I thought I’d tell you something a bit less romanticised this time. Don’t get me wrong, I love transforming my life into a book, I do it constantly in my head and you get like a 4% (random estimation) of that fictionalised mess. But when your friends are busy (aka you’re too scared to ask for help) and you can’t, you just cannot have another break down right now when you feel so positive and full of energy but also tired and lonely and something is still bothering you, you write a journal, or better, you write a public journal. Worst case scenario you get criticised by people that have their life so together it’s boring to the point of reading your pathetic journal, or you get wonderful messages of support and understanding and so far I must say it’s been the 99% (correct estimation) of the cases.
Do you remember this post? Right. I call it the breakdown-with-class-journal-entry. It’s when I have the absolute meltdown and the only thing that keeps me together is a sequence of words that form sentences of encouragement for myself, and by the end of the story I come up with some sort of hope. I thought I had it together by the end of that entry but a few days later I’ve got an email from one of my dearest friends and I was not even half way into the message when I burst into tears because it looked like he was able to spot what the real problem behind my eczema was. Of course it’s mostly triggered by stress, and admitting that to myself, acknowledging that the problem is there to begin with was a big step forward but I was far away from solving anything because I didn’t exactly know what caused the stress to begin with.
My friend pointed out few things, with a lot of tact and making sure he wasn’t telling me I was doing something wrong but he still expressed his concern on my work in the sex world. I am a sex worker and I do many different things from a creative perspective and being a full time artist means occasionally struggling for money but making sure that when you have a big chunk of money coming in, you are not throwing your ethics out of the window and you still know who you are and that you are doing something you really want to do. It’s a constant battle. I did many things to survive and though I was ok with the concept of some of them, I did lose bits of myself on the way and started to feel empty. D pointed out that maybe slowing down and considering my choices a little bit better could help me, so I would not have to give up the position I’ve been fighting for as long as I can remember but I would be under less pressure.
I didn’t realise how isolated I feel most of the time because the only support I have is Hoss and the sex positive community, so when Hoss is struggling on his own because his work is the flip side of the same coin, and when I don’t feel like sharing such intimate thoughts with my community, I am on my own. And it’s not even the worse part! The absolute horrifying feeling of isolation comes when I step out of my sex positive bubble of kinky, non-monogamous and creative people and I find a post apocalyptic world of shame and repression our society wants us to live in. The amount of pain I went through in the past year is so huge and sticky, no wonder I am traumatised, sleep deprived, terrified, sad or apathetic when the weight is just unbearable. I had friends judge me, the kind of people that say “I don’t judge BUT...”; I had friends ignore my concerns without making an effort in understanding why I’ve chosen the path I am walking only because they think I am after “easy” money. I am not creating sexual content because I’d rather do this instead of serving coffee or selling bags, I’ve chosen art over hard working comfort because I love sex, I am highly sexual and I know that erotica will save the world one fuck at a time.
I don’t need pity, I want and demand acknowledgment because my job is a real “fucking” (tee-hee) job and I won’t shut up as someone suggested many months ago when I’ve decided it was going to become my full time job; I will become louder and the more uncomfortable the society will get with me allowing myself to be loud during sex so I don’t bother my neighbours, the more change will happen. And change is the only thing that pushes humanity to evolve, and the more uncomfortable the better, the thirstier the hungrier the angrier the better because that’s what stimulates our species to do things we can’t explain but can only feel.
I am tired of the stigma weighting on my freedom. I won’t tolerate people telling me I don’t have to constantly express myself about what I do, I won’t tolerate people brush me off because we haven’t invented the right terminology to talk about non-binary and queer human beings... and I had that fucked up behaviour thrown at me from someone who was meant to protect me in the “ethical” adult industry. I won’t go quieter when talking about PLEASURE, VAGINAS, VULVAS, PENISES, DICKS, PUSSIES, NIPPLES, TONGUES, FUCKING, LICKING, THREESOMES, ORGIES, SEX PARTIES, BDSM, PLEASURE, PLEASURE, PLEASURE.
Sex is not only beautiful but it’s also... normal. I want to normalise sex work and erotic art, so that the intensity of it would be defined only by how much passion one channels into a conversation, so that it’s not taboo but it can be private. I want to be able to talk about my work, and my art and what I love doing, so that it wouldn’t sound different from a painter talking about his subjects, or a thriller writer, or a shop assistant enjoying their career, or a chef explaining her choice in the combination of ingredients.
The issue is not in my work per se but in how sex is perceived altogether. Next time your neighbours are fucking too loud behind the wall, ask yourself if you are annoyed because you’d rather be fucking yourself or if you just need silence in that particular moment, and if it’s different from when someone is talking loud or practising piano; why are you so tolerant with way more annoying noises than people having pleasure? When I hear humans enjoying themselves (especially when they own it and sound so genuine in their pleasure), I feel activated and alive, I am happy for them and if I am not already, I wish I was doing just as great. And if I am annoyed, I check if I masturbated that day, or if it’s maybe time to buy those sound isolating headphones.
I am not saying you have to be like me, we all express freedom in different ways, I am asking you to gain some more perspective and be less judgemental and listen more and talk less because, and I promise you that, if you allow yourself to just let go and absorb the good in the world, your life will improve drastically and you will see me for what I really am... not some avant-garde sexual alien, but a gender neutral human being that enjoys sex to the point it cannot be contained anymore so it becomes art, or just a creative job.
I am a human, just like you.
