Becoming a Mother in 6th Grade

TW: CHILD SEXUAL ASSAULT/ABORTIONS & UNWANTED PREGNANCIES 

I simply cannot wait another year to talk about my nephew because he turned 17 yesterday. I promised myself I wouldn't display him on my Instagram until he was 18, but he's so mature and I was so worried we had drifted apart. He is my child because I raised this beautiful boy and I'm so happy he's nothing like his father. My first memory was of my nephew's father, first sexual assaulter, and also happens to be my blood brother closest which is 10 years my senior. I'm not going to rip open healed wounds, but instead give you insight on ending generational trauma and the people I had to remove from my life in order to end toxic cycles… and I'm fucking proud of myself. 

I was present when my nephew was born, let's call him Sammy for anonymity and ease. Sammy was born in 2006, a Leo, and my newest best friend. Him and his mother, let's call her Pia, moved in with us (at the time, there was mommy, daddy, my molester [let's call him Luke, named after a SF comedian who raped me]) in 2006 and we all became super close. I even learned how to use a breast pump! Yeah, my shitty molester made me do it to embarrass both me and the mother of his child, but it is what it is, right mother? Side note, if you’re not familiar with tallasianchick lore, my mother is a sly misogynist and chismosa [gossip]; she often critiques the women in my family and defends her shitty sons. Therefore, I was taught to close my legs while my brothers were forgiven for impregnating so many women; there are two abortions that I know about and she seemed to have forgotten about those two too. Did I mention my second oldest brother's gambling addiction too? FOCUS, ILAH, FOCUS! 

Where were my parents? The grandparents were busy working too. My dynamic with my Sammy has always been aunt and godmother; nicknamed "tinang," a mashup of "tita," meaning aunt, and "ninang," the Tagalog word for godmother. This is Filipino culture due to Spanish influence and colonization, slowly erasing indigenous groups and the beautiful, genuine human diversity. So what do you get when you combine your stubborn, misguided elders with lack of accessibility to the Internet and refusal to learn (or unlearn)? You get my parents who are very similar to the Filipino immigrant experience that almost every Filipino child in America experiences. The Filipino-American experience of prioritizing school over mental health, unknown belongingness, and never being good enough, or adversely, being "too much." I fall under the last category, someone willing to sacrifice my place within the family, which is filled with abuse and unhealthy patterns of behaviors, and ending these family-breaking mentality. I'm here to end the cycle. 

When I finally received my license at 18, my retired father became the primary caregiver to his grandchildren. I was also beginning college and I wanted to be a working student like my mother! I wanted to understand her struggle, minus the children; I'm the second sibling who is pursuing a Master's. I have always been a caretaker (before becoming disabled) so I figured I could be a babysitter. It paid well, kids love me, and I could make my own schedule. I genuinely love being around children because they are the funniest humans due to having zero filters. The parents also loved me and when I'm feeling down, I sometimes read my old reviews on the original babysitting website. I wonder where some of them are now and whom I left an impact on. Kids also give me hope. My niece from another brother is 14 years old and is so mature for her age; and I like to take credit for that. Same with Sammy whom I learned is saving his sexual debut at college because he wants to focus on his studies. Prior to yesterday, the 20th, I hadn't seen Sammy in a year. I was so shocked to hear how deep his voice has gotten and how time didn't change our dynamic. It was like picking up where we left off and I loved the energy. 

I remember my last child that I babysat and I was already disabled (I could still walk without a brace so this was really early in my disability process). Located in Oakland, the job was a total of no more than 3 consecutive days. I would walk with her stroller to Lake Merritt to go to the playground in the summertime. This child was also a struggle and curveball for me. For some reason, she didn't like me until the last day where the child had a tantrum when I left. It was also the part of Oakland that had steady and progressively challenging hills. It was a hot day, I had a stubborn child to keep safe, and I could feel my body trying to keep itself together. That's when I knew I couldn't babysit anymore. I cried on my ride home. 

I'm child-free, not because I'm disabled, but because I have already experienced raising a child. Additionally, the people in my life are already popping out babies and I truly believe in the saying, “it takes a village.” Similarly to my brother/father figure with his experience with me being born when he was 16. I am his child; I actually asked him recently if he loved me more or his best friend (who is an Italian living in Ireland) and without hesitation or doubt on his face, he said me. I was so relieved, but not shocked when I heard those validating words. He and I actually started a lot of the nicknames for our niblings and I'm so happy that my brother/father figure and I were successful in helping the world have a better future.

I went back to my old account and screenshotted some of my favorite families and kiddos!

Television, My 1st Love…

Almost every 90s kid will tell you their favorite 90s cartoon or character. Whether it's the live action Scooby-Doo (YES, THE LIVE ACTION FILM STARRING HORROR KINGS AND QUEEN, SARAH MICHELLE GELLAR, FREDDIE PRINZE JR, AND MATTHEW LILLARD) or my father and I's bond for The Looney Toons, I loved my television. Every morning during elementary school, there would be background noise of something from either Cartoon Network or Nickelodeon while getting prepped for school. It was also my father who drove me every single school day because he was a stay-at-home dad who worked nights at the Hilton; we would be so happy when he brought home leftover steak from an event. 

In my fandom teenage years, it was Skins UK, Misfits, The Walking Dead, (unapologetically) Glee, and many many more. Before that, I remember watching shows with my brother such as The OC, Jack & Bobby, and Heroes. Now that my palate has matured and has stayed the same, but now have moved to The Last of Us, Breaking Bad, Broad City, and Midnight Mass. This made me stumble upon horror television. Zombies are not scary to me, but real life religion does. Television has been a form of escapism for me and it has never resonated harder as I get older. 

It was either a series, movies, music, or drugs for me. As a disabled person with limited money, I cannot do much at this point in my life. My business is still growing and I'm very thankful for the opportunities that lie ahead, but it's the inactivity that activates my cravings. Boredom often follows drug use for me. The escapism of illicit drugs numbs both my emotional and physical pain. I'm terrified of my brother/father figure finding my cold body due to an overdose or alcohol poisoning. If I'm going to be addicted to something, it has to be through a creative medium. 

I don't do illicit drugs because I want to, but they are ingrained in my epigenetics. My father was a smoker and only stopped smoking when he found out he was having a girl. Not to mention all the addicts in my family on both sides; drug abuse, alcohol, gambling, and hard drugs (mostly the rural side of my family). I also take legal drugs which are also addictive such as Valium (for anti-spasticity) and marijuana (for sleeping aid and pain relief). As many of you know that I am a big proponent of harm reduction and I truly believe that I am failing to reduce harm towards myself. I'm not an addict, I am prone to becoming an addict, and I'm trying my hardest not to slip. Thanks for reading. 💖

Why I Can't Masturbate During The Day

Because of the lack of privacy, my gender-neutral dudes. √⁠(⁠•⁠ˇ⁠_⁠ˇ⁠•⁠)√⁠ 

It’s also a safety issue because I can’t be known for the neighbor who masturbates because I live in a street-level bedroom with my windows open AT ALL TIMES. I see a lot of the same faces walk by my street-leveled window and I can only assume they live nearby. Hell, I’ve had the same Grubhub driver three times now; San Francisco is so small that I have literally seen one of my lovers on a rooftop party when I was in a situationship’s room that overlooked a rooftop. Yes, I called to see if it was actually him and as soon as I saw the pause and revealed his phone, held it up against his ear, I had a big smile on my face because I knew it was him. Back to the topic at hand, it has been a bit over a year since my squirting journey and here is the evolution of my masturbation sessions.

I was a humper, mainly pillows, by bunching up a large ball and placing it between my legs. My family said I would, "hump," the pillows until I was sweating and passed out. They thought I was tiring myself out so I could sleep in the heat when I was in heat! When I reached high school, the sheet was upgraded to a banana, cucumber, and curling iron, mentioned in a previous blog post. I even bought my first sex toy at the sex shop with unreliable hours. Even back then, I always masturbated at night. Then I became disabled with chronic pain and orgasms are now a big part of my life and masturbating before bed relieves so many of my side symptoms.

One major thing I've observed ever since I started chronically playing with my clitoris is the ease of which I fall asleep. I can fall asleep anywhere now; I may or may not have missed my train station during my 6:30am, 1.5-hour commute. I was a very anxious person prior to my mystery brain disability and not on any form of medication. I was horny, but was too busy and stressed to masturbate so there was a hiatus in my masturbation in college. This was also a really stressful time in my life, but the more stress I was experiencing, the more sex I would have. Was it because I was having sex with many people? Probably! I remember avoiding a fellow classmate because he happened to be roommates with someone I shamefully hooked up with (I was really depressed and he did not know what he was doing. To this day, I forget his name…). However, I am my own best lover and the reasoning is very simple: I took my time! (C)Literally 28 years of practice (ultrasounds have shown fetuses masturbating in both males and females)! Changing my outlook on sex changed the game for me! 

I'm pleasure-driven rather than orgasm-driven now. I still partake in edging, and wowee zowee, does it improve my stamina and orgasm control! I also find it helpful to countdown to when I'm about to cum, also makes myself hot and sexy for the other partner(s). This mental shift was life-changing because I gave myself permission to simply feel and focus on my pleasure; what works and what doesn't. I love vaginal fisting, only if one has small hands! I've also switched up my toys (I was mostly clitoral, but now I love deep cervical orgasms 💋) and I have a variety of sex toys, some I haven't even unboxed yet. I have dildos on all spectrums of firmness; I'm like the house Goldilocks burglarized: not too hard, big, small, and juuuust right. Goldilocks is a Filipino bakery chain… fuck!

An Ode to Amrita

Excuse me? Have you heard of the Lord and Savior that is amrita, also known colloquially as squirt? Amrita is considered the nectar of the gods and I couldn't agree more. The mystery behind what makes vaginal squirting is quite simple; squirt is released by the urethrovaginal gland (UVG) also known as the Skene's gland. “Amrita is a very old Sanskrit word designating the secreted substance of the UVG,” according to the Journal of Gynecology & Reproductive Medicine. So by definition, pussy juice is sacred, and it should be, along with periods and ejaculation. Lastly, I wanted to add the following quote, “the sexual satisfaction-orgasm-ejaculation spectrum described here leads to a subtle sexual liberation without revolution or discounting evolution,” and focus your attention to the underlined text. The author's approach isn't to liberate or repress, instead, the author is providing information so we can interpret the results on our own. My conclusion is that squirting is sacred and spiritual. 

Don't get it twisted, I'm not going to dip my fingers in a small bowl of amrita and do the sign of the cross on my body to indicate my respect. That's not my sanitary style. This doesn't mean I won't go down on a vagina that's consensually soaked, in fact, when I use my Unboundbabe's Clutch, a take on the classic rabbit-style vibrator, I gush due to triple stimulation: clitoral, vaginal, and from the G-spot. When I remove the toy, I usually feel a gush of warm fluids spew from my vagina. The best part about amrita is its natural lubrication. There's nothing quite like the sounds of amrita squeaking when having sex. Seriously, try it, even by yourself using your fingers! 

Let's focus on this quote now: "the sexual satisfaction-orgasm-ejaculation spectrum described here leads to a subtle sexual liberation without revolution or discounting evolution," as stated in the 1st paragraph, linked, and underlined. I like to think that I practice subtle sexual liberation every day through my work, but also through masturbation. In fact, masturbation aids in my sleep and chronic pain issues; I typically masturbate before bed. By doing so, I get all the yummy post-orgasmic benefits before sleeping; pain alleviation, waking up less to pee, and getting into that sweet sweet REM sleep cycle. Whenever I slept over at a partner's place, I would sometimes ask for pre-sleep sex or at least one orgasm to help me sleep [after I became disabled and learned how to negotiate]!

Now let's dive in deeper into the quote by ending it with my interpretation of, "[without] discounting evolution,” and this resonated with my inner evolutionary biologist. I am an evolutionary biologist bitch, betch! I believe in homologous structures and the clitoris’ only function is for pleasure! This quote also reminded me of what a peer said to me when discussing my fears of unmasking in the Philippines. Ultimately, Dr. Patti said something that upset me because it was too true, "don't be a martyr. If you're dead, you won't be able to spread your knowledge as a sex coach." I ruminated on this statement for at least 48 hours and finally caved. She's right and I hate it because I don't have that excuse of killing myself anymore. I've been living this mindset ever since the onset of my disability and I think it's time to change it. So cheers to Amrita for liberating me and not only for being the nectar of the gods, but for being a part of my being. Same goes to you, clitoris!

An Affinity for Horror as a Trauma Healer and a Queer Womxn

[STRONG TRIGGER WARNING: RAPE/CAR ACCIDENTS/MEDICAL/DISABILITY TRAUMA] 

Fear, as a feeling, can evoke different responses in an individual. When we are in a state of fear, our sympathetic nervous system activates. What does that mean? When we are faced with fear, we have five responses: fight, flight, freeze, flee, and fawn. People are able to make quick decisions and, ultimately, our neanderthal brain instincts kick in. For example, I was in a really bad car accident; my car rolled down a hill and I was adamant about finding help. I still had full movement of my right foot/leg and was still able to climb up the hill so I could shout across a body of water. Luckily, it was still light out and people were in their backyards and they were able to call 911 (additional luck for the gray clouds started to loom in and they seemed to be heading back inside). If you had told me the probability of me surviving that night, I probably would have pulled 28% out of my ass. What saved me was my body's response to fear. And you know what was funny? I CALLED MY EX/FIRST LOVE. I was in such shock and he had hurt me so much, there's a theory about the break-up causing my brain inflammation, but that's for a different blog post. 

After everything that I've gone through in my life, nothing really phases me anymore. I've literally faced death so many times, I'm kind of used to it? [Personally, I don't like making jokes about death though because there are people in my life who have dealt with grief due to death and would like to respect that]. Now, that doesn't mean I'm not afraid, in fact, I am terrified of real life situations instead of masked serial killers or clowns (or serial killer clowns, i.e. Art from Terrifier). I'm terrified of getting physically hurt because of who I am. I've been raped because of my disability. I rewatched I Spit On Your Grave, recently and I was so visibly uncomfortable because of the obvious power dynamic between the main character and a cop with a daughter and pregnant wife. Why did I add those two things? Because he was the main villain in the story, which is quite unfortunate because I tend to love villainous characters; Ursula from The Little Mermaid, Mommy Xenomorph from the Alien franchise, Samantha Carpenter from the recent Scream requel (I want there to be a Scream movie where the lead is Ghostface), Lady Dimitrescu from Resident Evil Village, and down right to literal fate in Final Destination. Incredible writing will make you root for the villain. And how can I forget that Psycho 2 is better than the original. I said it. 

I've noticed that pattern within the queer community and the horror community. There is a Venn diagram and in the middle is where all us, gay people of color. It is true that there aren't that many people of color in horror movies, but I like to think of it as watching white people suffer. Is that so bad? It's all fiction! There is literal harm that is being done to the queer, BIPOC communities currently and it is absolutely atrocious and many of us are living our version of horror. Which is why we delve and immerse ourselves into horror in other forms because we are able to contain it. I also want to point out that George A. Romero's Night Of The Living Dead starred a black man. Good for you, George. I will be referencing an article by Maya Lotus relating queerness to gayness, and I heavily agree with a lot of the aspects of the article. Especially the quote, "LGBTQ+ representation often hides in the shadows alongside the monsters, but as poor evolves, we have seen characters queer people can relate to breaking down the closet door as heroes, vegetable anti-heroes or even relatable villains." I'm not saying that every character in a horror villain is gay, but the scenarios themselves have underlying gay themes. As listed by Maya Lotus's article, some include Jennifer's Body, Frankenstein, Rocky Horror Picture Show, Hellraiser, and The Lost Boys. Anything with vampires is gay, have you seen What We Do In The Shadows? Highly recommend because Guillermo is baby. All of these movies have one thing in common, yearning to be seen, but hiding. Reflectively, we are seeing more and more gay characters and creators in the horror sphere and cannot wait what queer stories we’ll see, whether purposeful or not. From The Haunting of Bly Manor, Fear Street: (insert year here), and Freaky, I love seeing queer characters finally being seen. Also, Psycho was essentially drag???

Movies and television are often escapes from our everyday lives. Queer people often have trauma simply because of who they are. I do believe that horror allows the LGBTQIA+ a form of escape. You cannot guess the amount of YouTube horror reaction channels I've subscribed to within the past 7 months and almost all of them are nasty gays. These channels were also showing me to become, uhm less PC, because I'm FUCKING TIRED OF CANCEL CULTURE.

BUT THAT'S FOR ANOTHER BLOG POST.

HAVE A GREAT WEEKEND! BE SAFE xoxo 

Keeping Up With My Fucked Up Family

I abhor tsismis (commonly spelt as "chismis"). The visually appealing word means "gossip" in Tagalog. Funnily enough, my mother's name was listed as #1 in an online article my brother found and it could not be closer to the truth. The listicle was named something along the lines of, "most common Filipino names who act like Karens." My mother is the matriarch of the family and she doesn't take anyone's shit. She has gone as far as abuse, in my opinion, but to them, I'm being a whiny American victim so let me share with you a little story:

My brother/housemate literally had to bring my brain biopsies to a hospital in Manila (The Philippine's capital); this is what caused the biggest delay to an undiagnosable random onset of my encephalitis. ***Fun fact: I have parts of my brain in my closet*** During a trip to my mother's hometown, it was raining and we were already running late to a church my mother wanted to visit. Her sister, my tita, was also present and as soon as we were walking to the car, they started to chismis on church property. [I secretly think she intentionally whispers loudly so the person she is talking about knows she's talking about them. She loves drama]. The irony was that I paid more attention to a religion that has deeply traumatized me, yet I still respect being around those who believe in it. I respect others' identities and differing views, as long as the respect is reciprocated. My family doesn't know what respect is because they think they are above others.  

I've never heard my mother apologize or admit she was wrong. It scares me how much I am similar to her, but I have to remind myself that I am in control of my emotions and she does not. My mother can be very manipulative, with a victim mentality, and partakes in guilt-tripping. Whenever I confide in her about my depression, or simply try to educate her on anything she wouldn't approve of, I'm automatically wrong. She is very judgemental with hypocritical behavior when it comes to women and conducts in misogynistic behavior ; commenting on other’s behaviors, particularly women, outwardly saying, “she needs to dress her age,” or my favorite, “she wears too much/not enough makeup.” For example, she loves to control my body, especially my vagina. Why?! I'm a grown woman; I'm almost 30 and you still think you have control of me? Lastly, your sons have sexually and physically abused women, are predators, neglects their children, and you still hate me, your daughter? Yes, she's that much of a character. 

I am a cryer and so is everyone in my immediate biological family; we cry when we're sad, scared, angry, happy, really any heightened emotion can trigger tears to start swelling. My mother found out I was sexually active during a doctor's visit and the words, "birth control pills," fatefully spilled from the mouth of a negligent neurologist, as if in slow motion. She was so dramatic and mentally ill that she started acting like a child (e.g. ignoring my explanations and apologies, crying in the MRI waiting room, and just generally making me feel like I'm in the wrong. She was immature about the situation because I was already 21). Sex is natural. I wouldn't be here if she didn't have sex. Whenever I speak about a career milestone, she tries to redirect me to a different profession. Then, I tried to explain to her how disabled people do not have as much privilege as able-bodied people. She will then proceed to scold me on my incessant disability justice and continues to ignore the institutional and governmental issues that are hindering my success in a country in which she idolizes. Additionally, she does not want to accept that her almost 30-year-old daughter is sexually active and is in a career that does not affect her. If anything, I’m succeeding, so is she angry that I am no longer 100% relying on her for my survival? I will never know!

Hypocrisy and lying about her own sexual history is one of my mother's specialties. She claims that my father was her sexual debut, adding to the lies about her past sexual behavior because she has slipped with her lies when discussing my eldest brother's birth and my parents wedding [THE MATH ISN'T MATHING]. In fact, I attempted to get the facts from my brother/housemate by asking what year our parents got married and following with when my brother was born and he told me he didn't know. I KNOW YOU KNOW BECAUSE YOUR MOTHER'S BESTIE! My favorite brother/housemate is the stereotypically neglected middle child and he and our mother talk almost every day. He is more facts-oriented and did not take a side when I revealed brother who molested me because he does not know all the facts and we are both his siblings. He is biased, yet fair and continues to make my life as easy as possible, and I am forever grateful. My mother, however, I guarantee you that 1 lie from me is equivalent to 10 lies for her; a 1:10 ratio. She will omit facts from the “opposing side” to make her look good.

I no longer have to mask around my family because I'm so exhausted from acting all the time. Yes, I still live with my best brother/housemate, not because either one of us wants to, but because we have to. I'm still living with him because I am disabled and that makes me incredulously vulnerable. I have escaped death so many times in my almost 29 years on this earth and I don't intend on holding back in terms of living my life. Life is the longest thing a human can experience, yet death can happen at any time. Life should be experienced with pleasure, not fear. That's what my mother needs; an orgasm.

They Say to Never Meet Your Idols

Before entering college in 2012, I went to Vidcon, a convention for content creators primarily on YouTube. Even back then, I cringed at the thought of yelling across the street to simply say hello to two big British twins who were big on YouTube at the time; and yes, I actually did that. I never really viewed my "idols" as above me because they are just human beings doing their jobs. They have a whole PR team who tell them what and what not to say. Your biggest idols hired a social media assistant because they are too busy to look or even care about their Instagrams. I would not consider myself someone who has had experience with parasocial relationships because I know how it would feel if someone treated me like that, and they have.

Meeting Janelle Monáe was an incredible experience. Not only did I get to spend hours with one of my favorite friends, Daizy, a fellow sex worker who can charm her way into your life, but I also got to experience San Francisco all to myself. Haight-Ashbury, known as the hippie district, is a colorful row of (expensive) vintage shops and boutiques. Along with the eclectic bars and restaurants, it's a vibrant place at night where the hipsters go to hidden shows hosted by the people who live there. I thought SF was the perfect place to meet Janelle. It’s a sex-positive city with a high amount of sex workers and queer folx! I sincerely hope Janelle Monáe took advantage of this historically queer city and paid homage to the colonized Ohlone land.

I didn't want to make Janelle Monáe uncomfortable because I know celebrities deal with a lot. Despite their fame, we shouldn't put them on a pedestal. I'm also not going to lie to you all and say I wasn't nervous because I was. I've been a fan of Janelle Monáe since her 2003 release of Lettin' Go. It was around high school when I discovered Janelle and resonated with her lyrics and themes. Their last album, Dirty Computer, really changed my life; I want a specific lyric tattooed somewhere on my body. I love my "idols," but will respect them at all times.

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.