I AM...

I am whatever YOU think I am until YOU get to KNOW me. This is true for everyone else too, of course.. so don't make assumptions about anyone or pass judgment; ask questions. You might just make a new friend.


Wednesday, July 30, 2014


I received a text from an ex-lover yesterday. It read, “I miss the way you taste.” I appreciated being missed, especially in the way he did, especially in this technology-ridden world. He could have easily had just checked my Twitter to see what I was thinking or my Instagram to see how I was looking, but no, he missed the way I tasted. There’s not an app for that, you’d have to be in my presence to re-experience that particular facet of me. You’d have to sauté my passion, chop up all of my inhibitions, and heat me up in order to taste me, again.

My mind began to stir and made a stew of all the fruitful adventures I had been through with him. I thought about how he explored me with both hands. I remembered how he bit my lips and choked me, as if to try to kill me in order to remind me that I was alive. I reminisced on how he would fill me up, whisper in my ears, and turn my body into a percussive instrument that played songs of love, power, and more, and ad-libs of, “Oh, God.” He turned my bedroom into a piece of art, but the experience felt like a gospel song, our sweat was holy water, I was sure. Soon, he’d release, and I’d release, and I think we astral projected, and then I’d sit and wonder. He held me, and I wondered some more.

I questioned, “Who the fuck came up with the ideas of what a bottom is and should be?” A strange thing to think about, but it’s always something I think about after fantastic sex. I wonder why is being the receiver in sex indicative to someone’s personality. I’d think that you would bottom in the bedroom because it feels good. Just like how I don’t think I have the answers to someone’s personality because they love chocolate, it’s simply not enough to go by. I don’t know everything about you because of what you like to taste. However, preferred (sometimes, not even confirmed) sexual positions in this queer black culture seem to be the ultimate deciding factor of who you are and can be. I would say that I find it strange or problematic, but that would almost be a lie. I mostly find it extremely silly.

I find it the silliest when I think of how good it feels and when I think of the pleasure it brings. It’s silly because outside of the arena of sex, I am powerful, expressive, assertive, confident, and independent. My ‘femmeness’ or my ‘bottomness’ doesn’t make me any weaker. Actually, I’ve found the most strength and power through my femininity and expressing my sexuality. I don’t understand how bedroom decisions turn someone into a 1950s archetype for the perfect submissive, passive housewife. I don’t understand how the expression of sexuality does anything, but empower.

Alas, I’ve found in this queer black community that preferred sexual positions actually decide on things way beyond sexuality or preference.  More than anything, I find it lazy. You decide you know someone simply because of what you infer from their preferred sexual position. Again, I could call this thought process a lot of things, but the only thing that truly seems appropriate to call it is lazy and extremely silly. I know logically, it is rooted in misogyny and anything being woman is seen as weaker, despite women being what gives birth to us all, which makes being anything close to women more God-like (or stronger) than anything else, but who’s here to make sense?  It’s certainly not those that have fetishes for the masculine, and scrutinize the feminine. Even me, I’m not here to change minds. I simply want to participate in sex and sexual expression without people thinking they know who I am because of things they put together about what I do in the bedroom. The things I do in the bedroom aren’t rooted in anything other than pleasure.

I look at the text message that is from an ex-lover that reads, “I miss the way you taste.” I ignore it because outside of the bedroom, he’s still an asshole. I ignore it because outside and inside of the bedroom, I’m running shit.