinions of abortion change over the years? Or the way abortion is being represented in the media?

I think so. Over the years, I think a majority of adults have grown up not having to question whether or not someone who needed to make that choice could make it. Recently there’s been much more support for [someone’s right to access an abortion]. As your generation — the post-Baby Boom generations reach adulthood, there are more of those kinds of human rights. I think it’s becoming more and more [incorporated into] the fabric of our culture, and I think that’s what really scares the white Evangelical Christian conservatives — loss of [their] grip on our culture.

 

Has someone close to you ever gotten an abortion? A friend, a family member?

Actually, yes. When I was in high school a friend of mine did.

 

Was this friend also in high school?

Yes, she was a grade behind me. It was obviously not a planned pregnancy and she, like me, grew up in a very Catholic household.

I remember her telling me after the fact that she had gotten an abortion. The father wasn’t somebody she was in a relationship with, it was just another kid that we went to high school with. Luckily, she was able to make that choice, so I guess it was after 1973.

 

And was there access in your area?

It could’ve been that she had to go to Massachusetts… I don’t know any of the details. I don’t think her parents knew.

 

How did you feel when she told you? Do you remember what you said?

I remember expressing support and care for her. I remember feeling how hard it must’ve been for her to go through [with it] and just feeling good that she was able to take care of it — “take care of it”, huh — and [thinking] now her life is back to normal. Of course it wasn’t, but I didn’t know that.

 

It seems like you made a pretty big leap [then] from ninth grade when you did that report. 

I hadn’t thought about it but yeah… that’s a big change in a few years, isn’t it?

 

Do you think it’s because it became personal when it happened to a friend of yours?

Yeah, I probably didn’t give it much thought at all in between the ninth grade report I did and when a friend had to go through that. You’re right. I think knowing someone who had to make that decision made it real, and I was able to be sympathetic.

 

I know from some of our previous conversations that your school’s sex ed program was, to put it gently, lacking. Was there any talk of what to do in the case of an unwanted pregnancy?

No. That wasn’t part of the curriculum at all. There definitely were girls in my high school who were pregnant. There were quite a few pregnant students, maybe because access to birth control wasn’t as easy to get as it is now?

 

Correct me if I’m wrong, but I suppose it wasn’t all that unusual to have children around that age, because I remember once looking through your yearbook and all the seniors would write a little bit about what their plans were for after graduation, and a lot of them said they were getting married.

That’s true. I couldn’t tell you a percentage, but there was a bigger number of students who weren’t planning to go to college than were. So without that four year transition, the leap into adulthood right after high school was very real. It was still a bit of a scandal for girls, but not for boys. Can I ask you a question?

 

Of course.

You asked me earlier about the change that I’ve seen over the years. I’m wondering what your perspective is on attitudes toward the right to choose. Do you feel hopeful that it’s gonna continue on that path? Or are you fearful that there’ll be some backsliding?

 

I am fearful, largely because of the Supreme Court. I don’t think they’re going to overturn Roe v. Wade, but I do think they’re going to gut [funding towards upholding] it. The fact that they recently blocked the Louisiana abortion law [threatening to restrict] access, gives me hope — but it also makes me more nervous. It makes me feel as though they’re stalling. There’s a ticking clock now that Kavanaugh is a justice. I feel detached from it to a certain extent, because I’m not at a high risk for unwanted pregnancy, but I have a sister who could end up pregnant and not want to be pregnant, and I want her to be able to make the choice for herself. I want to know she’ll be safe.

I agree with you but I also have — this is going to sound kinda cheesy — but I really have a lot of hope for your generation. You are all, as a group, much more accepting and progressive and open than we were —  are. And you care a whole lot more and you believe.

This is getting beyond the scope of our conversation here, but you believe that climate change is real and you believe that trans people should be treated like anyone else and you believe that LGBTQ+ people should have the same right to love and be loved as hetero, cis people. I have hope that the world is going to be a more open and accepting place than it is now as you all age into leading. It’s happening already. I’m excited to have you guys fix the crappy mess that my generation has made of it all.

 

I think you’re the first Baby Boomer to ever admit that Baby Boomers fucked up the world for millennials, because I believe they did.

I don’t think I’m the only one who believes that.

 

You’re the first one I’ve ever heard admit it though, so thanks for that.

You’re welcome. And I apologize.

 

 

First two photos by Madeline Jo Pease and the third by Sofia Amburgey.

When It’s Your Fault

Cheating, lying, verbal abuse, repeat.

It’s easy to see the flaws in the way another person treats you when you are constantly feeling heartbroken. But is it as simple to see the same flaws within yourself?

Many of us can pinpoint a specific relationship where our partner treated us with disrespect and an overall lack of compassion. That’s the story of my life — at least, for the first few teenage relationships. I started dating my best friend in August of 2017. Let’s call him Ronny.

We were already incredibly close (we were best friends for years prior). Skipping the awkward “firsts” was unique for me because I was used to dating people who weren’t close friends. Ronny and I had this connection that was almost uncanny and irrefutable. We did everything with each other from driving to school to taking joint vacations — our time together was sacred to me, but I didn’t always treat it as such.

It’s hard to take responsibility, and it’s even harder to take criticism.

When he brought it to my attention that I was crossing a line with other guys, I denied it for months. I wasn’t cheating or lying per se, but I was acting towards other guys in a way that I should have only acted towards Ronny. I eventually accepted the responsibility (somewhat reluctantly at the time, if I’m being quite honest). However, months later, similar issues arose and all of them had to with my faults.

Why am I being ridiculed? Don’t attack me, the only person with whom you’ll ever have this extraordinary sort of bond! I would think these words to myself regularly, even though I slowly came to understand that the issues we were having were due to my failures as a girlfriend. Contentment in our relationship ebbed and flowed for months until college came around.

Ah, college.

Do we stay together or break up? The “mature” decision seemed to be to break up — so we did. Neither of us actually wanted that, but we thought it had to happen. The agony of leaving my best friend and boyfriend destroyed me. Not being in the same state made our communication ambiguous and challenging, we decided to “break up” (and by “break up” I mean we continued to talk as if we were together). 

Even in college, there would be certain things that I was too nervous to share with him. So what did I do? I didn’t share them. We were technically separated, but as corny as it sounds, in our hearts we couldn’t truly be. This relationship had always been a possessive one. We both wanted each other so much that we’d often step on each other’s toes about what the other was doing, who we were talking to, and so on. But why blame him? How can I blame him?

I was the reason we clashed so frequently. He would be angry or hurt from something I had done, and I wouldn’t take responsibility or even apologize for my actions. Was this an effect of my upbringing? Or my past relationships? Or my lack of awareness about how to treat someone who truly was the best of the best? It’s hard to tell what made us lash out so regularly for sometimes minor problems. I know now that most of these fights were because of my failure to recognize what I had done wrong.

I would lie to Ronny.

I lied about small things, big things — you name it. I lied to him not because I didn’t love him or because I didn’t want to be honest with him. I lied to him because I thought that the person I wanted the most might think differently of me if I told the truth. Or, maybe even worse, it would create a downward spiral of fighting off and on for days.

I was dishonest about things that other people might see as minuscule. Maybe some of those things were insignificant. Maybe other people would see that my lies weren’t intended to be menacing — I was only trying to protect my image. But, the bottom line was that no matter my reasoning, I was treating him disrespectfully, crookedly, and unlovingly.

I needed Ronny’s image of me to be pristine, but the way I went about that was immoral and unfair. He treated me like something irreplaceable, a prize that he was so lucky to have won, and I did not always reciprocate that. He wanted me and only me, and I wanted the same, but I didn’t prove that to him. I didn’t do my personal best to treat Ronny in a way that he deserved. And I wish that I had.

I wish I could go back and manipulate my actions (or lack thereof) so that he could trust me and believe me and not lose touch with me. I want so many things from and with him, but it’s too late for wishful thinking. 

So, what happens when it’s you? What happens when the only things you know of love are cheating and abuse and then you find yourself doing those exact things? It’s hard to acknowledge and accept that you treated someone in a way that, in previous relationships, ripped you to shreds from the inside out. Profuse apologies and broken promises never truly resolve these types of conflicts — dropping everything for that person usually doesn’t, either. And then, it’s over. “Ronny” gets too fed up with your bullshit and it’s done.

I wish that I had known then the solution for what to do when it is your fault. It’s tough to navigate the next steps to prove that, despite your bad behavior, you still love your partner.

Whether it’s been your fault before, you’ve never had a romantic partner, or it’s never been your fault — take a deep breath. Take a look at the situation at hand from both perspectives before resulting to denial or anger. Appreciate the good in the other person — ask yourself why you’ve done what you’ve done to them. Do you love them still? Are you losing interest? Is this a truly worthwhile relationship? If not, be honest about your emotions.

If none of those things are true, then change.

Don’t change your makeup or your outfit or every little aspect of your personality. Take criticism when they’re due and change. Change the things about yourself that make it so hard for you to maintain a healthy relationship. Change for the better — I wish I would have done that.

 

 

Photos (in order of appearance) by Jess Farran, Noelle Lucchesi, and Sam Avelar. 

 

 

Destigmatizing Polyamory with Stevie Boebi

Stevie Boebi is a queer Youtube personality who gained popularity through her candidness regarding sex, identity, and sexuality. Recently, Stevie has come out as polyamorous, which is a term that typically raises eyebrows. It’s often conflated with polygamy — the practice of having more than one husband or wife — and is usually accompanied by assumptions of religious oppression, etc. This jaded take couldn’t be further from the truth.

In order to debunk some myths and stereotypes surrounding polyamory, Stevie agreed to sit for an interview to shed some light on her lifestyle and identity. The following is an edited transcript of our conversation.

 

I’m just gonna jump right into it. How did you even know you were poly?

Stevie: Even though most of my relationships since I was like nineteen have not been monogamous, I didn’t personally identify as poly until about a year ago. It’s not necessarily that you are in multiple relationships at one time. It just means you have the capacity to love more than one person at a time. And [after reading more about polyamory] I knew for sure that I had/have that capacity.

Now the fact that I’m poly doesn’t necessarily mean that I don’t want an exclusive relationship or that [my partnerships] need to look one certain way. I think relationship dynamics are so diverse, just like anything else.

I started identifying as polyamorous about a year ago because —  the reason I do anything — I was mad. *laughs* I broke up with an ex because I had a crush on someone else and thought that meant that I wasn’t in love with her anymore. [And I hadn’t actually fallen out of love with her] so it can ruin people’s lives to have that damaging view that to have a crush on someone else inherently means that you don’t love your [current] partner — because it’s just not true.

 

A year is really recent, there’s a lot to discover in that time frame. Have you figured out a way to navigate having multiple partners?

I [previously] identified as “monogamish.” I’m attracted to the skills and the values and the outlook that polyamorous people have. So I tend to date polyamorous people that have or desire multiple relationships. For me, it was more like my polyamory inspired me to learn how to talk about [these desires] and how to teach people. That’s kind of the awakening that I’ve had this year.

 

People who identify as poly can have as many partners as they want, have you thought about how many people would be too much for you? 

So [for] having too many partners the term is poly-saturated. Sometimes polyamorous people have to be like, ‘I’m at my full level of partners. I don’t have emotional energy for this shit.’ But I don’t really notice most polyamorous people having a shit ton of partners. It’s usually like one to three partners, as far as [poly] people I know. Whatever works for you and whatever makes you happy.

There are also people called solo poly, who don’t want a companion partner. Some people also call this primary partners — people you would have a house with, or someone you would get married to or have dogs or babies or whatever with — solo poly people want to live on their own have their own house. They want partners but they don’t want a companionship type of relationship. Most solo poly people that I’ve talked to or heard from tend to have a little more partners number-wise than poly people that want companion partners.

 

How do you feel about current poly representation?

I feel bad about it. *laughs* But at the same time all of my identities are underrepresented. So it’s like, yeah would I love to see a queer poly love story, but it’s more important to have queer people of color represented, and it’s more important to have people that are obviously disabled being represented in love stories, too.

I [shouldn’t] say one is more important than the other, but I just think there is a lot of bad representation and inaccurate and unhealthy portrayals of polyamory, so I would love to see that combated. But you know… there is a lot of unhealthy shit in every love story because it creates drama.

 

Yeah, the only poly anything I’ve ever seen is that show on HBO — or was it Showtime…? 

Was it the one that was like “Look at these weirdos who have children with multiple partners” — is that what it was?

 

I don’t remember the name of it [editor’s note: it was Polyamory on Showtime]. But I just remember watching it and thinking to myself, this is all about sex… you aren’t telling us anything revolutionary or truthful about polyamory.

So I think teaching the difference between swingers and polyamorous people is really important, because most polyamorous people do not go to swinger parties. I mean, maybe they do. But those two communities are different from each other. Polyamory is about love. It’s not about sex. 

 

The question of jealousy comes up when you’re talking about polyamory. How do you navigate jealousy whether it’s coming from a partner or vice versa?

If jealousy affects you, it affects you — it doesn’t matter if you’re dating a poly person or a monogamous person. Jealously is something that, if you struggle with it, you’re going to struggle with it. It’s an emotion that belongs to you and not necessarily your partner. Polyamory isn’t about settling for being neglected [or] getting everything you want out of a partner. If you have three partners and [each of them is] not getting what they want from you — that’s not successful polyamory, you know what I mean?

But your partner can’t help you with your jealousy, that’s something that has to come from within you.

 

That’s a journey you have to take regardless of if you’re in a monogamous or poly relationship. Do you think monogamy is innate or do you think it’s socialized?

That is a huge question and I’m not an expert. I have no idea. But the way that we view monogamy now is a relatively new idea outside of religious circles so it’s like, is it [innate]?

But I know people who have told me how they feel about love, and when they are in love they are completely blind to anyone else. They can’t have crushes on anyone. I know couples where one of them is poly and the other is monogamous and so [while] it would be completely fine for them to have other partners, they are just like, “I’m literally not interested. I’m physically and mentally emotionally incapable of this thing and I’m completely fine with it.”

So yeah, I think that if you’re monogamous, you’re monogamous. And if you’re not, you’re not. Neither of those parties should ever feel guilty for having the capacity to love more than one person or having only the capacity to love one person.

 

[Earlier in the interview, Stevie referred to herself as being disabled] I just want to give you the floor to inform and share with us what you’ve been going through.

So I have a genetic condition called Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome and it is genetic. I was born with it, and it just means that my DNA doesn’t know how to make collagen right. It has the wrong recipe to make collagen and collagen affects everything in my whole body. There are unofficially twenty types of EDS, I have type 3 which is also called hyper-mobility type. So people with EDS have such varying symptoms and conditions, nobody really looks exactly the same as far as what they’re symptoms are.

This just means that I’m hyper-flexible and it hurts *laughs* and parts of my body just don’t wanna work a lot of the time.

 

So a lot of joint issues right?

Yeah, all of your tendons and ligaments have collagen in them, so I can be like a contortionist if I want to.

 

Is this like when you would see kids in school and they would be double-jointed? 

There’s something called HSD [hyper-mobile spectrum disorder] and then there’s EDS, which is genetic. To be diagnosed with either one of those, you have to meet a bunch of different diagnostic criteria, and being hyper-mobile isn’t the only criteria. You basically do all of these weird contortionist things with your body, and for each one that you can do, you get a point. So kids that can twist their elbow around, you know, they might only have a certain amount of points out of nine — I have all nine.

 

That’s intense.

My type of EDS is the only one that doesn’t have a genetic marker yet. They just updated the diagnostic criteria, and they are hoping to study everybody’s DNA that actually fits the new criteria. It’s considered a rare disorder, so I have to teach my doctors that even though I may look fine — I’m not.

 

How did you come to the conclusion you has Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome? 

For most people that have EDS, it takes something bad happening to even know that they have it. People with EDS have a wild range of different things that can happen. Some people have heart problems, some people have digestive problems, some people just start fainting all of the time — that was me.

I just got diagnosed in October, but I think what happened was my adrenal glands got really fatigued and just like gave up because my body was just going on adrenaline. I was sleeping twenty hours a day, I lost 40 pounds and I would pass out anytime I would stand up. I was really ill and doctors kept telling me I was depressed and to go home because I didn’t have insurance. I couldn’t work, I was like living in poverty. [Doctors] would be like “Oh, it’s her again, send her home” type of thing.

It would get worse and then it would get better, and then it would get worse and I was like, what the hell is this? It’s been about 8 years since first getting really sick. Now, thankfully, I know what it is and the more I learn about it, the more it explains everything.

Obviously it’s not like, “Yay, I have a disability!” but now it has a name. It feels so good to be like that’s my blood vessels not constricting, you know? Just having a reason for why things happen — that calms me. I think a lot of people are sick and misdiagnosed with things like fibromyalgia, even people that have ME [myalgic encephalomyelitis] or chronic fatigue syndrome — they’re misdiagnosed with all kinds of shit . Particularly women of color or people that have any kind of mental illness. They just aren’t taken seriously by doctors and it’s fucked up. I’m real angry about it.

 

How would you say your disability has affected your sex life?

Obviously, in a lot of ways because it affects literally every single thing that I do. My disability is degenerative, so it will get worse over time and my pain will get worse over time. I have developed coping mechanisms to help me deal with that, and I’m still trying to diagnose and figure out what’s going on.

I thought I had anxiety for a real long time, but I don’t really. I have something called Postural Orthostatic Tachycardia Syndrome [PoTS, a blood volume condition that causes lightheadedness, fainting, and rapid heartbeat when one stands after sitting or laying down]. I was getting too anxious during sexual encounters and I was like, “It’s because I have anxiety” when really it’s because I’ve been standing up for too long. Like sit the fuck down, be a bottom — you are fine.

 

Back to polyamory. What would you say to young poly people who are questioning [themselves] or are curious?

The biggest thing that blew my mind, and blows everyone else mind when I tell them, is that being polyamorous is not that you are demanding to have multiple partners — it’s that you have the capacity to love more than one person. No one deserves to be made to feel bad about how they feel.

 

 

To learn more about polyamory, you can visit here. To learn more about Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, click here or talk to a medical professional.

You can follow Stevie Boebi on Youtube and Instagram.

 

Photos (in order of appearance) by Sarah Snow, Jairo Granados, and Kate Phillips. 

 

 

CamWoman 101

This article originally appeared in Pull Out, a print magazine exploring the relationship between sex and technology. 

 

Camming is like stripping, but you don’t have to make eye contact. You’re still physical, but you only touch yourself. You’re aware people are watching you, but all you see is a reversed-moving-image-selfie. Senses are stimulated yet the entire experience is lacking flesh. It’s stripping — but cheating.  

When I began to consume pornography as a pre-teen, the content was based on what was easily accessible and available. First, it was a Playboy magazine, followed by a VHS tape, but then the Internet happened. Garden-variety adult sites like YouPorn and XVideos mainly featured videos of heterosexual couples, wherein an aggressive man dominates a submissive woman.

As sex digitizes in various ways, Cam Porn has offered a platform to those who seek to challenge the conditions of patriarchal pornography. Camming permits self-identifying women the autonomy and control over production, set design, casting, where content becomes available, and how they market it.  

I masturbate, I twerk, and I sit on homemade hand-frosted cakes as a paid performer. I’m an independent contractor, and I’m able to stream at any time. I operate under an ever-mutating pseudonym on one of the most well known live-streaming sites. Premium members tip webcam models with tokens. They click to initiate the heavy twinkle sound of change dropping in another dimension, highlighting the screen #FFFF00. What models do in their chat rooms is up to them. Members pay for a model’s time either in pay-per-minute private shows or by chipping in with tips during a public chat.  

My cam set is my studio is my bedroom. The equipment I need to work has been collected over the years: webcam and studio lights sent to me anonymously from my Amazon Wishlist, a 27-inch iMac from my father, many folding mattresses that are both a bed and a stage for clients like ollie_2113. The money I make camming buys me high-speed internet service, the cake mix from Pioneer Supermarket, and also inflatable Donkey Hoppers from the bodega on Broadway in Bushwick for my signature Donkey Twerks (basically I hump rubber toys). Additionally, my camming money buys the watercolors I use to paint portraits of the men I C2C (communicate cam to cam) with, the fabric I use to print screenshots of women on, and the rent for the apartment that I stream from. Both the job and the capital, make the artwork.  

Offering off-site content like Snapchat videos, picture sets, and Skype are crucial to maximize income and build a consistent fan base. The work of a CamWoman is dominated by filtering out spam in an attempt to connect with like-minded people. I view the regulars who frequent my chatroom as patrons, individuals who are purchasing availability and friendship. Camming is all about building a community, which takes constant emotional, mental, and physical effort. I’ve thought about quitting if I could find another job that feeds my art career the way camming does, but that would mean abandoning a community that I’ve spent years building: members have become sugar daddies, and also  — friends. 

A man on a Tinder date once told me, “A woman with her own sexual agenda is intimidating.” Both my date’s discomfort with my sexual empowerment and the broader stigma attached to pornography come from the confused sexual shame our “moralistic” society places on women. I don’t subscribe to that shame. A woman making decisions that have to do with her sexuality shouldn’t be seen as anything but smart. 

Women are told that porn isn’t made for us. We are presumed perverse for watching it, being in it or exhibiting our sexuality. Our society’s stance on sex is harmful because it’s uneducated, catering to archaic patriarchal values which gender sex and porn as something for ‘boys only.’ As a pornographer, I can confirm that women willingly participate in porn.

We appreciate it, and we capitalize on it. If we are performing, if we are the “stars,” how is porn not also ours? 

 

 

All photos provided by Lindsay Dye, who you can follow on Instagram here. 

Behind The Comment

The internet has 4.2 billion users, and 3.03 billion of them are on social media. On average, each individual has around 5 social media accounts, which could be made up of Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Twitter, Tumblr or YouTube. The average time spent per day on social media is nearly two hours. So… why is social media so popular exactly?

Is it how it connects people from around the world? The memes? To watch cute animal videos? An escape from reality? Is it the idea that people can create and design their own persona and only show what they think others want to see? Or is it just simply fun? 

I was 10 years old when I first joined Facebook, I was 11 when I joined Instagram, and 13 when I joined Snapchat. For as long as I can remember, a large portion of my life has been shared and spent on different platforms. I have grown up with social media, I have seen the different ways that people use it, and I have changed the way that I use it over the years.

In the beginning, I found it to be innocent and fun, having group chats with twenty other classmates and creating One Direction memes and fan pages. However, throughout the course of my teens, all that has changed. Today, instead of a friend list consisting of six family members, my Facebook friend list comes in over one thousand, some of them I don’t even properly know: possibly people I have met in nightclub bathrooms or a party or split an Uber home with.

Social media is truly amazing, but I do believe there is a harmful and malicious side to it. Today, most young people and teenagers have either a Facebook page or Instagram. If you’re getting bullied at school, home isn’t necessarily a place you can be left alone anymore; apps with private messenger like Instagram, Facebook and Snapchat allow people to be tormented wherever they are. There are even websites and apps in which people can send completely anonymous messages.

Ask.fm was very popular when I was around 14: you had a profile and people could send you questions either anonymously or not. Some questions were light-hearted, “Who do you want to know better?” but then questions like “Prettiest girls in your year?” and “Who are your closest friends?” would appear. Imagine going on to your best friend’s profile and seeing that you were not listed as one of the prettiest girls on your year? I distinctly remember receiving a question asking who I thought were the prettiest girls in the grade above me, I listed five girls who I barely knew, but who I idolized and wanted to like me.

After I had answered, I got another question which said “Don’t be stupid, ____ and ____’s group don’t even know you exist.”

Most of the negative comments that I saw on other people’s accounts were about their physique, weight and appearance, I can’t even imagine how these types of comments could affect some people. According to the Canadian Association of Mental Health, students in grades 7-12 who spent over two hours per day on social media reported higher depression and anxiety levels and in the last year, 43% of teenagers have been victims of cyberbullying. Nearly 20% of victims said that they had been targeted from a fake account. This is why I believe that websites that allow people to send messages anonymously are the most detrimental form of social media.

Would these statistics be similar if these activities were not online? Perhaps people feel more bold when they aren’t face to face: if you said something offensive IRL, there are likely to be harsher consequences than if you are sitting at home behind a computer screen.

Adolescence is often marked by insecurity that comes from trying to figure out who you, and I believe that social media can unnaturally persuade the user into trying to be like someone else. These tendencies are only heightened by the advent of online interactions. In some ways, I am an amalgamation of every girl I have ever thought was cool. I had a whole folder of photos on my phone of people I wanted to look like, or bodies that I wished I had — I feel the pressure at nearly 20-years-old,  I can’t imagine the amplified effect for even younger individuals.

Nowadays, many people share almost everything they do on social media, thanks to the story feature that most apps possess. According to best-selling author Steven Furtick, “We struggle with insecurity because we compare our behind-the-scenes with everyone else’s highlight reel.” I have been in situations where I am sitting at home mindlessly scrolling through people’s stories and I see all my friends doing something without me. This will cause major insecurity, I think, am I not fun to hang out with? Have I done something? If they actually liked me, they would’ve invited me.

In my experience, social media has created much unnecessary stress and anxiety. Likes and followers are a social currency, just like money, that we use to assign value to something. We are the product, but in the same vein, we are the ones letting other people assign value to us. While I’ve learned to develop a thick skin, 12-year-olds are using these apps; sensitive and impressionable young people are being exposed to these types of behaviors — good and bad. What is this going to teach them?

Time will tell.

Although, it’s not social media’s fault that these issues are prevalent. Of course the technology enables it, but you wouldn’t blame a Sony television for a bad television show. It is the people who use these platforms who could use education and coping strategies. It starts with admitting that social media can hurt as much as it can help.

 

Photos by Kate Phillips. 

 

Deja Foxx Is The Future

RoleModel is an interview series highlighting badass individuals. 

 

While most high school students are busy trying to pass their classes and have fun, Deja Foxx was taking on Republican senators.

The activist and organizer was only 16 years old when Trump signed legislation to cut funding to Planned Parenthood and similar health service providers in 2017. Foxx, a longtime proponent of women’s reproductive rights, made headlines when she confronted her state senator at a town hall meeting.

“I’m a young woman; you’re a middle-aged man. I’m a person of color, and you’re white. I come from a background of poverty,” she began, addressing Arizona senator Jeff Flake, “I’m wondering, as a Planned Parenthood patient and someone who relies on Title X, who you are clearly not, why is it your right to take away my right to choose Planned Parenthood and to choose no co-pay birth control, to access that?”

It was badass.

Today, the 18-year-old student is more determined than ever. Currently studying at Columbia University in New York City, Foxx utilizes every spare moment organizing for a variety of social causes. I had the opportunity to talk with her about sexual health, politics, and her bright, bright future.

The following is an edited transcript of our discussion.

 

 

Can you tell us a little bit about your upbringing and where you’re from?

Foxx: I was raised by a single mother in Tucson, Arizona. Me and my mom, all throughout my life, really struggled to make ends meet. By the time I was eleven, domestic abuse entered our household. Things had gotten so bad that I moved out — I bounced around, stayed with friends, and ultimately ended up sort of landing with my boyfriend at the time and his family. And they are a really amazing family. Monolingual Spanish speakers and Mexican immigrants, and that experience — moving out of my house, across town, living with a family that’s completely different than the one that I kind of grew up with — really helped me see the world in a different way and understand community.

So I ended up living with them, for about three years, and then my senior year I applied to college, got into Columbia University, and I’m now the first person in my family to attend college.

 

That’s phenomenal. Congratulations, really.

Thank you.

 

How old were you when you said you moved in with your boyfriend’s family?

I was about 15.

 

So this was all going down in like middle — or I guess early high school?

Sophomore year [of high school], yeah.

 

Obviously you did amazing in school, you’re going to one of the best universities in the country. But did you ever feel like your home life was affecting your ability to perform in school?

Oh, absolutely. Now that I’m at Columbia, I have a dorm and a meal plan, and the past semester I got two A minuses and three As, which ended up at a 3.8 [GPA] — those are the best grades I’ve ever gotten. I mean, usually when people get to college in their first semester, they kinda get shocked with like a Oh, I used to be perfect in high school and now what’s happening? But for me, it was the other way around.

Now that I have this stability that I’ve never been afforded, my grades were better than ever. And I can say that in sophomore year [of high school] my grades were the worst that they ever were. But more than that, I think that where I really began to struggle in sophomore year was socially.

I was struggling so much at home, and because the type of school I went tended to be wealthier, middle class white students: two parents at home kinda thing, and I felt like no one knew what I was going through. And none of my teachers were people of color — not a single one throughout high school. So I looked around and felt like no one knew what I was going through and no one understood. And that just reflected poorly onto my social life, and that was really tough.

I was in student council my freshman year, and my sophomore year I didn’t get re-elected. It was because I was tired of pretending like I was white, like I was rich. I’d just moved out of my moms house and it was just getting to be too much. So because I couldn’t pretend and couldn’t fit in anymore, I didn’t win that election. I felt so unappreciated, but after kinda not making it back into student council, I was forced to reevaluate what leadership could mean to me, and that’s when I got involved with Planned Parenthood and sex ed. So it ended up working out just fine.

 

What was your inspiration for getting involved with sex ed?

For me, it was really that moment where I was sitting in a health class, and my white male professor was breezing through this PowerPoint on contraception, because “You guys go to [name of school], so you already know this stuff.” And what he meant was that, because our school was selective and [made up of] primarily wealthier, white students with parents at home, that everyone in this class should already know these things. Their parents should have already taken the time to teach it to them, and if they haven’t — they will.

I sat there thinking like, That’s not me and no one knows it, no one’s gonna go out of their way to help me. I realized in that moment that, because sex education in Arizona lacked regulation — it varied literally from district to district, school to school, classroom to classroom — that students like me were the ones falling through the cracks. It was students that didn’t have parents at home, students who were first generation Americans whose parents didn’t have the knowledge, who were too busy working to teach them.

I took that moment and instead of just getting angry about it, I got active. I started organizing my peers. We went to school board meetings every Tuesday, and we’d get up during community call and tell our stories, about how sex ed was disadvantaging us in our school district. And after six months, we won that campaign. So for the next two years, I sat on a board, helping write new curriculum for my school district that was not as awful as the one we had before. Yeah, so that was kind of where I got my start.

 

I think that’s really brave of you. It’s so obvious that our healthcare system, especially sexual health care, is broken and disproportionately puts low income, people of color at a disadvantage. What are some steps you think our country needs to make change the system?

For me the future of sex education is peer education. Back home [during] my senior year, I helped start a group called the El Rio Reproductive Health Access Project (RHAP). What is amazing about this group is that it hires young people ages 14-20 that represent the people we serve. So these are teen moms, these are people of color, first generation Americans, homeless people like me, and we train them to be peer sex educators, and we train them to be community organizers. And every week in my hometown, they still host free teen clinics at our community health centers.

At these free teen clinics, young people come in — we even send them Ubers and Lyfts to make sure they can get there — we feed them and once they are there, they can access any method of birth control and STI testing [at no cost to them].

So this past year, the El Rio Reproductive health access project helped around 1600 young people in my community, who otherwise wouldn’t have relieved reproductive health care. I think it’s over 250 of those young people received long acting reversible methods, so will be good for the next few years. And on top of that we’ve trained, I think it’s around 15 young people, we’ve provided these leadership opportunities to young people who are traditionally excluded from leadership, who are excluded from these positions where there entrusted with the responsibility of being a leader, because people think that they can’t be. So we’ve been able to train, hire and pay, create these leadership avenues for 15 young people who otherwise wouldn’t have been exposed to that.

 

I think that’s amazing. That’s the way you fix the system, start with the foundation! 

And what I think is really interesting is there’s no one size fits all solution, because I think that, with sex education, it really matters the community you’re in. Like community driven solutions, I think are the most effective. I feel like if we could just involve community members in finding solutions [to issues regarding sexual health care], everyone would be doing a whole lot better.

 

I agree with that. Because, for example, if you’re in a specific religious community, that’s going to come with very specific barriers for talking about sex ed or getting the right information.

Yeah, my community is a heavily, heavily immigrant community, and so it’s really important for us to respect and make culturally relevant curriculum. Also when we’re looking at barriers to access; understanding that some of those barriers do come from family, and addressing that in a way that’s authentic.

 

I remember the first time when we met, you told me that you were attending Columbia, and then we started talking about higher education and [how it can be] very elitist and inaccessible. What do you think are some steps we can take to combat that and to make it a more even playing field?

When I look back at the work I’ve done around reproductive justice, so much of it is actually tied to my own journey, trying to make it to higher education. Whether it be sex education — same with disadvantaging me and someone who doesn’t have parents at home — or whether it be birth control access [as] someone that had to live with her boyfriend at the time, all of that tied into my larger goal of wanting to attend a university.

So I think in terms of reproductive justice, it’s inextricably tied to social mobility and educational opportunity. Whether through sex education or birth control access, both of those are components to how we make sure that [someone with] the most diverse set of experiences has the opportunity to realize their potential. So much potential is lost through poverty and it’s so incredibly unfair. I’ve realized through coming to the Ivy league’s, that rich people are not just inherently smarter or more creative or more talented, it’s just that they’ve had the tools to realize that.

 

What’s your dream job?

My dream job is president. It’s taken a lot for me to be able to say that, to get to place where I’m not nervous. So yeah, long term I want to be President of the United States, I want to be someone who shakes things up, who is representative of an experience that’s never held office. I want to bring communities and pieces of experiences along with me that have just never had space there.

 

I mean, you have my vote. I always think about, when I’m thinking about politics [and] today’s lack of privacy with the internet — just everything you put out there is accessible.

Oh girl, I think about that every day.

 

 

I’m wondering if you have any tips for younger people who haven’t even thought about [privacy online]?

Yeah. I think about this literally everyday. And it’s actually really scary because… so after graduation, I plan to go back home and run for office, back to the community that invested in me. But, because I plan to run so young — and on top of that, our generation is the first generation to have their entire life documented —I’ll be one of the very first people to have to deal with the repercussions of [social media] in a political sense. And ya know, [people] watch the Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez video where she was dancing — it was very benign — and people wanted to attack her for it. That’s just one example of the beginnings of this phenomena that we’re going to experience in the next ten to twenty years. Where our politicians will be held to a different standard of accountability because they will be accountable for the things they have done their entire lives.

So I got really lucky. When I was 15 and I was fighting for comprehensive sex education, someone wrote a really nasty article about me, and it was titled “Deja Foxx is a Planned Parenthood Nazi.” I was really young, and I read the article and linked were photos from my Twitter. These were older photos, photos of me and a friend out at a party, you know, red solo cup in hand — nothing crazy. But the article was like, What do you think Deja Foxx is doing here? She thinks she’s a community leader, but look what she does on the weekends. 

And in that moment I realized I was held to a different standard of accountability as someone who wanted to be a leader in my community. So I went through and fixed everything, which was then beautiful because when I went viral, I already had this clean slate, acting online accordingly.

 

Do you feel like you have to be very careful about what you’re putting out on your Instagram? 

Yeah, I walk a thin line, between trying not to cave into respectability politics and being like, Fuck that. I can actually be a well-rounded college student and also be a gorgeous young woman, all while still being smart, all while still being representative of my community and a leader and someone who is passionate about issues and involved.

But also [with that], trying to remember that because I am a woman of color, I can’t get away with the things that white men get away with. It just is not the reality right now. Logistically, if I want to be in office in 5 years or 6 years from now, I do have to behave in a certain way. But it’s a fine line to walk ’cause like fuck your respectability politics, but also like… I really do want to get elected one day.

 

You recently started working at a nearby homeless shelter, while you’re a full time student. How do you find the time with studying and do you have any advice for other students looking to get involved in their communities while they’re in school?

Getting involved in your community while you’re in school is really kind of hard, because as someone who was really invested in their community back home, having to leave that community really hurt. It forced me to redefine what community meant to me, and I think that a lot of college students have to do that. They’re moving into a space that’s usually going to be different from the demographic or socioeconomic makeup of the place where they’re from.

My best advice is to think about community in a broader sense — who are your people? Who has the same experience as you?

For me, my people are first Gen., low income students. So I started organizing around that on campus. We have one of these things called special interest communities at Columbia — a LGBTQIA+ special interest community or Latinx special interest community — and they have a physical space on campus, in addition to funding, and the recognition of being a special interest community. First generation low income students have never had that recognition on Columbia’s campus. So me and my friends first semester organized around it, got the recognition and the physical space for next year. That’s just one example of what redefining what community means to you. It’s the same with the work I do at the homeless shelter, where I had to redefine who shared my experience, and when I thought about my own experiences with homelessness and wanting to give back to that experience, stay tied to it, and stay grounded in it — it just seemed like a natural next step. My school has something called the Housing Equity Project, so they were able to link me [with] this homeless shelter. And now I’m able to spend Thursday nights there. I go there at 7:30 p.m. on Thursdays and I spend the night. Then I get up at 5 a.m., head out by 6 and then I get back to school for my 8:40 a.m. on Fridays.

 

What’s your role at the homeless shelter?

According to New York Law, to keep the shelter open, they have to have someone there at all times who is not receiving services. So I’m that person.

I spend the night and a men’s shelter, so it’s just me and the guys. They are so self-sufficient. It’s in a synagogue, so these Jewish women cook awesome dinners for all of us and then they leave and I stay. And the guys do the dishes, they clean up, they do everything because they’re self-sufficient and they’re regular people and they’re responsible for that living space because it’s theirs. I just kind of sit there and talk to them, hang out with them. It’s really pretty easy. New York law requires someone to be there, and I have the time because I’m a college student, so why not give them the opportunity to just have that space be their own?

 

I think that’s amazing — [you’re following] your mission in every aspect of your life.

Absolutely. I believe activism isn’t something you do 9-5, it just who you are. And you have to make it a part of your character. My activism is a piece of who I am. My organizing is my mindset.

 

Is there a certain piece of advice you’ve been given that’s really stuck with you?

You’re not defined by your productivity, and just because you’re not turning out tons of interviews or maybe you didn’t get that paper done on time — if you are a person, you’re still valuable.

 

We like to round KAAST interviews out some more personal, like dating-ish questions. Any advice for dating with a busy schedule?

Oh girl, I’m the worst about this. Me and my boyfriend lived together for like 3 years, so I was practically married. I came to college and we ended up breaking up, but I came here and was like, oh my god, how do I act? Like I literally don’t know how to act around men. I have begun to explore that phase of my life, and I’ve actually found that so many men disrespect my fucking time, and I don’t play that. And I let them know.

So dating with a busy schedule, I would say requires really good communication on both ends. Be honest and upfront with yourself, be honest and upfront with other people, especially around how much time you can give and how much energy you can give.

 

Do you have any advice for someone going through a breakup?

Uh, yeah. My breakup was tough. I’ve actually been through a lot of breakups in my life, a lot of long term relationship breakups. I’m a big believer that everything in this world is happening the way it is supposed to. Breaking up with someone, even though it feels like it, is actually not the end of the world. And everything that seems like a challenge can be turned into an opportunity for growth. It’s just about the way you look at it.

and breakups are a beautiful opportunity to [ask yourself] what did I learn in that relationship, how is it shaping me as an individual and how can I be my best individual self now? Breakups will teach you that the only person that’s gonna be around forever — or has to be around forever — is you. So your relationship with someone else can never be more important than your relationship with yourself.

 

You can keep up to date with Deja Foxx’s latest projects and activism on Instagram and Twitter. 

Photo of Foxx by Salwan Georges, following (in order of appearance) by Adyana Covelli and Kate Phillips.

 

Interview With A Doula

Humans have been giving birth at home for thousands of years. Despite all the advances in modern medicine, there are still scores of women today who opt for delivering their babies in private settings rather than at a hospital. 

Jalisha Hanshaw, 23, is a certified doula living in upstate New York. She goes to school for Health Service Administration and Women Studies at CUNY Lehman College. I had the chance to talk to Jalisha about what it means to be a doula. Below is an edited transcript of our discussion.

 

Can you start by explaining what a doula is?

Hanshaw: A doula is basically a birth worker. We help women through pregnancy, birth, and even postpartum. We don’t deliver [the baby]; we’re usually there for emotional and mental support. So whenever they need any help like with anxiety or getting through the whole birthing process, we’re there to help them get through it mentally and emotionally.

 

Can you differentiate between a midwife and a doula?

A midwife actually has the certification to perform the birthing process. It’s basically an assistant to the doctor. Basically we’re there aside the midwife, but we don’t even have to be with a midwife, we can be there just assisting the mother [in] get through the birthing process. The difference between the two is that they’re certified and we’re not certified to perform birth, so we’re there just for the support. A lot of women don’t know the difference.

 

Can you talk about how your interest in this began?

My dad is actually a RN [registered nurse] at a hospital in New York City. One day my mom and I were going to pick up my dad and we were standing outside, and this lady and her husband pulled up in a minivan and she’s like, about to give birth. She didn’t really speak any English, and my mom speaks a little Spanish, she’s bilingual, so she was helping talking to her about the situation and trying to calm her down. I was rubbing her back and I felt so bad for her, she didn’t have any support. In that moment I was like, You know what? I really like doulas. I like helping woman through birth and their pregnancy and postpartum.

Also, I go to school for health service administration so I have a little bit of a background in human resources and why it’s important to always help people.

 

What was your training like?

I actually found the doula certification training through Instagram. Her name is Latham Thomas and she has her own organization called Mama Glow. I signed up for that and it was located in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. It’s a three day training and there are so many women who come to this event from all over the United States, from different countries. We’re usually there sitting in a circle. She’s a certified doula, she has a lot of connections to other people like acupuncturists and physicians.

The first day she’s actually teaching us about the anatomy of the woman’s body and what the body actually looks like before, during, and after pregnancy. So we’re learning about the science behind pregnancy and birth. The second day it’s more of like a holistic outlook. The third day is more about why it’s important to have a doula, so it’s more informative.

 

What’s the environment like where you work? Are you doing a lot of home births?

It’s really up to the mother. I live in upstate New York so a lot of woman do not know what a doula is, so they already have a birth plan. There aren’t a lot of places where I live where there are water births, home births, and access to midwives. A lot of women do just go to the hospital. I’m into virtual — a lot of women like their private births, so most of the time I’m on FaceTime with them. I haven’t actually been to the hospital with a mother yet just because they’re still unsure of the whole point of having a doula.

 

How do you think living here in New York affects what you do and the type of women you work with?

What I notice is there’s a big social disparity between different types of women. I feel like I have more access to white women than I do with people of color just because a lot of Caucasian women already have a lot of support from their families, their friends, versus someone who is Black — they don’t have as much support. So they experience more anxiety, more cesarean sections, and stuff like that.

I really try to target those populations — not saying I don’t target Caucasian women — you should never just target one population because everyone is different. But I notice that I do actually have to focus on those populations that don’t get those services. Today, I came from my orientation for maternal depression where we’re going to different boroughs of New York City that suffer from those social disparities. I’m looking forward to that because then I can actually get to know different types of women, understand their struggles, and why they don’t have a lot of support.

 

I know that the maternal mortality rate for women of color is higher [than that of white women]. Do you think that having access to doulas and people supporting them would help change that?

It starts with healthcare providers; they are the frontline to the patients. Having a lot of support is important, but having the knowledge and information about those resources comes from the healthcare provider. So I feel like doctors and midwives and social workers, everyone involved in the healthcare system needs to understand that they have to do their work, as well. I need to target those populations that struggle with maternal mortality, which is highest among African Americans.

The lady who gave me my certification is going around the country talking to residents [doctors and physicians], about how they need to interact with those communities. I think it’s important hearing it from the doula and midwife because for centuries, even before doctors and OB-GYNs existed, these people have been helping [others] give birth for thousands of years and have the most knowledge. That’s why we as people, as healthcare providers need to learn from them. They have so much knowledge about giving birth and pregnancy and postpartum.

 

Can you talk a little about your responsibilities with the women you work with?

The woman I work with right now suffers from severe anxiety. She’s almost due, so I’m trying to figure out the best ways to bring down her anxiety [with] different essentials oils, prenatal yoga.

Anxiety comes from stress. This is her first child, [so this anxiety] is very common. People who have children their first time are very scared and they don’t know what to expect. She has a lot of support from her husband, and we’re starting to do sleeping hypnosis on her, which relaxes the mind before she goes to bed. Affirmations are something good, too, like a poem or something to read to her while she’s giving birth. Also breathing techniques. Acupuncture induction is good, too, because Pitocin [a drug that helps the uterus contract during labor] is kind of dangerous because when that happens, they’re not able to feel themselves pushing out the child and that can cause blood clots. Doing holistic and natural remedies is the best way to go, especially for someone who’s high risk.

 

That was something that I found so interesting. I heard about hypnosis and how that can totally change how a woman thinks. They can go into their pregnancy and the birthing process with a completely different mindset, and that can actually relieve the pain. These holistic practices are something you learn during training?

Yeah, between those three days she actually had some acupuncturists come in and teach us how to induct the mother if she’s like 40, 41 weeks. A lady named Kimberly — she’s in charge of birth consulting — she came and introduced her book to us. I’m actually taking a birth consulting class in May, so I’m going to be learning more about that. That’s a separate certification so I’m trying to get that as well so I can learn more about how to help mothers, because the most important thing is that she comes back to [a healthy] mindset after. A lot of women go into postpartum depression because of a lack of support and not understanding how their body is now versus before [birth].

 

Do you ever talk to mothers, either while their pregnant or postpartum about sex?

Yeah, that’s really important. Having sex during your birth is actually encouraged because the more you’re open and aroused the faster the process is.

 

Wait, during the actual birth?!

They suggest it. Not actual intercourse, but being aroused is another way of opening up. Another reason why some people have C-sections is because they’re so tense. It’s hard for the baby to come out of the vagina because she’s so tense. So that’s why it’s so important to have, like I said before, a lot of support, especially from the partner or the husband, whoever is there who’s been supporting her since the beginning [of the labor process] is very important. And that’s why it’s important to have a doula because some people just don’t have that support.

 

What’s something you wish everyone could know about being a doula or pregnancy and childbirth, in general?

I wish people were more open to holistic things. Ever since the start of the 19th century when OB-GYNs and medicine were introduced, [there’s] been a change, especially for women.

I feel like we should really focus on how to use natural things instead of medicine, because medicine is not always the answer. Half of the time you don’t even have to use medicine. If you have a headache, for example, or you have menstrual cramps. You can simply take a walk. These [are] things people don’t know, and I think it’s important that they do. Especially communities, like I said before, that aren’t informed about alternative solutions.

 

What’s a personal goal you have in this field?

I want to see everyone go through a natural birth. I don’t want anyone to say, “I had to have a C-section. I had to take…” Even my mother, she practically almost died giving birth to my brother because of the simplest complications that could’ve been solved. It’s terrible to hear those things and I feel like a lot of those things could be resolved if people were given the right information and people were given the support.

 

So you haven’t witnessed an actual birth?

Not yet, I just got my certification in October, so between that time and now I was searching for women who were 5-6 months pregnant. I have a few clients right now, I have one that’s going to be delivering on February 24th, and then one who’s due June 4th. Right now I’m working with them. I’m really excited for February 24, because she wants me to physically be there — which is very different because a lot of women, once I tell them that I have to be there to witness the birth, it’s like, “Oh, never mind. I want it to be personal.” Which is fine, everyone is different, but knowing someone wants me to be there and wants that support is very exciting.

 

That’s so cool. Are there any resources you would recommend to people who are interested in becoming a doula, or who are interested in the services you provide?

People can email me or DM me on Instagram if they have any questions about fertility, having a doula, postpartum. I’ll be more certified in that section in the Spring [of 2019]. If they’re interested, they can email me at mynamesjalisha@gmail.com.

 

 

For more information on the services a doula provides, click here. You can follow Jalisha on Instagram here. 
Photos of Jalisha taken her brother, Jamont Hanshaw. 

 

Making Peace With A Bad Childhood

For me, childhood was a broken constellation of discontent. I am still trying to piece together the shapes formed by the fragments of my memory. Thoughts come to me in bursts. Every particle of the story swirls around, shifts, changes form. Nothing is stagnant.

Our earliest ideas of love come from the people who raise us. The powerful sensitivity of words, the comfort of touch, the complexity of building a home together — these are things we can only learn through human interaction. Usually, it is our parents who teach us these lessons. And sometimes, what we’re taught gives us a strange conception of love.

My parents weren’t around very much when I was growing up. My mother was finishing her PhD and my father was busy with the family company. Caregivers came and went from my life. I had babysitters, after-school programs, grandparents, etc., etc. I didn’t spend enough time with any of the adults in my life to develop deep attachments.

From the ages of five to six, I wrote notes to my mother, nearly every single day. She has them taped up on the walls of her home office now, half-hidden amidst her piles of academic papers. She didn’t mention them to me for years. When I finally rediscovered my notes half a decade after the time of their composition, my mother told me, with an innocent smile, how much they had meant to her. How they had helped her feeling connected to me even when she wasn’t home.

Part of me is grateful she kept them. More of me is hurt, bitter, confused. If she had the time to decorate, why couldn’t she have said something to me sooner?

My parents used to call me “hugby” when I was a toddler because I liked to hug people so much. This will probably come as a surprise to anyone who knows me today. I am many things, but physically affectionate is not one of them.

I feared touch for a long time. Part of it may be a cultural thing. I grew up in Japan, a country not particularly known for its fondness of physical contact. Then again, I am half-American, westernized, non-traditional. There must be other reasons for why touch feels like a foreign entity to me.

I don’t remember my hugby days. In my earliest memories, my parents and I are already in separate worlds. I fear my father for reasons that will only become clear to me years later. My mother only pays attention to me when I disappear from the room. They do not kiss me goodnight. When they hold my hand, I pull back so hard that I habitually dislocate my arm. If I was born a hugger, what happened to me after?

The first and only time I tried to run away from home, I was seven years old. In my mind, I had it all figured out. I packed a few days’ worth of clothes, all of the money I had, a toothbrush, my DS, a flashlight, and my favorite stuffed animal (an anthropomorphic elephant wearing a plaid jumpsuit, very chic). I would pretend to go to bed 9 p.m., but then rise again at 11 p.m. to make my escape. Where would I head? A nearby tunnel — dingy but sturdy, able to protect me from the elements. I’d read a memoir about homelessness so I knew what I was about.

I couldn’t sleep that night. I lay in bed staring at the ceiling, counting down the minutes until I could make my way to freedom. As the clock finally struck eleven, I gently peeled off my covers and placed my feet onto the floor. I then tiptoed over to my desk and, as quietly as I could, opened one of the drawers to look for my keys.

“Hey, what are you doing?” A sleepy voice rang out in the darkness. I looked back. My half-brother had been staying in my room for the past few days. Apparently I hadn’t been quiet enough because he was now sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

“Nothing!” I said in a loud whisper, nearly a shout in the silence of night. I slammed my desk drawer shut and climbed into bed, cursing my unwise choice of day.

Normalcy is ill-defined. We call only what we have experienced “normal.” How many people must experience the same event for it to be considered normal?

I think I was eleven when I realized I had never said the words “I love you” to anyone. The realization came when I heard one of my friends talking to her mother on the phone. The one-sided conversation consisted mostly of uh-huhs and yes/no’s, but a set of words stood out to me.

“I love you too.” With that, my friend promptly hung up the phone. I did not even think to hide my astonishment as I asked her, “What? You just say that? Like, after the end of a call?”

“You mean ‘I love you’?”

I nodded.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s nice, you know, to remind each other of that.” Pause. “Don’t you do that with your parents?”

“No, I don’t.” Longer pause. “Is that normal?”

My first girlfriend was much older than me, older than I care to admit now. She kissed me first (my very first kiss), liked kissing me, at times very delicately and at other times like there was nothing else. I only remember kissing back a handful of times. Not because I didn’t like her but because I had learned a while ago that sometimes pulling away gets you more than remaining close. She let me stay over when I was too scared to stay home. I always left before morning so my parents wouldn’t find out.

I was fifteen when I decided that I wanted more of a family. It took hours of convincing myself and several deep breaths, but I managed to walk myself over to the couch where my father was sitting. He was watching a video on his phone, completely oblivious to me.

“Dad,” I said. He kept looking at his phone. “Dad,” I repeated. He waited several more seconds before pausing the video at an opportune point. He looked up, seemingly confused. I understood why. This didn’t usually happen, this whole me-talking-to-him business.

I sat down next to him. “Dad, I’ve been thinking a lot lately and I — well, I don’t feel like we ever really talk. And I’d like that to change. I really would. But I don’t feel like I can.” Deep breath. “So I was wondering if you’d be willing to try therapy. So we could, you know, learn to communicate. And all that.”

My voice sounded too staggered. I bit my tongue as soon as I’d managed to spit out the words I’d planned. My father remained silent too long for my comfort. But in the end, after a sharp inhale through the nostrils, he said, “I’ll think about it.”

An immense weight evaporated off of my chest. I smiled and went to bed happy. The next day when he picked me up from school, my father told me he’d decided that I was full of shit. The words “your feelings don’t matter” were thrown around at some point.

Secrets either divide or they protect. I have yet to figure out which of these statements is correct.

My grandfather died when I was sixteen. On the plane ride to the funeral, my mother finally clarified my past. “I know your dad only says bad things about his father, but his feelings are more complicated than that. Your grandfather was abused by his stepfather so that’s the only way he knew how to act. He didn’t know how to show affection in anything other than material presents, and he didn’t know what to do with himself when he was upset. But he really did love your dad, and I know it doesn’t seem like it to you, but your dad really loved him too. It’s just hard for people like them to express how they feel.”

She said more but I don’t remember. I just kept nodding.

Senior year of high school was the first time I ever heard the words used for me. “I know it can be difficult to live in a household with an emotionally abusive parent, but I want you to remember that it’s not your fault.”

I was sitting in my school counsellor’s office. It was a bright afternoon, too bright for the atmosphere of the room. I didn’t look her in the eyes; I couldn’t. I kept my focus on a spot of sunlight on the wooden coffee table in front of me.

I had opened up to a teacher about my home troubles for the first time. It was the beginning of the school year and I was trying to juggle academics, extracurriculars, college applications, and getting a license. I had to consult my father about my future, which inevitably resulted in tension. The previous night, he had told me to leave the house. Then he apologized a few minutes later. The usual pattern.

The teacher I had spoken to suggested I go see the counsellor, so there I was. It was harder for me to speak than I expected it to be. I’m a writer. Words shouldn’t be difficult for me. And yet.

It made sense once she said it, but I had never really considered myself a victim of abuse. I had made my peace with the fact that I didn’t have the best relationship with my parents, and I had left it at that. I never liked the word “victim.” It takes a certain amount of agency away from the person it refers to — someone that does not perform an action but is performed upon. It is a powerless position, an identity bestowed by others. I never wanted to align myself with such a term.

Just a few weeks before I graduated high school, one of my teachers told me something that has stuck with me. “You’re very emotionally aware for your age, and I think that comes from having to navigate a household you shared with someone who is quite the opposite.”

That one simple sentence turned the tables on the status of my victimhood.

I think that forgiveness is an ongoing process. It’s not about looking at the past, shrugging your shoulders, and going, “Well, that’s that.” It’s an active struggle to redefine how you see your own life. I think my childhood will always be a painful memory, and nothing will ever change that. But there is a reason why I describe this period of my life as a constellation: it is an object of projection and an arguably beautiful thing, because in the end, it is the place from which my strength of character comes.

My idea of love might be more broken than most. This I admit. But I would like to think that I am also more aware of my capacity to change than most. Because I have seen myself grow in the short time that has passed after leaving home for college. Every day I find myself flinching a little less when a friend lays an affectionate hand on my shoulder. Every day I find it easier to say “I love you” to the people I care about. Every day I feel a new sense of tenderness growing in my heart.

I wrestle with the stars each and every day. If they are the ones that spell out my destiny, then I will use every force in my power to move them towards a better future. Luckily for me, nothing in the universe ever stays the same.

 

Photos by Kaela Smith. 

Sex On SSRIs

“Are you gonna cum?” my partner asks, pausing the throes of passion to show concern. Already tired and sweaty from attempting to do the nasty, I say to him, “Just a little longer. I’m right on the edge!”


This continues for what feels like forever before I resign and let my partner cum. I roll off of him, feeling a bit despondent. Sure, the act of sex itself was still a lot of fun, but the connection that flows between a couple when both parties orgasm was one of my favorite parts.

During my time on selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors (SSRIs, commonly used to treat depression), every time my partner and I had sex, I would be trying to reach climax practically the entire time. I was wet, I was in the mood, and I’d always feel like I was on the brink of something — but no matter how close I thought I was, I could never get there.

I had to accept the fact that this would be my reality while on Paxil.

Paxil seemed to be a worthwhile antidepressant, but the sexual side effect started to drag me down over time. I spent forever reading drug reviews on forums to determine if this was a side effect that would pass with time. The results varied. Ultimately, I knew that my sex life was extremely important to my partner and me. So, I switched to a different medication.

Later, I had mood stabilizers added to my medication regimen. As far as I could tell, they didn’t seem to affect me sexually. I could still get in the mood and cum. Nice, I thought, things are finally back to normal. Not long after that, my partner called to check on me one evening when I was on my way home. During the conversation, he asked me a question. “Do you think the mood stabilizers have affected your sex drive? It seems like you haven’t been in the mood as often.” Dammit! That lowered libido snuck the hell up on me!

Unfortunately, these aren’t uncommon occurrences. According to the CDC, as of 2014, about one in every eight Americans over the age of 12 reported recent antidepressant use. While females more commonly take antidepressants than males, the sexual dysfunction for each sex is just as devastating. Women tend to experience blocked or delayed orgasms, a delay in or lack of natural lubrication, or decreased libido. In men, sexual side effects present themselves through erectile dysfunction (difficulty obtaining an erection), decreased libido, and delayed or blocked orgasms.

The reasons antidepressants tend to cause sexual dysfunction haven’t quite been figured out yet, but doctors have compiled a list of antidepressants that tend to be the worst culprits, including Paxil, Lexapro, and Prozac. We should keep in mind that our bodies are all different, so these medicines may not specifically give you sexual dysfunction.

For those who aren’t sexually active, don’t plan to be sexually active, or aren’t interested in sexual activities, these side effects won’t be a hindrance in life. However, for those who enjoy sexual activities or are in a sexually active relationship, an entire portion of their lives can become negatively impacted. Evidently, these medications can inspire sexual stress within both partners.  

In spite of that distress, I’ve seen articles about women resigning to it. They feel that they have to choose between their mental health and their sex lives. It breaks my heart, but I understand it because I was once in a similar position. They go through the process of trying to find the right medication, and — trust me — it can be a long, exasperating process. When they find one that makes them feel like they can function well again, they don’t want to let it go. At that point, they’re so exhausted from the struggles with their mental health that they’re willing to try anything.

However, there are also people who are struggling with their mental health who refuse to begin or continue taking antidepressants that may help them because of the rampant reports of sexual dysfunction. Antidepressants could potentially be an important aspect of their recovery process, but they choose to abstain.

In my opinion, a medication that doesn’t enhance all of the parts in your life that are most important to you is still not worth taking. A huge part of the recovery and coping process with mental illness is doing what you can personally to live healthily — not trade one demon for another. There shouldn’t be a point in your individual process where you find yourself saying, “I experience this shit now, but at least I’m not depressed.” It’s worth fighting for a sex life that satisfies you. 

If you take SSRIs and  are experiencing negative sexual symptoms, talk to your doctor. I know it can feel embarrassing, but it’s there job to make sure you’re as healthy as possible — and for most of us, that includes a fulfilling sex life. Also, keep an open dialogue with your sexual partner(s). Try not to let anyone make you feel guilty for struggling. You can also try different new things on your own or in the bedroom that may work past sexual dysfunction as you get your medications straightened out. It may just be a matter of switching positions or intensity at times.
Be patient and forgiving with yourself.

Above all, do what you feel will benefit you most in the long run, no matter the opinions of others. That’s what I’m learning to do.


 

For more information on how SSRIs can impact your sex life, click here.

 

First photo by Brianna Saenz, and the following two by Isabelle Abbott.