I’m currently just trying to live life. You know all the regular things… drink water, eat fresh, twists my afro up at night, and determine what kinks and fetishes float my boat. This year I’m try to be the best me and as a grown woman I feel part of the best is determining where on the sexual kink spectrum I fall. What purpose is sex (sexual activities) if you are not doing the things your body and spirit want to do? I ended 2017 on a search. I searched for websites, groups of people, educational forums that meet locally, and in person clubs or facilities. I succeeded in finding page after page worth of information, I found awesome websites, and even connected with a few people. There was a slight gap in the information I found...the brown people were missing.
I am all for loving everyone. I love purple, black, pink, and orange equally. Though with intimate things and issues dealing with my comfort level I do feel more secure and open with people from my own culture. Sex and kink are some of the most intimate things that I could possible be delving into and to not see myself present in that realm kind of bothers me. When I needed to learn how to care for my natural hair I turned to my community, when I needed help with eating healthy I went to my community, but when finding out how to delve deeper into my sexuality I’m out here alone?
The mentality that black people have when it comes to sex and kink obviously has some historical and psychology based roots, but I can’t dim my sexual flamefor hangups others have. This month I will be attending a kink meet and greet, I will be attending a BDSM dungeon, a munch , and buying a few toys and books. I’ll be posting videos and pictures when I can to chronicle my journey. Wish me luck!
I am NOT your superwoman. I am NOT your superwoman. I am NOT your superwoman. The fact that I have to religiously chant this mantra to myself as much as I wipe my ass is an issue. I do not know how to date. I do not know how to treat a partner like a partner instead of a project, a child, a fucking dependant. At this point in my life I need a PARTNER. I need that grownup who is willing to discuss the unsexy details...the credit score, the retirement plan, our goals in helping our community, hell even our workout plan because this stomach ain’t cutting it. I do not need the one who is complaining because they can not quite obtain full time status at work, the one who does not even know how to check their credit score, the one who looks to me for every time they have to sign THEIR OWN name on something.
The dictionary defines a partner as: “a person who takes part in an undertaking with another and shares both the RISKS and the PROFITS. For a long time I entered into relationships where I was the DEPENDENT. My last girlfriend fed me, paid my cell phone bill, sometimes my rent, clothed me, she even had me attending her esthetician and replaced my whole face care regime. I was not the right fit for her. She was a loving giving woman and deserved someone who was closer to her station in life, not deserved it because money makes you more worthy, but deserved it because working hard and obtaining success should be rewarded with a partner to match that success instead of an “adult child” who adds to your workload. I had lover after lover who financially footed the bill for my life. Having experienced the receiving end of SuperWoman Syndrome for so long I felt as if I owed the universe something. I felt like these last few times that I needed to over do it, cover all bases, provide for all needs as some form of reciprocity for all that I had drained away from others. On a subconscious level I felt I was owned some type of energetic karmatic punishment for fronting as a partner with people I could never had been a true partner with at the time they were with me.
My last relationship lasted a little over a year. It oddly was damn near similar to one right prior to that one. I fell into the pattern of being a man’s EVERYTHING. A man should not need me to be his everything. These men did not need me to be their everything. These men did not ask me to be their everything. I volunteered those services. I volunteered extra work and stress unto myself. I can’t even blame the men. I take full responsible for it onto myself. Who would blame someone for accepting somebody’s offer to do the world for them? I was a maid, I learned to be a chef (well I learned how to make a few crock pot meal), I was an at home porn store, a mother, a financial advisor, a therapist...I was too fucking much. I was not a partner. I was on the giving end I was the one taking all the risk and hoping that there was going to be some huge payoff in the end.
The payoff never came. At the end of two years worth of relationships/situationships I was overworked and drained. I had done more at times for these men than I would do for myself. I was tired, I was empty, I was resentful. Tired and empty didn’t turn into bitter for me. I accept my place in everything that happens to me, I accept the parts that I caused, I accept what made me act a certain way, I accept what at one time made me think a certain way. I accepted it all, learned from it all, and am now trying to change these behaviors.
I will not be my partners sex slave- I don’t have to do any and everything I see on xporn to be deserved. I don’t have to go out or my moral or physical comfort zone for a partners pleasure.
I will not be my partners therapist- it is one thing for a person to explain to me an issue they are having. It’s another that after I offer the support or opinion I feel comfortable with they feel as if I am obligated to help them fix the issue. It’s not okay to have a serious mental or emotional health issue and put those burdens on my plate. I am an adult I have emotions I have to keep balanced. Insurance cover mental health visits and when you don’t have insurance there are low cost options...I’ve found them.
I will not be my partners bank- paying for alternating dates is okay with me. Treating you to gifts on my choice is okay with me. Going into my savings and my security net because you can not regularly meet your financial obligations is not okay with me.
I will not be my partners hotel- a partner will not use my home to escape their home whenever they choose. You will not leave your belongings in my home. You will not have a key to my home. You will not show up to my home unannounced.
I will not be my partners mother- I cannot and will not raise you. I can show you how I like and dislike being treated what you choose to adhere to is your choice. I cannot install morals, a backbone, patience, kindness, or any of the other things your parents forgot to do.
Musiq Soul Child said “I wouldn’t care if you were a prostitute and fucked every man that you ever knew” while he was awesome for feeling that way sadly very few other people roaming the earth share that sentiment. Me being able to say that I own and accept my sexuality and the past that it comes with is completely different from my partner owning the same said sexuality and it’s history.
For a year plus I was in a relationship with someone who saw every one of my past partners in bed with us whenever we were intimate. In arguments these partners were often used as ammo to cause me pain and to make emotionally abusive points. He loved everything that I had learned from those past partners because it made him feel good physically but emotionally he was torn. I was constantly asked about the size of his penis, whether I missed having sex with women, whether I was cheating, and a host of other questions. The questions were not nearly as bad as the comments. My fave was “Are you fucking my father!”... um that would be a no. (He gave me a crash course in the fact that abuse in a relationship is not limited to physical.)
When I first start dating I am open and honest about: who I am currently active with, sexual infection/disease history, and pretty much anything else that is asked. The only thing that I do not disclose is how many people I have had sex with. It is not so much that I am embarrassed and do not want to share the count, it is because I never kept or attempted to keep some running talley because I don’t care.
I am no longer interested in ANYONE who is hung up on my past sex instead of the current or future sex that he/she and I will be having. There is no magic “normal” number of partners that make you worth more or less than the next person. If they can not accept and love all of my fully then we are not compatible. If they can not respect and appreciate that I am transparent sexually and love getting tested with my partners to have the safest possible sex then we are not compatible. I love myself too much to allow someone else’s opinion of my bed history to determine how I feel about myself.
Acceptable Questions To Ask Me:
How many partners do you currently have?
Do you have any STD’s/ Have you ever had any STD’s?
When was the last time you were tested? Do you have the paperwork?
What things make you uncomfortable sexually?
This is probably assumed to be a weird topic coming from me. For those who know me personally and those who follow me online I definitely give off the air of being sexually confident..but that’s just an air. At 30 I need to step back and examine some of the choices I am making when dealing with my body. Some people shop, others have video games, some have food, some have the gym (hell that is the hobby my ass is trying to get into), but for me when boredom strikes I have orgasms. Sometimes given from my own hands, a toy, or other times from another’s various body parts. Either way they are given I know without a doubt that sex isn’t and shouldn’t be a cure all for my boredom.
A few months ago I had an um “eye opening” experience. Kim (owner of @vavavoomllc ) a good friend of mine and I decided to have a night out on the town and then splurge on a fancy hotel room since we hadn’t seen each other in almost a year. When I got into town I checked into the hotel room. I showered laid out my outfit to wear out with my friend and then I was BORED. So out of boredom I pulled out my phone and called this 40 year old guy who we will call “The Giant” who was gifted with the tongue of life and told him to come through. Within a half hour “The Giant” was there. Now to most this story doesn’t seem like it’s going in a bad direction but it definitely did.
"The Giant" walked into the room and immediately began questioning me about my personal life. Um… “nigga you know my pussy not me stop questioning me” is what my head was thinking but I knew if I answered as such the head would leave out the door with him. So instead I made up lies to whatever he asked. After 20 fucking questions was over he proceeded to get into my hotel room shower. FUCK NO!
1- you didn’t bring any towels or washcloths sir and those are for me and Kim
2- the ones I don’t use during my hotel room stay I steal and take home
3- a whole shower means you think your whole body is about to be in use. Bree is just here for the head!
I knew from the questions and the shower that I was not only going to get a nut but also a headache. When he got out the shower he didn’t even dry off all the way before he laid his damp jolly green 6’4 giant ass on the bed. But that’s okay because I had already stripped off the good linen and put that scratchy cheap fleece blanket over the bed that they keep in the closet for sofa bed usage. You weren’t going to sweat drool or get your man self over the sheets Kim and I had to sleep on later tonight.
He started to give me head. I laid back and relaxed. This nigga ate pussy like it was the last meal. He was showing my pussy and asshole equal attention like they were one in the same! Gosh if I only liked him as much as I liked what he could do. AND THEN he started fucking talking again… “whose pussy is it” nigga not yours “who eats the best pussy” um I can name a few people in a few other states that can contend with your oral game “you gonna squirt for me” um I might squirt and piss “you gonna take this dick” nigga you know I’m not. After literally 5mins I started to cum in his face (well his mouth to be more specific). He swallowed like a lost man in the desert finding a water bottle. I got to cum about 3 times before he stopped and I was drained. I thought we were done. I thought he would dry that dripping ass beard and leave me the hell alone.
Boy was I wrong. He crawls up to the side of my head and there’s this huge damn near footlong penis just chilling beside my face. I wish you could have seen how fast I got some energy. I hopped off that bed so quick! What the fuck was he thinking! I texted you and told you I needed head not dick! After I hop off the bed he goes into this long monologue “I mean every time I see you I do what you need blah blah blah my dick is hard blah blah blah I got condoms blah blah.” After 3 minutes of this I was irritated. Being the modern woman that I am I travel with my own condoms and lube. I squirted some lube in a condom slipped the condom on his dick and proceeded to jack this grown ass man off into a condom. Your sperm was not touching my fucking skin. He was highly offended and I highly didn’t fucking care.
After he had came and flushed his baby jelly filled condom down the toilet he wanted to talk some more. “Where are you going tonight?” “Can I come over later?” … to get him out the room I told him he could come back over after Kim and I had gone out. I did this fully well knowing that Kim and I were NOT having company in that room later. Long story short that baby lie I told ended up having this man
1- stalking our room at 2am sitting in the parking lot telling Kim and I via text that he saw us walking around the room naked.
2- calling and texting my cell phone back to back for 2 hours
3- calling the hotel room phone
4- banging on the hotel room door
5- having the front desk call upstairs to the room to let me know that I had a “guest” downstairs waiting
This was too fucking much over some head. I knew a change had to be made.
This story was the catalyst for my change. I had way too many similar stories of me wanting to cum and at the end me being left with my nut but also with aggravation. There were times when I fucked up my time because of sex, fucked up my emotions because of sex, fucked up other people’s emotions because of sex, fucked up my health because of sex (the Gonorrhea episode of 2010 shall not be forgotten), fucked up money because of sex, or just fucked up and gave the wrong person sex who didn’t deserve it. I needed a clean slate. I needed to give my heart, mind, and vagina a break.
I’m going to give December 1st my celibacy anniversary date. I’m going to mark that as the date I officially made a mental decision to step away from sex for a while to evaluate the reasons I have it and the consequences that come along with it. This is just part one sis (or bro I’m pretty sure there are some men reading this too) stick with me as I come to terms with what sex means to me, whether I’m okay with certain trade offs that sex comes with, what my terms of celibacy are, what hobbies and habits I’m picking up in order to not think of sex as much, the positive impact from my celibacy, and the struggle to keep true to my six month goal.
There isn’t shit you can tell me about myself or things I have done in the past that I don’t already know. Lovebug I fucking lived through it. The distances in which we as women will go through to drag another woman’s name in the mud via her past are disgusting at times. You can only fight the mud slinging with acceptance of everything you have done in your past. I accept EVERYTHING about me and I don’t look for your acceptance of the road I took to get to where I am.
I was a Hoe. (say it out loud, text it, fuck chant it in prayer and meditation iif need be lol) It’s not a hard phrase to put into words. I WAS A HOE. I wasn’t the stereotypical type that slept with a few boys in my highschool, maybe some in the college, and then a few at the job like most women. Nope...I was more so the type that slept with the gentlemen that didn’t mind getting a nice telly and paying a set hourly rate. For those of you who are a little slow...I mean I was the type of a hoe that could have paid taxes on her type of hoeing. It was a phase, I was emotionally damaged, and spiritually broken. I didn’t know myself and it offered closeness and money at the same time. While I don’t condone the field of work for anyone I understand now why I did what I did.
I don’t mind sharing that because I am a damn near 31 year old woman. I love myself. I love the journey I have made thus far and the journey that I am on. I understand that had I have not gone through what I did and made the choices that I did back then I wouldn’t have the compassion and understanding that I have now. Someone of you should make hiding your past a full time job with all the energy and time you put into it. It is harder to hide than it is to be open and accept it happened. The freedom you feel when you officially give up the fucks given about what people know about you is something you can’t explain.
I am loving because of my past…
I am compassionate and understanding of things outside of social norms because of my past…
I am an amazing understanding of relationships and keeping a mate happy because of my past…
I am less likely to judge and more likely to comfort another woman going through something sexually because of my past…
Hell I know how to please myself better than half yall out there because of my past…
I am strong because it takes strength to find the positives in the hurtful shit that you did and use them to your advantage to grow as a woman because of my past…
My past made me. I won’t hide it. I won’t apologize for it. I won’t let anyone make me feel guilty over it. I have a few younger women in my life that mean just as much as family does to me and they know pretty much everything about me. I let them know it all the good and the bad because I don’t want them to be tempted to relive some of the choices I made when I was younger when they can learn from my mistakes instead. Hiding from truths doesn’t benefit those that could be learning from you. Not benefiting and teaching those around you means you aren’t living up to your full potential. Not living to your full ability means you aren’t living your life fully because WE ARE HERE TO HELP OTHERS.
Submission: the action or fact of accepting or yielding to a superior force or to the will or authority of another person.
Subservient: prepared to obey others unquestioningly, less important
Submissive DOES NOT MEAN subservient. It amazes me how many pseudo internet feminist (#Iaintnofeminist) get their panties in a bunch up their asses over the word submissive. Submission means that I have seen how you lead and live your life. You lead and live by example, and the examples you set are positive and the life you live is fruitful. I have seen that by your past actions you have not only your interests at heart but ours as a unit also. You have given me no reason to believe that you will not protect me or that you would hurt me. So I will allow one of us to lead so that life will not come to a stand still every time we can not come to perfect agreement on something.
I date both men and women. In both types of relationships that I tend to become involved in I am submissive. I have to be aggressive with work and my spirit and energy needs a break or a cool down period in my personal life. I need to be able to relax and use my goddess energy in a non-bossy manner so to speak. Now that I am 28 I am looking for a long term partner, a partner who I am willing to make important decisions with. So when I date I have to look for people who: I admire their strength, I feel are intelligent, giving, who show concern for my thoughts and opinions, and have some of the same basic moral guidelines as I have. I date with the intention on hopefully growing to become more than dating. I don’t mindlessly date any longer. So the people I date I have to make sure that from the dates and spending time with them I see traits that I would not mind submitting to were we to build a relationship.
I can’t build with a selfish person. I can’t build with a person who every time they see a child acting out their response is that child needs his or her ass beat. I can’t build with a person who is in a financial rut isn’t trying to build their credit and doesn’t know how to save money. I can’t build with a person who isn’t a communicator and compromiser because these aren’t traits I welcome in my life. I have to build with someone I can see as a leader, provider, and protector. Life has submission, Look at packs of lions, look at ants, look at the government. Submission and order comes into play in so many aspects of life.
Subservient means that I don’t have an opinion or thought process of my own that I feel is important. It means I will blindly and unquestioningly follow you for whatever reason. Being subservient is dangerous, at times can lead to abuse, and you damn near might as well be a slave at the end of the day.
At the end of the day everyone has to live with a dynamic that makes them happy. Hell maybe there are some relationships that are run sucessfully like a democracy. (shrug) Confuses me as to how one holds a vote when there is only two people involved but if you like it I love it. I want to be a mother, a nurturer, a wife. I want a provider, a protector, a leader, someone of strength by my side. As a gift for doing the things my spirit craves and giving my the balance my energy needs I am willing to give my submission… my SUPPORT.
Submission I promise is why some of the Hoes of the world be out here winning. They know how to give it. They know how to make a royal feel like a leader and provider. They make royals feel happy to give and provide. So while some of ya’ll out here quoting Eartha Kitt no compromising ass I’m going to be at home learning the appropriate oils to mix for my future royals skin and hair, learning how to cook some things, and laughing at the fact that some of you women hold tighter to Neyo’s “Miss Independent” lyrics that you do a healthy relationship and the chance at happiness. #countryraised #mycousinsandIwilltakeyourdamnmanandkeephim #Iwearcrownregardless #submission #submissive
A Letter To My Kings
I value and appreciate you for who you are. I love you and I will always need you. There isn’t anyone who can replace you. I would not exist without you, my future children will you need you.
There are times when I cry because I do not understand the pain that you go through or the fear that you feel, or maybe it’s because I feel like you do not understand the pain that I go through or the fear that I feel. In the middle of the frustration I mistake you acting out of pain and fear as you not caring.
I am a 28 year old black woman. I fear being mediocre. I fear not accomplishing my purpose. I fear getting tired or losing hope and vision before I accomplish my purpose. I fear being at the wrong place at the wrong time with an angry cop. I fear being judged for being too black, not black enough, too young, too old, too fat, to fucking female, hell not female enough.
So many of the fears that I have are mine alone and you can’t help with them. But I have pains and fears that you can help with. It pains me to know that some of you don’t value my intelligence and the strides I make in business and myself to further our family and culture. It pains me that some of you have made poor decisions in the past in choosing who you shared your seed with and now when you are at your greatest and should be growing our community you are scared. It pains me that you don’t realize that just because I am not your “Cut buddy”, your “boo thang”, your “wifey” that you feel I am not worthy or in need or your help and support. It pains me that some of you do not want to commit. It pains me that when my sisters and I share these fears and concerns you down play our hurt...
In the middle of being upset for days straight I had the above conversation with kings in my life. Because I was so caught up in my pain and opinions I didn’t really go about the conversations the right way. I forgot that hurt people hurt people and in this situation I was hurting and extending my hurt to an already hurt group of people. I forgot that YOU are my KINGS and I am your Queen no matter how hurt I am. And that unless we heal each other nothing but hurt is going to come from us.
I forgot that these same hurt Kings that I was hurting with my words and my thoughtlessly given opinions were the same kings that: take photos for free for me EVERY time I ask, that shoot and edit videos for me and my sisters without payment, that do all the lifting and grunt work around my house because my ass clearly isn’t going to do it, the same kings that text and call to make sure me and the other women get in safe, the same kings that offer to take 1 or 2 of us out to eat at once sometimes at their expense, the ones that offer endless advice and help. The same Kings that give so much of their energy to us sometimes with nothing in exchange. I love you all more than some of you know even though at times I am so caught up in self that I don’t say it or show it. I know your worth and have a need for you that will never end.
I know that the pain you feel is real and has validity. I know that so many messages tell you that you are not worthy of love and that you are not going to amount to anything. Never is it my place, my right, or my want to add to those negative messages. I am apart of your support system. I am sorry.
We have too much as a community that we do not discuss. We have too much that we don’t share and keep bottled up until we are angry. When it’s shared it comes out as anger and not love. We can’t afford that. I don’t know the answer to fix all the issues we have, but I know ignoring and pretending they don’t exist isn’t it. I love you so much. I want so much from you… but there’s so much I want to share with you also.
Your Sister ... Your Queen... Your Supporter