How To Have An Orgasm (in Five Stories)

One subject I am very familiar with is orgasm.

After all, I’m a doctor of human sexuality. However, my understanding of orgasm comes more from personal experience than anything I’ve studied. The orgasm, like many things in life, is experiential. It must be explored, felt, witnessed, and experienced in order to develop regular access to this most incredible of experiences. The orgasm is also something individual, and in the same way that no two people have the same fingerprint— no two people have the same network of nerves and fantasy that escalate their arousal to orgasm.

Everyone wants to experience orgasms, and yet many have never experienced one, or the ones they do experience are small, short, or lacking pleasure. I could lecture on orgasms from many perspectives, but since storytelling is one of the best teachers, let me share five sex stories that can lead you in the direction of, what is for many, the elusive orgasm. For those who haven’t experienced an orgasm, who find it difficult to achieve one, or who are interested in having greater variety and intensity, I think you will find some clues hidden here.

Story 1: Pure Sensation

When I was a girl, I often played sex games with two of my female friends. Our senses were heightened as we role-played all we knew about men, women, and sex. We didn’t know it at the time, but this was arousal. One time, I was straddling my friend who was lying on her back and grinding my genitals against hers “playing sex” when suddenly this uncontrollable wave of pleasure went cascading through my body. It scared her and she asked me to stop. That was my first orgasm. As an adult, I’ve found that pure sensation in the form of clitoral stimulation can regularly bring me to orgasm. Pure sensation can also come from a partner in the form of breast sucking, oral sex, and really good fingering, or by using a vibrator. If I’m relaxed and my headspace is ready to “play” with sex, I will find my way to orgasm with pure sensation.

Story 2: Pure Fantasy

Every so often I am having sex with a partner and my first orgasm refuses to make an appearance. I’m grinding and enjoying and relaxed, but I can feel that there is a long divide between where I am and where I want to be. That’s when I dial up my fantasy. What is the most taboo thing I can imagine happening at that moment? Some of my personal fantasies are imagining that it’s my “job” to make my lover come, that I’m a sex worker or concubine, that I’m younger than I am, that my lover is going to come inside of me and make a baby, or that we’re being watched by others. Focusing on really erotic thoughts or taboo aspects of my relationship, along with focusing on physical sensation like how our genitals feel together or the sensation of my chest against theirs will almost always bring me to orgasm, and quickly!

Story 3: Pure Mind

I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve had orgasms in my dreams. In my dreams, I can be doing any number of sexual things with a man or a woman. Then when I start to orgasm, I wake up and either let the orgasm finish its wave on its own, or I reach for my vulva to rub and hold it to continue the orgasm for as long as possible. I’m not alone in this experience. Science has shown that we can bring ourselves to orgasms through thought alone. We also know that orgasms often happen during sleep as blood circulates and engorges the genitals in both men and women around three to four times per night. Basically, men aren’t the only ones waking up with an erection! One time I remember I was staying at my aunt’s house and sharing a bed with my mother when I woke up having an orgasm in my sleep. Luckily, I don’t think she heard me.

Story 4: Pure Intensity

The first time I experienced vaginal orgasm was after my normal clitoral orgasm on top of my boyfriend. I had come really quickly, so I got on my hands and knees afterward to feel him from behind me. He was standing and thrusting in and out of me when I started having these waves of orgasm. They were softer than my clitoral orgasms, but seemed to have no beginning and no end and they were clearly centered in my vagina. The more I breathed, relaxed, and vocalized, the more intense they became. My body and mind entered a trance-like state, and I didn’t want the sensation to end. In fact, I wanted it deeper and harder, and the longer it went on the better I felt. Now it made sense why someone would want to have penetrative sex for hours and hours! There was all this pleasure potential inside of me just waiting to be woken up.

Story 5: Pure Naughtiness

Sometimes no matter what I do, I cannot reach orgasm. Usually, it’s from fatigue or some mental distraction, or maybe my partner has ejaculated instantly and I am left to find an orgasm on my own. This is when pure naughtiness comes in. Focusing on anything forbidden is a rapid way of intensifying arousal that never fails to bring me to the pleasure I’m looking for. For me, having my partner looking at my genitals while I masturbate, spanking me, touching my anus or penetrating it, telling me what a bad girl I am or how slutty I’m being, or sharing a fantasy of something we’re doing together will take me to the doorstep of an orgasm every time. This is the one benefit of all the sexual taboos in our culture— we can use them to have even more fun!

Orgasms are unique and individual to everyone and always changing throughout our lives. I hope these stories throw some fuel on the fire of your orgasm and help you discover all the pleasure your body is designed for. Because you are designed for pleasure! It only keeps getting better the more time and love you give it. Shame, trauma, and lack of education can slow down the process, but your sexuality is always inside of you wanting to express itself. So make time and explore. The world is awaiting your orgasmic, sexy self. Your orgasm is beautiful.

Want to learn more about orgasm and female sexuality? Check out Lauren’s courses, books, and upcoming sexuality summit at www.LaurenBrim.com. Or read even more sex stories in my first book, “The New Rules of Sex” available on Amazon.

Dysphoria

It’s been 10 years since I graduated high school. I can’t help but sit here and think about how different my life would be if I had known that I wasn’t an awkward ugly duckling who was going to turn into a swan. I was a man trapped in a woman’s body.

I always see dysphoria described as this constant, nagging hatred towards one’s body— a struggle people often describe as a lifelong feeling. But for me, I really had no idea I was experiencing dysphoria until my mid-twenties.

Looking back now, I find it so silly. I wish someone had told me, “Hey you aren’t crazy, all these feelings you’re having, this constant questioning— other people feel this way too. You aren’t alone.”

I spent so much time insisting that I didn’t have dysphoria, that I wasn’t transgender, that one day I was going to meet someone and things were just going to line up. I’d feel at home in my body. Sex would seem fun. My family and I would start to smooth things out, and I would be so happy that I waited for things to get better.

That never happened.

In 2014 I began to see this girl, and she was going to spend the night. I hadn’t had many sexual experiences, which I chalked up to me being nervous and slightly awkward. But I remember that night as a crucial turning point in my understanding of myself. Suddenly, I knew that it wasn’t me being awkward, it wasn’t me being nervous, but it was in fact dysphoria causing me to feel this way.

We were making out and she tried to move things a step further. I completely disassociated and got very quiet. At that moment, I was so afraid because whenever she touched me, there was only one thought running through my mind: I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why I didn’t have a penis when I so desperately felt like I should. I knew this was dysphoria, but I still didn’t want to accept it.

I tried to live as a lesbian, but it didn’t feel right. I was always dating or pursuing straight women, but something about me felt different. These relationships would always end in heartbreak for one reason or another.

I tried to live as gender fluid because I knew that my family wouldn’t be accepting of me as trans, and I was afraid of their rejection. I thought that I could have the best of both worlds and that as long as my friends and significant other saw me as masculine, and my family saw me as female, I could appease everybody and still live my life. But it wasn’t enough. I always felt something was missing, and the more that people began to gender me as male, the more right it felt.

It took three more years until I garnered the strength to take hold of my life and accept the inevitable. I moved to California and began working for a prominent TV company. One day while discussing an episode with some of my female producers, everyone went around commenting on how they could relate to the production’s female star and the hardships she was going through as a woman. When it was my turn to speak, a horrifying realization overcame me. I could in no meaningful way relate to this woman’s experience. While I had lived some of the implications of being deemed a woman by society, I was not having the same emotional reaction as my female coworkers. I did not feel the connection, the bond. I simply couldn’t relate.

So on this day, at the age of 26, with the knowledge that I could support myself and that I had insurance from my job, I made the decision to transition from female to male. This decision saved my life.

I remember waking up the day after my first testosterone shot. Already, I felt different. A feeling of peace washed over me, and the racing thoughts were gone. Within the following weeks, my anxiety began to fade. I was no longer waking up with panic attacks. I was able to sit down and watch movies again. The constant need to see some form of masculinity within myself stopped. I no longer spent every waking second of my life trying to sort through my racing thoughts.

While I’m still very early on in my journey, being only one year and five months on testosterone, I am more and more certain every day that this was what I needed to do. Not everyone needs hormones or surgery to feel complete, but I am so grateful I had the opportunity to take charge of my life in the way that was best for me. I can now see a future for myself. In 2014, I really didn’t see one. I want to encourage anyone feeling lost or alone that it’s never too late to create the life you always wanted. To come out and be yourself— not what society wants you to be.

You can find happiness. You don’t have to be consumed with anxiety or feelings of isolation. You can have a sex life, you can have a successful job, you can have a family, you can find love. It’s okay to experiment with your gender. You don’t have to go on hormones overnight or get a major surgery. Gender and sexuality are a huge part of who we are, and sometimes we have to do a little experimentation in order to figure out what truly fits.

Although life is still challenging and anything but perfect, I never dreamed that I would one day be able to wake up and start my day without being crippled by the anxieties caused by my dysphoria. Now, I can breathe, and that in itself is so much to be grateful for.

Catholic Sexual Suppression

From as young as I can remember, I was taken to Catholic Mass every Sunday morning by my mom and dad. I was sent to private Catholic school from kindergarten until university, and everyone in my immediate and extended family is Catholic. Throughout my childhood, we prayed as a family before meals, and in school I studied the Bible as doctrine. Despite all of this, I was a skeptic, even when I was young. I remember being six years old and asking my teacher why gold ornamented our church when, according to her, millions of people were living in poverty. I pondered aloud to my classmates and within earshot of my teachers why women weren’t allowed to be priests. And it was this question in particular— after my teacher told me I was breaking a moral tenet in even asking it— that prompted me to question all that I was told never to doubt.

My parents never spoke to me about sex. We never watched movies as a family that mentioned it, and they never acknowledged it. As a result, I grew up thinking that sex was wrong, that speaking about sex was wrong, that embedded in just that syllable there was something wrong. Though I was outspoken in some ways, this didn’t seem like a topic that I was even allowed to think about, let alone talk about in school or to my parents. And so I was shamed into dealing with the confusion myself. My resulting ignorance led to years of frustration, confusion, sadness, anger, and resentment, and this experience is not unique to me.

I remember so many nights when I was young; my friends and I would sit on each other’s beds asking the same questions over and over, guessing, hypothesizing, wondering without satiation, without answers, ever. We would keep our voices hushed, always, checking outside the closed door and down the hall to make sure that no parents were lingering— but never asking what it would mean if they were.

“When are we going to learn about puberty? When are we going to learn about how babies are made?” I remember asking those questions, verbatim, to older girls who had finished Catholic grade school and moved on to high school. They all told us the same thing: that they weren’t comfortable talking about it, but that there was a section in sixth grade science and religion classes that would answer our questions.

Finally, sixth grade came, along with its much anticipated section: Family Life—not “Sex Ed,” unless you wanted to be chastised by a teacher after class. A few days before this new unit was set to begin, my peers and I were sent home with slips to be signed by our parents, soliciting consent for the school so that we could learn about sex. I gave the paper to my mom silently. She asked, “Do you have any questions?” to which I said that I didn’t, because how could a 12-year old girl who had never learned what sex was have any questions beyond “What?” “Why?” or “How could you?”

I expected that after this class I would have a firm understanding of what sex was. By this time, I still didn’t know how I had even come to exist. I was told over and over that my parents prayed to God and after that my mom miraculously had my baby brother in her womb. At one point, when I was ten, my friend tried to explain sex to me. I didn’t believe her, figured she was trying to deceive or corrupt me, but I was too nervous to ask anyone else or to ever bring it up. I wasn’t even aware enough of my own biology to know whether or not what she described could be possible.

Needless to say, I was very excited for the class section. But once the program began, I was continuously dissatisfied. In gender-seperated units, we talked about hormones, about the endocrine system, about puberty and the very, very basic parts of human anatomy. We kept waiting until eventually one student just brought it up: “What is sex?” she asked. But my teacher refused to answer. Not only would she not tell us, but she revealed that she didn’t think that this unit should exist in schools at all. In the religion component of the program, our teacher told us to dress modestly and to avoid boys.

The curricula that came later, in 7th and 8th grade and then throughout my high school years, were equally horrifying. I learned that contraception, abortion, premarital sex, and gay sex were wrong; somehow, though, natural family planning is okay, which means that “pulling out,” or strategically having sex and hoping (maybe praying) that you don’t get pregnant, is okay. But using a condom isn’t. I came away with the understanding that sex is wrong, that I shouldn’t think about it or engage in it. I left the program convinced that I would never enjoy sex and that— more importantly— I shouldn’t.

To feel suppressed, stifled, and shamed into not being able to openly talk about sex is both dangerous and deeply damaging. For years of my life, I literally did not know how I had come into this world. I was forcibly exposed to sexualized bodies of women in the media but never offered an explanation for why this was happening or how I was supposed to feel about it. I couldn’t understand my own biology; I couldn’t understand evolution. Sex for me was a highly charged word and concept. I really believed that it was wrong to even think about it. As a result, I developed severely negative perceptions of anyone who I’d come to find out had engaged in it, and held the burden of resentment in my heart for years. I felt betrayed by all the adults that I was supposed to trust, by anyone with children, even.

What has maybe been the hardest part, though, has been understanding my own sexuality. Parts of my body, so intimate, were foreign to me. I was unfamiliar with my own composition, and unfamiliar with any kinds of emotions or feelings attached to it. All of these situations, and the problems and frustrations that accompany them, are avoidable. Sex is not inherently charged with negativity, despite how it has been treated historically.

If you are in this situation too, or something like it, know that you are capable of and responsible for creating, developing, and deciding your own views on sexuality. You are not responsible for upholding anyone else’s perspective. This means that you are allowed to talk about it and to ask about it. It is not your responsibility to censor yourself for the sake of other people’s comfort, especially when it means cutting yourself off from vital information that you deserve. Not your parents, not your school, not your peers, not a millennia-old tradition like the Catholic Church has authority over your curiosity.

Eventually, thanks to conversations with friends and reading that I did on my own, I became familiar with and developed my own opinions on sex. Throughout my first few months at university, I realized that I do not deserve to live with residual fear or discomfort. I don’t deserve to feel like I can’t ask questions, and I certainly don’t deserve to feel like my curiosity is anything other than healthy and right. Neither do you.

Orgasm Equality

“Nope, I never have.”

He was asking me, again, as if I hadn’t already told him I don’t orgasm, as if it was just so appalling that I couldn’t possibly have been telling the truth the first time. In a twisted way, it was amusing that he was so insulted by what people with a vulva experience. I was a 21 year-old and had never had a orgasm. For most people who are socialized as a female, this isn’t surprising.

But of course I hadn’t. Even after living in a school district that covered (slightly) more than abstinence in sex-ed, even after voraciously reading every sex listicle or Yahoo answers thread, even after watching people fuck on TV and Chrome Incognito, I had barely heard anyone talk about what makes a vulva feel good.

Every mainstream magazine targeting women boasts the same derivative kind of article like “29 Ways to Drive Him Wild.” Movies constantly show women having a orgasm from penetration, when in reality, a majority of people with vulvas don’t. I literally once read an article about how to cut a grapefruit for the use of stimulating a penis, yet I’ve never read about how to stimulate a vulva. God forbid we want to pleasure ourselves, or our partners with vulvas.

The closest magazines get is usually along the lines of “Here’s how to accidentally get off during vaginal intercourse…” implying that intercourse is the only sexual act that matters. Laurie Mintz describes in Becoming Cliterate that language exemplifies the ways society centers sex around the male experience. Most people understand the word “sex” to mean vaginal intercourse between vulva and penis. This reliably leads people with penises to orgasm, and simultaneously negates the experience of non-hetero sex, manual, and/or oral sex— which are generally a more reliable route to orgasm for people who have a vulva.

Same goes for the overuse of the word and focus on “vagina.” The reason why Mintz encourages, rather, the use of “vulva” is that it’s more anatomically correct, plus it includes all of the different machinery that, depending on the person, may be more crucial to their sexual satisfaction than the vagina. The fact that the anatomy of female genitalia is not common knowledge, and that society frequently use the wrong word reinforces the idea that these bodies and their subsequent needs are not important.

What further proves this lack of consideration is the normalization of female pain during intercourse.

“A casual survey of forums where people discuss ‘bad sex’ suggests that men tend to use the term to describe a passive partner or a boring experience… But when most women talk about ‘bad sex,’ they tend to mean coercion, or emotional discomfort or, even more commonly, physical pain,” asserts Lili Loofbourow in her incredible article “The Price of Male Pleasure: Female Pain.” Heterosexual women are taught to expect little from sex or else face disappointment. We’re taught that our bodies are for satisfying men, not ourselves. That our partner’s pleasure is more important than our pain. That’s bullshit, and I’m angry about it.

Unfortunately, it is normal for a person socialized as female not to orgasm or enjoy sex. If you’re someone in that situation, know this: you are normal. You are not alone. If it doesn’t always feel that way, I understand. It definitely didn’t to me. Most of the time I felt like I would never enjoy sex, and any attempts to change that felt hopeless. I felt like a freak, worried maybe there was something medically wrong with me. I tried so hard to do everything I could to please my partners that when my lack of orgasm hurt their ego, I felt like I had let them down. I wished I could orgasm to make them feel good.

So that’s how I got to be 21, an expert on all things dick-approved but completely at a loss for what to do with my own vulva. I finally decided I deserved pleasure as much as my partners did, and that I would pursue mine as eagerly as I had theirs. As unfair as it is, I wasn’t going to stumble across sex-positive media centered around the female body and experience, so I had to seek it out.

I started masturbating. I bought a couple of vibrators. On OMGYes.com I found videos of people with vulvas explaining and demonstrating exactly what motions and rhythms worked for them. I read Come as You Are and Becoming Cliterate, which are both books specifically geared towards helping people with vulvas revolt against the toxic sexual norm and craft the fulfilling, reciprocal sex lives that we deserve.

Reading about other people who had struggled like me and had gone on to learn to enjoy sex gave me hope. It also made me feel normal for the first time. I could recognize how society had lead me to this position, which gave me the knowledge to walk away from all of the ideas that didn’t serve me, and walk right into my bedroom and give myself my own goddamn orgasm.

Deciding my pleasure was important and worthy of time and effort were the biggest factors leading to my orgasm, and in fact, it many ways more important than the orgasm itself.

In reality some people with vulvas don’t orgasm, and that’s okay, too. They can lead just as exciting and satisfying sex lives as everyone else. However, what good sex does include is knowing you and your partner’s body, which is why the lack of education on vulva satisfaction is so upsetting. When I initially admitted to a partner I had never orgasmed, I thought a lot about how his shock reaction revealed how little he understood the female body. Although, through the months and the books and the vibrators since, I was surprised to find out how little I understood about my own body, as well. Both parties needed to change.

If you’re having sex with someone, your pleasure should be as important as theirs. Oral sex should be reciprocal. Everyone should be taught where the clitoris is. Female masturbation should be as widely accepted by society as male masturbation. Public and private sex education should cover pleasuring people with vulvas! Additionally, emphasis should not be placed on vaginal intercourse as the sole valid form of sex.

More than anything, we need to talk about sex: as a community, as a society, with our parents, with our children. Reassure your friends that they are normal. Ask your partner to tell (or show!) you what makes them feel good. As Loofbourow says, “sex is always a step behind social progress in other areas because of its intimacy.” So, let’s talk about intimate justice and orgasm equality. Let’s give the next generation the education they need to have mutually satisfying encounters, instead of struggling and scrambling for years like many of us have. Let’s tell them what we wish our partners had known. And what we wish we’d known.

On Loneliness

Being lonely is something that I have dealt with for the majority of my life.

I’ve been fortunate to have loving and supportive family members throughout my life who have been there to reel me back in with loving affirmation when the emotional turbulence has become too much to bear. Unfortunately, though, there are sometimes situations where loved ones can only do so much. The instances in which I’ve felt most alone have been in some way related to segmented, peer-based experiences: meaning that while the safety and reassurance of a nurturing parental bubble feels good, in order to live and function in the world as a productive member of society, the bubble must be exited as one ages into adulthood.

Loneliness has manifested itself in several ways as I’ve grown, changed, and experienced different aspects of life. When you’re younger, loneliness, really any feeling, is easier to chalk up to being an evolving human being. In this stage of life, emotions and feelings are believed to be less substantive — whatever you’re going through at the time is said to be a hormonal driven “phase.” But people questioning the legitimacy of someone’s thoughts and feelings, discrediting one’s experience rather than attempting to understand it, can make coping that much more challenging.

This has lead me to believe that loneliness, although a universal feeling, manifests in a variety of different ways depending on the circumstances of our unique identities.

I grew up as an adopted black kid raised by a white family in a predominantly white area of New York. Most of my peers came from sheltered, conservative upbringings. Because of this, I was continuously subjected to stereotypical comments about my race and skin color: assumptions that I knew the name of every rapper, (even though I primarily grew up listening to alternative rock, pop punk, and screamo) and jokes like “Where did Caleb go? We can’t find him!” Even those who called themselves friends would routinely say outlandish things about other ethnic groups and assume it wouldn’t affect me because I wasn’t really black. I was an “oreo” as they dubbed me several times, in what I would now describe as an attempt to distance me from my own blackness.

As I grew up and gained more self-confidence, I began speaking up for myself. Nowadays, I have removed most of these toxic figures from my life and have moved on to focusing on myself and my goals. The process of solidifying one’s identity can be a lifelong journey, it is a journey I am still on, and each person should have the right to experience that journey without denigration.

Beyond my peer experiences of my youth, much of the loneliness that I’ve experienced in the last several years as an adult has been a result of a decision that I made. Even though I believe that this decision — moving across the country to a city where I did not know a soul in pursuit of a dream and personal growth — was one of the best decisions that I have made in my twenty-two years, it has not been without sacrifice. I have made wonderful, hopefully lifelong friends, and been able to experience things that I could previously never have imagined, altering my trajectory in an irreversible and impactful way. The relationships that I’ve formed, as well as the the opportunities and experiences that have come into my life, are things that seemed outside of the realm of possibility in the place where I grew up. My eyes have been opened to previously unexplored aspects of the human experience and my mind has expanded based on those realities.

All that said, even though I’ve had great fun in this new environment, it’s served as only a temporary suppression of the very the very human fears and concerns that, at some point, will infiltrate our consciousness. Regardless of my numerous attempts to lock these fears out, they always seem to have their own key.

Over the holidays I went back home, and although it was only for a couple of weeks, it was the longest period of time I’d been home in months. Seeing family was nourishing for my soul, and I am truly grateful for those weeks. After my trip home had concluded, I sat on the first of several flights to return to where I am as I write this, an apartment in Southern California. I tried my best to hold it together, and I did, at first. I eventually could not contain myself, however, and the tears erupted from my eyes as another passenger in my row slept peacefully in the window seat. It was at this point that I realized my attempt to suppress the sadness I felt was ultimately pointless. I cried because even though I was trying to tough it out, the reality of leaving my family meant returning to the ever-looming solitude of the recent past. It was an early flight, so the cabin lights were turned off, concealing me in darkness as I wept.

This was a couple of months ago, and I have since been in a brighter place, but throughout my life loneliness is something that I have never been able to completely shake. Being relegated to expressing sorrow in silence is something that has long plagued me as a black male who often felt that society had specific predetermined expectations for who I should be, and how my experience relates to others. An expectation to be hyper-masculine at all times, and to reject ever displaying anything that could be interpreted as weakness.

As a teenager, I can remember countless instances where my sexuality was called into question by peers because I spoke, and specifically dressed, in a certain style. Not only is this harmful because it shames those who might choose to explore self-expression in a personal way, but in turn, it also tries to compartmentalize something as complex as human sexuality into unrelated yet equated quantifiers, whose only basis is in stereotypes and ignorance. Thankfully, in recent times a clear transition has begun to take place. Openly expressing emotion has slowly become more accepted, even encouraged. But this was not always the case.

Today I am comfortable expressing that I have a great fear associated with death. Furthermore, as an individual who does not know if there is anything beyond this life, and who has spent a great amount of time doubting that there is, my primary focus has been living my life in a manner where I can express myself as freely as possible, while empowering others to do the same. The older I get the more focused I’ve become on spending time with people I feel truly value me; my family, my closest friends, and those who are committed to making the world a more accepting and loving place for all.

I want to tell anyone reading this that it’s okay to be afraid. It’s okay to think about how much time you have left with people and how best to spend it. It’s okay to feel like you don’t belong. It’s okay to be vulnerable. No matter where you fall along the spectrum of gender and sexuality, it’s okay to be emotional, to cry. It’s okay to fear being alone. Irrespective of your race, gender identity, sexuality, religion, or whatever you self-identify as, you should feel free to be yourself, and not feel as though you are being externally relegated to solitude or alienation based on who you are. I would not wish the loneliness that myself and countless other possess on anyone. For all I know, many of us may never stop feeling it, but I hope whoever reads this, no matter who you are, finds comfort knowing that they are not in pain alone, I stand here as an ally for you and with you.

Much love.

A (W)hole New World

To depict with accuracy what purchasing my first vibrator was like, I recommend that readers obtain some type of music device and listen to ‘A Whole New World’ as performed by Lea Salonga and Brad Kane, for its contents are integral to today’s topic.

I had been toying with the idea of buying a vibrator for months, years even. Having one time come so close to ordering a dildo online in the shape of Sailor Moon’s Cutie Moon Rod, I opted instead for a pair of white platform shoes. Eighteen year-old me had not yet felt the full wrath of a libido thrust upon her. The closest feeling was the thrill of arriving at university and not having to wear a kilt and blazer to school every day.

Fast-forward to three weeks ago. I entered the store with enthusiasm, a titillating sense of badassery accompanying me along with a wallet full of cash and an unraveling composure. Simply being inside the store was arousing on its own. The store’s squeaky-clean glass windows juxtaposed the seediness of other sex shops I had visited. I stared in awe at the sunlight streaming through like a heavenly beam onto a table of assorted cock rings. I expected a middle-aged man with a wiry beard and beer belly to look at me with disdain. I would then valiantly retort, “That’s right! I’m a young Asian woman in a sex shop! Screw your normative gender expectations!”

Instead, I was greeted with the firm smile of a frizzy-haired woman behind the register, a purple leash fitted loosely around her hand—the same purple as the shop’s sign. The other end was clipped to the collar of a chocolate brown dog who pattered towards me panting, tongue outstretched as I got my bearings, nodding and smiling sheepishly. I began to scan the merchandise, quickly deducing that the front of the store was beginner’s play. I marched with great gusto to the back, where a black velvet-lined wall showcased a series of phallic objects with circular bulges. I studied them quietly. It didn’t take me long to realize I was looking at the butt stuff.

I snapped back around, finally settling on a gentler, pink wall with an array of less intimidating toys delicately sprawled across a glass table. An older customer stood reading the back of a box while rocking a stroller back and forth. An infant in a yellow beanie slept peacefully inside.

I wasn’t there for very long. I chose a member from the pink wall that didn’t seem too overwhelming and took my purchase to the counter. With a dull face, the shopkeeper scanned and packaged it. I had prepared myself for judgmental looks and being handed a pamphlet with the words YOU’RE GOING TO HELL lambasted on the front, there was nothing of the sort. Instead, she handed me my bag and picked up her phone, turning to take snaps of her dog.

I recommend that readers now press play on their listening device. I rushed home, and once in my room, ripped the box to shreds. My hands fumbled as I opened my new toy in my own private space. There was something so completely foreign about this moment, yet the toy and the moment were mine. All mine.

A whole new world.

Yes, I am the Jasmine in this situation. And my Aladdin? My new, hot pink friend Emilia, with 12 different vibration settings.

A Case For Social Accountability

The United States has a rape problem. Even those with the most limited understanding of the topic know that that perpetrators rarely face justice. Out of one thousand rape cases, only 57 reports lead to an arrest, and only 6 of those lead to incarcerations.

As a society, we have only just begun waking up to the issue of sexual assault, thanks in part to the advent of many female-led movements, both in public and private. One goal of these movements is to help people feel more confident in openly speaking out against sexual assault and breaking the “culture of silence” that survivors often find themselves in. As we are discovering new ways to deal with sexual assault, both preemptively and through supporting survivors, a strategy that comes up often involves the complete social alienation of predators. In lieu of a legal framework that truly supports survivors, could a strong-knit social system provide a reliable deterrence policy and a level of accountability for to-be predators?

Social circles of young adults, where such cases are prevalent, are an apt place to test this system. It would go like this: person A has been sexually assaulted by person B. A goes to their friends or other members of their community, and the community decides not to be associated with/include B in gathering spaces (i.e. concert venues, parties, study groups, etc.). It takes more than those closest to A to make this work, as it is the concept of herd immunity, meaning the majority of people must be on board to ensure spaces will be safe.
This strategy, however controversial, works for two reasons: it prevents the predator from being in a space where sexual assault is more likely to occur, and it validates the survivor’s emotions. The majority of assaults are committed by someone close to the survivor. Perpetrators gain access to potential victims through social circumstances. If a rapist is part of the social group, and the community does not discuss what they have done, a potential victim could be keeping a perpetrator close without knowing it. In colleges particularly, people are be sexually assaulted at parties — so you see the urgency in employing such a method.

Social situations are of particular danger when you consider that half of all rapes that occur involve alcohol consumption, by the perpetrator, victim, or both. Women should be allowed to drink and be in social settings without fear of assault, but perpetrators often take advantage of situations in which inhibitions are low and reasoning compromised, not to mention drinks can be spiked with date rape drugs. So assuring predators are not included in such scenarios is vital.

Another reason why we have to exclude predators from our watering holes is more obvious: we have to validate the survivor’s claim.

To allow someone who has sexually assaulted someone else to remain in your life is to say that you do not believe that perpetrator is dangerous, and what’s worse, your social convenience is more important than a survivor’s experience. We also have to consider that when we permit alleged rapists to hang around, we create a triggering environment for their victims, which stands for more than just hurt feelings. 94% of women who have been raped reported symptoms of PTSD two weeks after the attack happened, and many survivors report symptoms similar to those of PTSD for the rest of their lives. Survivors are also 10 times more likely to abuse hard drugs than non-survivors. Therefore, not distancing oneself from rapists means that survivors have to limit where they go in order to avoid their assailant.

This behavior would be difficult for local or federal governments to regulate, because it is solely based on choices by the parties involved. There is no registry that marks alleged rapists, but rather it is based on information traveling by word of mouth and/or social media. And considering data on how many sexual assaults go unreported, this technique can serve as a form of grassroots justice.

Naysayers of combating abusers by social alienation say such a strategy is too radical. But is it not a natural instinct to distance oneself from someone or something that may harm you or those close to you?

However, this strategy does require survivors to essentially “out” themselves to at least a small number of people, and this can be traumatic. In a more perfect world, where this strategy includes always responding to complaints of sexual assault by “cutting off” perpetrators, we are still putting the burden on survivors to begin the process. We have to question if there are ways of exacting these tactics without putting more pressure on survivors.

As we continue to search for a holistic approach to the issue of sexual assault and how to deal with rapists, we must consider how we can hold perpetrators accountable in our own social groups. Of course, the simplest way to lower the number of sexual assaults is to teach consent at an early age, but until this discussion is widely implemented, and until we have a complete overhaul of the way our justice system deals with rape, we have to consider possibilities that may start with the people we choose to include in our lives.

All the Ways You Can/Cannot Contract HIV

There is a lot of stigma attached to HIV and the subsequent AIDS, most of which stems from false information.

HIV (human immunodeficiency virus) is a virus that attacks your immune system, which, over time can develop into AIDS (acquired immunodeficiency syndrome) which is a condition. HIV can be contracted if cum/pre-cum, rectal or vaginal fluid, blood, or breast milk that is carrying the virus comes into contact with damaged tissue or mucous membranes in your body. These membranes are found in the penis, vagina, rectum, and mouth. You cannot contract HIV through saliva or free-standing semen.

There are many misconceptions about how people contract HIV, so let’s settle this once and for all.

CAN:

Unprotected vaginal sex
Unprotected anal sex
Sharing/reusing syringes that have been exposed to HIV
During pregnancy, birth, and the breastfeeding period between mother and child

CANNOT:

Vaginal/anal sex with a condom
Vaginal/anal sex with a partner who is on PrEP
Vaginal/anal sex with an HIV positive partner whose viral load is undetectable
Kissing
Touching cum
Oral sex (while it is hypothetically possible to contract HIV from swallowing/your partner ejaculating in your mouth, the CDC asserts this is extremely rare, and there are very few such oral transmissions on record)
Groping
Food prepared/handled by an HIV positive person
Biting (unless severe trauma is inflicted to the skin tissue; again, there have been very few documented cases of this)
Receiving a tattoo or piercing (again, hypothetically possible, but there are NO reported cases of this kind of transmission)
Mosqutio bites

While the ways you cannot contract HIV outnumber the the ways you can, this list by no means seeks to downplay the seriousness of HIV/AIDS. While infection rates in the United States have drastically dropped since the worst years of the American outbreak in the 1980s and 90s, HIV/AIDS is still classified as a global pandemic. The history of the disease is expansive and complicated, fraught with governmental neglect of marginalized populations (one that continues today, through systemic restriction of proper health care and sexual education to minority populations). It is important when discussing HIV/AIDS, you’re sure you don’t contextualize the pandemic solely through a Western perspective. Data suggests 66% of new HIV infections in 2015 occurred in sub-Saharan Africa alone.

Due to advances in modern medicine, HIV/AIDS is no longer the death sentence it was thirty years ago. However, diligence and the practice of safe sexual methods is vital in ensuring the epidemic does not once again reach the disastrous proportions of the past.

Resources:

To find free, confidential testing locations near you, visit https://gettested.cdc.gov.

For information regarding PrEP, a preventative drug, talk to your doctor or visit https://www.cdc.gov/hiv/basics/prep.html.

A list of HIV/AIDS hotline numbers can be found at here.

Taboo-Free Vaginas

It’s an unspoken mantra that girls’ genitals are “dirty,” or that it’s wrong to look at or touch them. Isn’t that why our society puts millions of dollars into how your genitals should look? I remember, growing up in a Catholic community, that my schools separated puberty talk: there was no mention of masturbation and instead we just touched on periods. My 5th grade teacher was visibly uncomfortable, and in response, no one was able to take the initiative to ask any of the questions they were dying to have answered.

It’s hard for me to wrap my head around why vaginas have such a bad rap. In my opinion, they’re pretty freaking amazing. I mean, that’s where “most” new life enters the world from. People don’t like to talk about genitals because they are sexual organs, which makes people uncomfortable. However, just because they are sexual does not mean they should be sexualized. They are natural parts of the human body and everyone deserves the right to be educated on their body so they can make safer, informed choices on how to care for themselves. Did you know that our mouths tend to have more germs than our genitals? That urine is sterile? Oh, and that vaginas are self-cleaning?!

Vaginal discharge is the substance that comes out of the vagina and it’s a way for it to clean and regulate itself. Every person with a vagina experiences it — it’s a healthy part of the reproductive cycle. It’s so important to know that you do not need anything other than warm water to clean your vagina. No soaps, creams, washes, should ever be put up there. And do not douche! Discharge can look, feel, and smell different. Here’s a little break down:

Clear and thin – this is the discharge around ovulation and when you are aroused
White/yellowish and thick – this discharge occurs when you are less fertile during the month
Mild but not a strong odor
Slightly brown or red around your period (before or after)

If you notice a change in the color, smell, or consistency, you could have an infection. If it smells fishy, you could have bacterial vaginosis, if it’s very thick and your vagina feels irritated or itchy, you could have a yeast infection. It’s important that if you notice this, you visit an OB-GYN to get properly diagnosed and treated.

Don’t use panty liners or pads for discharge when you’re not on your period or spotting. They can cause infection by creating warmth and locking in moisture. You should try wearing THINX underwear because they absorb the moisture, not allowing for any unwanted bacteria build-up!

Some other fun tips on how to keep your vagina at optimal health? Wet bikinis and sweaty gym clothes should be changed ASAP and shower after working out! This will keep your vagina nice and dry. Also, taking probiotics regularly has been proven to help keep your vagina’s pH balanced and reduce yeast infection outbreaks.

Every person with a vagina, experiences discharge. So don’t feel gross or dirty for having it and NEVER let anyone make you feel that way. You should be a proud owner of a vagina! Your vagina is a self-working, self-cleaning machine. Not to mention, the clitoris is the only organ in the entire human body that’s sole purpose is pleasure. I put together a fun little list on why vaginas are so amazing and why you should also be proud if you have one!

IT GIVES LIFE.
Babies come out of vaginas! Sperm has to go through the vagina to even start the process of fertilization.
Vaginas are diverse, and with diversity comes beauty. Each and every vulva is unique. They come in different shapes, sizes, and colors!
It allows for many different kinds of orgasms: clitoral, vaginal, blended, G-spot, multiple, to name a few.
It’s self-cleaning!
Your vagina knows how to take care of itself.
Your vagina can communicate. Not literally, but your vagina will tell you if something’s wrong. It can do this through discharge, odor, swelling, or feeling.
It has the most feeling! Your clitoris contains over 8,000 nerve endings. This is more than any other part of the human body. And its sole purpose is pleasure!
Your vagina can expand. It can expand to more than twice its size when aroused, and that’s not even talking about childbirth!
It tells you when you can get pregnant! The cervical mucus changes during ovulation. Your discharge will be clear, rubbery and stretchy if you’re not on oral contraceptives. This is your body preparing for easier fertilization.

This post was created in a partnership with THINX, an innovative period solution company. You can read their periodical here.

Photos by: Samantha Casolari

Planned Parenthood 101

“Do you have a minute?” They ask. “Ummm…” I mutter, trying to come up with an excuse. And the person starts talking anyways. “If you have a second, I would really appreciate your signature, it’s for a great cause, Planned Parenthood.” I signed the paper, jumped in my car and sped away. This was my first interaction with PP and wouldn’t be my last.

It’s funny to think back to this moment, I was probably sixteen, didn’t know anything about it but still was compelled to sign that paper before speeding off to the mall or something. Even though I didn’t feel at that moment Planned Parenthood had any role in my life, it’s overall role in the lives of those around me would grow or at least I would grow to become more aware of it.

Everyone I know has some relationship with the provider. Whether you wear a pin on your backpack, you got your first packet of birth control from them without telling your parents, them popping up on your Twitter feed, or those very people in pink shirts rallying through your neighborhood in a protest, Planned Parenthood will show face. And I know what you might be thinking, just as I did once, what did I sign that day and why is it important?

What is Planned Parenthood?

Planned Parenthood is a healthcare provider. They deliver high quality, affordable health care for millions of people. They are also the nation’s largest provider of sex education. So basically, they’re made up of a bunch of clinics or health centers (more than 600 in the US) where you can go to get sexual and reproductive health care and info. This includes things like breast exams, cancer screenings, birth control, family planning, STI testing and treatment, and abortion services.

– Planned Parenthood helps prevent over 500,000 unintended pregnancies a year.
– They provide more than 295,000 Pap tests and more than 320,000 breast exams a year.
– They provide more than 4.2 million tests and treatments for STIs, including more than 650,000 HIV tests.

Why is it so controversial?

The main reason you’re seeing PP in the media so often is that our government wants to eliminate the group’s $555 million in federal funding as part of their recent bill to repeal Obamacare (It didn’t pass, but that doesn’t mean the fight is over). That is around 40% of the organization’s total revenue. The main argument from those trying to defund PP is on the basis that they provide abortion services. However, ZERO federal funding goes towards abortions. Instead, the organization uses private funding (private donors and foundations) for those services. Only 3% of Planned Parenthood services are abortion services.

What are the effects of budget cuts?
Planned Parenthood is very blunt about the consequences. “People will lose access and women will die,” said Executive Vice President Dawn Laguens. “Thousands of women have had their cancer and precancerous conditions discovered by Planned Parenthood. There are not enough places for women to go to get this care.”

It’s also important to mention that defunding Planned Parenthood will ruin hundreds of thousands if not millions of lives. It will leave these people without affordable healthcare. This is mostly an attack on poor women of color especially immigrant women who are dependent on PP because they are often excluded from Medicaid. This is not a war on Planned Parenthood, this is a war on women, people of color, transgendered persons, handicapped persons, and immigrants. This is a war on what is right vs wrong.

Here’s what could happen if we lost Planned Parenthood services
– Make it harder to prevent unintended pregnancy, harder to have a healthy pregnancy and harder to raise a family.
– Block millions of people from going to Planned Parenthood for care.
– Eliminate maternity coverage for millions of women, forcing them to pay large sums out of pocket.
– Fully take away health coverage for 22 million people.

How You Can Help:

Call Your Senators to Stand With Planned Parenthood
– Call: 202-224-3121 to be connected to your Senators and Representatives.
– Tell them that any bills introduced in the Senate and the House to repeal and replace the Affordable Care Act would result in millions of people their health insurance and care. And that access to affordable health care is a basic human right.
– Senators need to hear that we will not stand for this.

Write a letter to Congress.

Write a letter explaining above, there are many templates online already, print it out, stamp it and send.

Post and Hashtag.

While this might seem trivial or small–everyone on social media has the ability to reach another person and to lend support. When you post and #IStandwithPP, you are making a declaration that you in are in support of an organization that helps protect, save and cherish the lives of millions of people in this country a year. As you all know, your voice and platforms matters, we encourage you to speak up for those who can’t.

****Senators (and their staff) will notice when you tag them. And believe us, they’re listening.

Donations: You can make a donation to Planned Parenthood’s website.

Donate to support Health Centers: So that they can continue to deliver reproductive and sexual health care such as birth control, cancer screenings, and STI testing and treatment.

Donate to the Action Fund: This helps fight political attacks and strengthen advocacy.

Volunteer: Check their volunteer opportunities page or call your local health center.
For political activism, go to PPaction.org/volunteer to get involved with the Action Fund.
If you’re in college, join their Generation Action and become a leader.

Sign up for Emails & Texts

Join Planned Parenthood Action Fund’s email network. They will email you alerts and ways to get involved.
– For texts: Text “Stand with PP” to 22422.
– Standard data and text rates may apply. You can text STOP to quit at any time.

This piece was taken from the monthly column Safer Sex 101 with Eileen Kelly which exists on NastyGal.