My Very First Booth!

On Sunday, May 28, 2023, I successfully handled my own booth at a sex worker's only event in Oakland, CA called Whores Bath. Massages, nail technicians, saunas, body regulation, and food, all free to sex workers and I offered to volunteer to get some practice and feedback. I got some feedback, alright, and most of them were good, but there were 2 that stood out.

My hours were from 2:45-4:45pm, but I am notorious for going to events. I am notorious for showing up at least 2 hours early because I want to know the accessibility and general layout of the event space. I drove myself and a fellow sex worker friend to Oakland, got lost, got to the venue and ate some food. I even managed to get free Plan B, or Levonorgestrel (the morning after pill that approximately costs $40-$50), which was already worth the trip for me and an indicator of the community care present. Unfortunately and fortunately, I was fully booked and did not get a chance to seek other volunteers' services.

I set up my booth and had a packed schedule. Some finished early, allowing passersby to take a peek and give them a welcoming smile. Many approached, which added to the additional hour, thus my volunteering ended around 5:30pm. My last session was my favorite because they ended up crying and it felt like a breakthrough for each of us; they came to the conclusion that they needed to end things with a partner they no longer had feelings for. I asked if they wanted me to hold their hand because it was a difficult topic and I literally felt touched and connected with this client.

This event made me realize that I cannot help everybody and that's okay. It was my second to last client (keep in mind that I was not expecting to have 2 additional clients) and reflecting back on it now, they needed therapy, not coaching. At my booth, I had a QR code which goes to a survey/questionnaire on identities, demographics, and feedback, along with my social media accounts right next to an "about me" section. I received some pretty gnarly feedback through email and responded hours later after processing. They told me I was "whoring" myself out because I had my donation links taped down on a table, along with an about me and my services. I'm very direct with my clients and they seemed to be under some substance(s) because their demeanor was very slow, closed eyes, and slurring. I knew that people were using substances because it's part of the sex work culture; almost everyone was knowledgeable about Narcan and harm reduction. I did not point it out, but they did apologize for using the word "whore." I responded, apologized and said that we weren't a good match for each other and that's okay! This was the first time I said, "okay, I cannot help everybody." Additionally, another client, potentially a client I started because a session was cut short, told me I was, "the last sound 16 and lacks maturity for this work. Also she sounds square and unworldly." I giggled because my 16-year-gap older brother gets mistaken for my age, 28, very often; people often think we're a couple when we're out together. I know that the square and unworldly comments are untrue because I try my best to be better everyday. If that makes me a square, then so be it. I cannot change the minds of others and I can only improve from here. I have many plans this upcoming pride month and I cannot wait to share my adventures!

My Personal Journey To Squirting

Everyone with a Skene's and Bartholin's gland can squirt! I never thought I personally could, but it started out with a little bit of amrita, or the nectar of the gods. Squirt isn't pee and I'm going to tell you my journey throughout the years of my experience; doing 50 kegels everyday for 30 days. Sounds easy, but I'm on day 7 and I'm already seeing big changes. To do a proper kegel, one must activate their abdominal muscles and "lift" their bladder and cervix, upward. You're not doing a proper kegel unless you feel it in your abs! I'm determined to have strong kegels so I can learn how to control my squirting.

The first time I was aware I squirted was late 2021. I thought I'd piss myself, but no, it was amrita. I never really pursued squirting before because I tend to be adverse to liquids on my bed. I've bought disposable medical pads to prevent getting amrita on my bed. I've tried squirting in the shower, but standing up while accessing my G-spot was too difficult and I am a fall risk when I'm in the shower (especially when my legs shake). I haven't slipped in the shower and I have no intentions of doing so in the future.

From the image, you can actually see the G-spot externally, or from the outside. Patience is necessary for squirting because it's like an Olympic sport. The G-spot, or Grafenberg spot (just say G-spot, we don't need to associate our vaginas to these outdated white men's names) is a sponge-like texture which can be stimulated externally or internally. Most of the time it is stimulated internally during sex, however, mastering squirting through solo play will make it easier to squirt with a partner.

Vibrate, not penetrate! Penis owners shouldn't ram their cocks in a pussy and expect them to squirt right away. It takes time and a technique that requires a bit more finesse for beginners. Instead of doing this, vibrate, even with your penis. First, ask them where around the G-spot, or explore together, where it is most sensitive. If they find the spot, stay there and simulate either with fingers, an insertable [preferably curved glass or medical grade steel] dildo, or a penis. This is why being pleasure-oriented is better than orgasm-oriented. Orgasm isn't the goal of sex, but pleasure is.

Remember, every body is different and one must know their own pleasure points first before tackling a squirting orgasm. Be sure to communicate with your partner about your body and what you like. If you have tried all of this and still no squirt, perhaps speak to a doctor. Cysts can occur in the Skene's and Bartholin's gland and should be referred to a professional. Amrita is literally a gift from whatever God you believe in. Embrace pleasure.

Happy squirting and masturbation month!

Why Don't We See Pregnant Disabled People?

I hope you all realize how passionate I am about disabled representation. Have you ever seen a pregnant person in a wheelchair? Maybe a birth results in a permanent disability, do we neglect the person who gave birth with these new disabilities? Did you know that maternal mortality is very common in populated and underserved communities? "Among these [pregnancy-related deaths], 84% were determined to be preventable." Eighty-four percent. If those are deaths, how many are left disabled and alone? I will focus on physical disability because the topic involves the most naturally taxing experience on the human body.

According to current research, "disability does not necessarily have a negative effect on parenting." The fact that people think that there aren't successful parents with physical disabilities is so disheartening. I went on TikTok and searched, "disabled parents," and I was sadly seeing this as their top post. The first two posts are two different white teens complaining about being more the parent than the child. Out of the first 5 posts, only one was educational and portrayed gadgets that assisted them in the kitchen. The rest were either complaining about having disabled parents or inspiration porn. This post by TikToker, @reidsrumour, is the only post I felt seen and heard.

Pregnant people are actively becoming disabled every day. I will not talk about post-partum because that's a completely different experience than becoming physically disabled. It'll be for another blog some other day. Birthers are still actively dying in this country because of their lack of resources, especially if you're not in a location where birthing services are offered. I have seen a shift in hiring more birth doulas for at-home births, including post-partum care. When you're giving birth at the hospital, the doctors primarily focus on the infant once removed from the womb. FACT: my healthiest brother was an at-home birth. The "team" should be skilled at the signs of the birther’s stress. The saying, "it takes a village," is taken way more seriously when giving birth. I may be biased because I've seen a lot of successful births for queer, POC parents and they have often used a doula. I am also friends with doulas and expect myself to eventually refer to them to clients one day.

For the best country in the world, we're neglecting a big portion of our population, but isn't that the most American thing? Abandonment, biases, struggle, stress, hustle culture, and independent living. This entire country is disabled because the whole country is neglectful! Even the white, rich, and privileged are taken a step down because, if you're pregnant, you can go to the best doctors and still end up disabled. Disability and pregnancy are not mutually exclusive terms; they are related and intertwined. I want to make it my job as a sex coach to help this population as much as I can.

Disabling Depression

I've been disabled longer than I thought because mental health disabilities exist as invisible disabilities. I take meds for depression, anxiety, and PMDD. I am never not in pain and I live in a very expensive city, in which I don't ever intend to leave. When I first became disabled, my "friends" stopped inviting me to things, outdoor events, and if they did invite me, they didn't think about my disabilities. This was mostly people I talked to in college and have completely cut them out of my life. I do have my disability to thank for showing me who my true family is. Now if only others were the same. 

I've been publicly called a cripple, and even almost getting hit by a car on my own fucking street. "Move faster," *insert car honks of all variety,* and my personal favorite, "what's wrong with you?!" What's wrong with you that you're literally yelling at a stranger trying to cross her own street because the Lyft driver arrived at my one-way street house? It's also 2am on a Thursday! What happened to you? There will always be people out there who are and will always have the container for toxicity. I know what happened to me, my disability, my traumas and I chose to be a better person because of it. And I'm still fucking here; being myself as loud as I can. 

I've tried to work a 40-hour work week while disabled, but couldn't do it. I've also tried a 30-hour work week, but it was so much more physically taxing that I had to quit. Additionally, navigating employment while disabled is truly an Amerikkkan nightmare. The marginalized suffer while the government and money control our class and are meant to divide us. I know many people who have lost family because of Covid. Disabled people are dying and no one cares, even before Covid. 

I'm almost 30 and I see the lives of my able-bodied peers and think, "what's the point of all this if I can't even get a job? Not even my dream job, just a job where I can make money and use that money for leisure and assisting others?" Then the suicidal ideations builds and the more exacerbated my imposter syndrome becomes. Is it still imposter syndrome or are there too many barriers to living a happy, healthy life? I know life can be so devastating and as I age, this world ages with me in polluted time. The constant stress of survival is getting too much.

My Past Fears of Being Touched

I love to be touched and often forget how much I feared it when I was younger. My aversion to human touch, whether it be family or strangers, my body would tense up and freeze. A slow income away from the touch feeling, in hindsight, gave me chills and made my blood run cold. I never realized how much I've grown and healed from physical touch and the lack of mother's milk is a definite testament to our relationship. My mother was 46 when she had me. Her milk ducts were no longer producing milk, perhaps a lack of prolactin production due to age, the bitch was dry, okay? I theorize that this, including my continued failed relationship with my mother, repressed sexual trauma and desires, and a lack of socializing all led me to be adverse to touch; they're all connected too! 

I was so averse to touch that I would sit very still in my house, afraid that I would get "dirty." My kid brain associated touch with germs. I would literally dodge hugs when I was a preteen and I was so closed off. I never realized the issue until my brain could fully understand the situation. So I did my best to fix it. After my disability, I knew I wasn't going to live forever and after many visits to various hospitals, a place I feared the most because of germs, I got over it. It literally took me becoming disabled to get over my hurdles of fear. Day after day of being admitted to a new hospital after almost 2 years, once even in a different country, I literally became desensitized to "germs." 

My relationship to touch is so much better now and I have to thank the BDSM community for it. I like to be spanked, manhandled (all genders included), spat on, and my fear of being touched eventually went away. Of course, consent is still a big factor for me, but my life has been filled with both bad and good touches that I truly do not care anymore. Life is too short to not touch or to be touched.

The Last of Us: Part 1 from a Trauma Perspective

SPOILERS ahead for TLOU game and show!!!

On Sunday, March 12, 2023, The Last of Us season 1 finale aired on HBO. The episode starts off with the origin story of Ellie's entrance into a broken world. They gave Ellie's mother, Anna played by Ashley Johnson (the original voice actor for Ellie), a background sorry. However, I want to focus on this post on The Last of Us in a Trauma lens.

After the opening credits, we see a traumatized, and perhaps a dissociated Ellie. A line that really resonates with me said by Ellie after the rooftop scene with Joel, "after everything I've been through. Everything I've done. It can't be for nothing," after Joel tries to tell her they could walk away. In the previous episode, Ellie was sexually traumatized by David and we see the effects through, what I interpreted as, dissociation. This is a very common trauma response for someone who has experienced what Ellie experienced.

Then we learn that Joel's scar is from a suicide attempt. Opening up to Ellie about his daughter's death affected him and we learn that he tried to kill himself the day his daughter died. These two are trauma-bonding, but it's really the only way to connect with people because they are not given a choice. The show sets in an infected "zombie" apocalypse after 20 years of living in this brutal world. The season finale, particularly the multiple ways of interpreting Joel's answer to the tough question about Joel being honest, "okay."

Trauma is essential in this show. The trauma response was present since the first episode. Trauma, to me, is not what defines you, but what you do with it after. Joel lies, Ellie accepts the lie, whether we think she is telling the truth or not. This perfectly sets up season 2 and I'll end the spoilers here, similarly with the game, leaving you with a cliffhanger. I might be one of the few people who absolutely adored the sequel more than the original. Hot takes, but we’ll have to wait about part 2! Play or watch the game. I personally watched theRadBrad’s playthrough because he doesn’t talk during cut scenes!

It was a simple writing prompt…

PROMPT: You can write your life story as a person, as a professional, or as a sexual being. Describe your hopes, dreams, goals, wishes and vision for a future as you review your own past. Notice the wins and losses; what made you who you are today? Imagine this is what you ask of your own clients before you work begins. How does doing this exercise help you become a better coach?

Use this space to write your own life story. TW: RAPE/SA/MOLESTATION

My first memory is of one of my older brothers molesting me. I always lied, telling a bullshit story about how my father and I were looking at stars on our Filipino house’s porch that he would usually clean with a walis ting-ting. It didn't really register in my head until my first (and only [hopefully]) rape around the time of Kobe Bryant's death. I was so angry when he died and I didn't know why. Then it clicked; when I was in middle school, it was around the time his trials for rape/sexual misdemeanors came about. I went through the 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and after 3 years, acceptance. The brutal part was depression because it hit me like a fucking train. I was 5150’ed twice in one year, isolated myself from my family, made horrible decisions, and all of that happened during the height of the pandemic. However, I’m not here to tell you how my rape initially happened, I knew something was wrong because I was taking a trauma response and recovery certification at the time; my body was sitting the trauma. 

In 2019, I went on a trip to Yosemite with my cousins visiting from the UK; this included my molester (I will be calling him my molester because no brother molests their own sibling), his wife and two kids, my cousins, and my molester and mines' 2 older brothers, and one of them brought my precious niece. I want to stay alive because of her. I am alive because of her; I want to protect her from the evils of this world and I want her to be happily safe. Everyone, except my cousins and niblings knew what happened and they didn't want to take a side. All the adults drank alcohol, which ended up with me crying and my molester trying to console me by giving me a hug to which I angrily responded with, "don't touch me!" I’ve lost allies both on my mother’s and father’s side and I really only have the brother that I live with.

I couldn't take the pain anymore so I exposed my molester online. I wanted to protect the little girls in my family and spoke my truth on Facebook; I made an honest recollected post of that horrendous day. My molester threatened to sue me for defamation so I was forced to take the post down, but most of them don't know I have a YouTube channel and other social medias. I posted a video on Youtube and I got so much praise for speaking up and that's when I knew I wanted to be an advocate and storyteller activist for ST (sexual trauma). I even wrote an affidavit to someone from the San Francisco Unified School District because she had found my tweets of the time I was raped by a trusted partner, again, before the pandemic; he was a substitute teacher. I have no idea how she found me, but it was a good thing. When I speak about my rapist to those familiar to the comedy scene in SF, they respond negatively about him. 

I really needed to write this out because it has been on my mind as of late because of this time of the year. I tried to kill myself because of all the sexual trauma, lack of family support and belief, and feeling hopeless due to not having money and/because of disability. It was my most mentally anguishing time, but I came out stronger and better. I don't want my niblings to experience what I've experienced which is why I'm in this line of work. Education, storytelling, coaching, and practicing healthy boundaries has helped me heal so much; I want to use my experiences as a way to end generational, intergenerational, and general trauma. Overall, making people see that their [in]actions have consequences and/or rewards and benefits to themselves and/or others. 

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How timely…

It has also officially been a year since the war between Russia and Ukraine.

My YouTube Presence and Thoughts on YouTube in General

I went to Vidcon twice and for those who are cool, Vidcon is a convention started by the Green Brothers. I have attended twice during peak YouTube, before the scandals, back when Chocolate Rain through collaborations and challenges. Oh boy, cringe. Back when everyone was still in the queer closet and over-the-top fans making parasocial fanfics. Most of it was bad, but oh did we rise from our gay ancestors; Eugene Lee Yang, Daniel Howell, MacDoesIt, Ingrid Nilsen, and Alayna Joy. However, I loved my content because I never did it for anyone; most of it was for my joy. 

My absolute favorite parts are the writing and the improvised jokes. I literally have a two full 2TB external hard drives with all my videos, including essays, papers, and projects that I did in college. Finally enough, most of my creative projects were video-based. I once improvised an entire 10- minute presentation about some unimportant elective class while my classmates just stood in silence, jokes were of course included. BIG TIP FOR THOSE WHO GET NERVOUS DURING PRESENTATIONS: go first because most of your classmates are also nervous, less likely to pay attention to you. It's also okay to be embarrassed. Get humbled haha. 

At the heart of it all, I'm a performer. I'm originally a singer because I sang before I could talk. My family hates Disney's Alice in Wonderland and The Little Mermaid because I played those 2 VHSs out. So let me perform and inform you that I am coming back to my YouTube channel because I want to get back into digital art, while maintaining my traditional art, singing, comedy and wit. This is also a chance to be seen as a sex coach and a platform for information with flavor. 

New trailer video: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-HNlnNJ67Xw

Death as Liberation

My dream has always been to help people. When I was a kid, I would massage my family because I had the height and strength of a 13-year-old when I was 10 and the $5 reward. My family immigrated from the Philippines in 2000 when I was 5; I couldn’t contribute financially so this was the least I could do for my parents and my closest brother. I'm not going into the intricacies of my family dynamic because I've healed from that trauma. My biggest traumas are becoming disabled in America and sexual assaults. I've beautifully recovered from my own sexual traumas, though I'm still fighting for my own rights as a disabled person; then add a business for the cherry on top

I'm currently in grad school for sex coaching and am surprising my peers and instructors with the speed of my completion with the modules. I'm paying my own tuition and have a 15-month payment plan with my savings and sex work. I was really hoping to be employed, but I did some research and most successful disabled people in America have their own business, entrepreneurship, solopreneurship, and/or have different sources of income. It's a never ending hustle.

I have been in the sex education sector for years now and I do include my sex work. Sex workers are social workers. I have had clients who are decent and have thanked me for showing them that it's ok to look, but with a respectful gaze. I've been complimented for my online sex work advocacy by my own clients, even changing their attitudes and beliefs towards ethical sex work. I feel a lot more comfortable with sex work, however, that's mostly because of the awareness of sex work.

Sex coaching is very different from sex work, mostly for safety and legality. Sex coaching is also very personal from both clientele and coach. There must be trust established. Unlike sex therapy, sex coaches can physically touch our clients (with the proper certification for some form of bodywork certification). Ideally, I would really like to incorporate my sex work and sex coaching because I have learned a lot from my years of sex work and education history. This would need an additional certification for sex surrogacy, but why can't my years of experience simply because I don't have fiscal access to more training.

If you are disabled and want to work in America, forget about it! The sheer safety hazard alone makes sex work so scary currently. Especially for queer Asians with undiagnosed brain inflammation; I happen to be a part of this demographic. My disability has been very debilitating since it affected my right hand, inabiling writing functions. I am currently practicing body regulation for stress and extreme self-care. Sex coaching is my passion and the doubt my family has for my success only fuels my grind. I jokingly respond with, "well then I die," when asked about my uncertain future because this country does not care about my life. For many disabled people, death is a form of liberation because living is simply too much to handle.

There's a Big Difference Between Radical Acceptance and Tolerating Abuse

My family has always been loud due to the following: hearing loss on my father's side, my mother being from Batangas, and having anger issues. I cried when I was in 3rd grade because my mother got frustrated and slapped me for not understanding the multiplication table. Yeesh, no wonder her and I only talk when my brother's not home.

I hear their whispers. "Oh she quit because she wants to focus on her graduate studies," my brother says to a family friend or "alam mo na naman," from my mother, roughly translating into "well, you know why again," indicating no hard work and not understanding that I'm choosing to live on my own terms. I have a romantic date next week with one of my closest friends and I asked my brother if she could sleep over. He was wondering why I was asking, and even instigated on why I only hung out with my friends outside of our home. I responded honestly and replied, "because I don't feel comfortable being myself around you. There's all different versions of me and I can't even tell which parts are actually me." Silence. We didn't speak until the next day.

I'm now doubting my radical acceptance of him because it's not fair that I am the only one willing to change. Every time I privately correct him on GSRD/LGBTQIA+ terms or pronouns, he barks at me and says, "it's just us!" Unfortunately, yes. It is just him and I and I bet he hates it. I know I hate censorship, but he doesn't have to worry about that because he's older, the man, and has money. What I hate most is the lack of emotional support, but I mean, what can I expect? My mother doesn't even believe I was sexually abused by a different older brother! Additionally, she loves bringing up my past, but whenever I bring mine up, I'm shushed to the side.

Anyways,
Happy birthday to the other person who doesn't cause drama in my family,
My father.