This post is for grown ups. I make no apologies.
This is a part of an essay I submitted to a proposed book about black women and their sexuality, about how we deal with and/or break free of labels.
Last night I dreamed I decolonized my thighs.
I dreamed I had an hour long orgasm.
I dreamed I was being had from behind by someone I did not care to see.
I walked up to delicious strangers on the street and admitted that I would love to lick them from head to toe.
I pleasured myself with my hands, my toys, my lover and then borrowed your hands, fist, your toys, your lover, you
…I moved on in this fashion until I was quite satisfied!
Unfortunately morning came before I really tested my limits. I awakened with a satisfied smile.
Now, reading this to myself in the daylight, I blush. I surprise myself. I am still surprised by my brashness. I wish I were bolder, but I dare only express these things, bit by juicy bit to a lover. I reveal things slowly, as if each revelation were new, and not fantasies I have dreamed of a million times. It would take me a while, and even so, I'd blush when admitting my desires.
It is not very often that I have made love to someone soon after meeting them. There have been times when I have met someone and instantly thought that our bodies would fit together wonderfully. In the cases where we did make love later, I have always been proven to be correct and we were great together. I have learned to trust that my instincts are fantastic. It's important that I validate those instincts. It used to be that I did not trust myself.
It used to be that I carried shame like it was a prize. As an incest survivor, I realize that I own no shame. It took a long time before I came to the realization that I could not afford to hold onto what other people thought about me. It took even longer to realize that I am not responsible for the decisions of others. I have had to realize that there is nothing more crippling than living half a life, afraid of rejection. I decided to live without the labels others would assign. I take what I want, and I leave what I want. I learned self-acceptance, and learned to love me.
I found myself struggling to fight the Jezebel image, even though most would probably figure me for the Aunt Jemima role. I found I suppressed my desires. Even in my own home, in my own bed, in the dark, with the beautiful women who have loved me. I would backpedal. It would take forever to admit a desire, a fantasy. I was ashamed. Some days I wanted to be Jezebel. I wanted to be brazen, a temptress. I wanted to be easy, and not care. I didn't want to feel horrible whenever I strayed from the missionary position. I clung to the image of a good girl. I was afraid I would scare a lover away. But, I had to think about it , if a lover knocks my socks off it meant she had studied the fine art of lovemaking. She had learned and explored. I don't judge others harshly for that . As a matter of fact, I was very grateful to have found it. So why should I see myself differently. I did not judge others the way I judged myself. I did not think of other women as harshly as I saw myself. I often looked at others with an admiration, and respect for having the courage to be themselves. Slowly, I began to unravel the source of my shame.
And now? Well, now, I am looking for someone with whom I feel safe and secure. Someone with whom I can let down my hair, so that I can explore until we both collapse, sleep, awaken, and then explore more and more and more...