Equality is Not Necessarily Symmetry

Tristan Taormino writes in her legendary non-monogamy guide, Opening Up, “Some people have confused equality with symmetry.” She’s talking about open relationships, and how sometimes it can cause tension between partners if one of them goes on lots of dates and the other doesn’t. But this insight jumped out at me when I first read it, because it applies to so much in relationships, especially non-normative relationships.

Take, for example, Dominant/submissive dynamics, the likes of which are discussed in salacious detail on websites like OMGKinky and, um, this one. From the outside, those connections may look completely imbalanced. The Dominant tells the submissive what to do; the Dominant might have more freedoms and options available to them, while their sub might have more responsibilities and limitations; it might appear that the Dominant always gets their way. But on the inside of this relationship – provided it is healthy and ethical – both participants know that they each have an equal say in what happens between them. The lending and borrowing of power is powerful for them both because it was and is a voluntary decision, made from an even playing field.

Another area where the “symmetry =/= equality” concept works is in relationships between people whose mental health situations differ drastically – whether one partner struggles with mental illness and one doesn’t, or they each have a different diagnosis. Partners in these situations will simply have different needs from one another, and that’s fine. Sometimes I feel bad that my partner takes care of me more than I take care of them, but they don’t need the amount and types of care that I need, because they don’t have my issues. Not only that, but they’ve explicitly told me many times that they like taking care of me – so our “asymmetrical” relationship isn’t inequitable at all.

Even something as simple as differing temperaments or love languages can make a relationship asymmetrical-yet-equitable. Maybe one needs a lot of alone time and the other doesn’t; maybe one loves receiving oral sex in the morning but the other hates having their sleep interrupted; maybe one feels loved when their partner sends “good morning” and “good night” texts but the other doesn’t need the same in return. Whatever the case may be, as long as both partners are able to figure out an arrangement that works for them, they both need not get exactly the same treatment from each other. It’s fine if your needs and wants are different from your partners’.

What this all boils down to is internalizing the simple human truth that we’re all different people, with different preferences and needs and boundaries and desires. It doesn’t work to impose exactly the same everything on both people in a relationship; that’s not a flexible enough strategy for the vast complexity and randomness of human personalities. What’s ultimately important is that you’re both getting equal amounts of what you want. That’s a metric you can use to test your relationship’s equality – so that you can get back to your delightfully asymmetrical activities together, guilt-free.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Escort Echelons: What is the “Whorearchy”?

I think I first encountered the term “whorearchy” in a podcast hosted by Tina Horn. She’s done sex work in various forms and is thus, I would assume, intimately familiar with the ways people in that community can turn against each other, judge each other, and speak ill of each other. Porn performer Belle Knox says the whorearchy is the name given to the phenomenon in which “sex work segregates itself along perceived social and legal lines.” It is – like so many systems of (de)valuation and “respectability” in marginalized communities – a form of infighting, of internalized oppression, of people keeping each other down when they might instead lift each other up.

Though I’ve done very few forms of sex work, sparingly and sporadically, I have seen this dynamic in action. In sugar baby communities, for example, there’s often tons of hostility aimed at escorts and escort agencies, the implication being that sugar-dating is somehow classier than full-service sex work because it’s not directly transactional, even though… in most cases, it is. There are also phone-sex operators who disdain in-person sex work, escorts who think camming isn’t real sex work, and pro dommes who think their lack of genital contact with clients makes them better than service providers who do have sex with johns, just to name a few examples.

These squabbles remind me of the internalized misogyny displayed in, for instance, bookish brunettes claiming busty blondes are stupid and setting feminism back, or TERFy second-wave feminists insisting third-wavers are betraying the cause by embracing promiscuity and trans rights. This type of infighting mostly just encourages marginalized people to police each other’s behavior rather than banding together to take on their oppressors.

It’s worth noting, of course, that different types of sex work do come with different levels of risk, difficulty, and stigma. Street-based sex workers are particularly vulnerable to violence, for example, and racialized and/or disabled escorts face discrimination and mistreatment that white and/or able-bodied ones don’t. Acknowledging and understanding these differences is part of intersectionality: the feminist idea, coined by black feminist theorist Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw, that oppressed people (in this case, sex workers) all have different experiences based on their identities and the systems of oppression they face. However, someone having a different experience than you in the world doesn’t mean they have to be your adversary.

In fact, it’s been wonderful to see sex workers from various different areas of the field band together to fight against SESTA/FOSTA, the “anti-sex trafficking” laws that have seriously eroded sex workers’ rights, freedoms, and livelihoods. I’ve seen escorts and camgirls chatting online about the problems they face, pornographers boosting phone-sex operators’ tweets about their struggles, online findommes telling their audiences to donate to Red Light Legal. There have been stunning incidences of solidarity, because, as is so often the case, marginalized individuals are stronger together than splintered.

A while ago, an escort friend of mine asked if I wanted to come to a sex workers’ play party she was organizing. I was surprised: “I’m not really a sex worker,” I stammered, “I just, like, do cam shows and sell nudes and make amateur porn and sometimes sell my panties and I was a sugar baby once…” I was so used to having my sex work experiences diminished, or to feeling like I had to preemptively diminish them myself, because what I do isn’t “real” sex work. But here’s the thing: it is, even though it’s different from other types. I’ve seen more and more recognition in my online communities over the past few years that the whorearchy doesn’t serve anyone it comprises. Sex workers’ problems have gotten worse and the community is suffering more than it has for a long time (and it’s suffered a lot) – but sometimes it seems the internal landscape of the group is shifting for the better, even if only a little.

My friend smiled. “That totally counts! You should come!” I smiled, too.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all writing and opinions are my own.

Review: Dame Kip

Dame is an interesting company, from the perspectives of sex toy design, marketing, and even feminism. They made waves earlier this year when they sued New York’s public transit system for refusing to let them hock their wares in subway ads, despite the MTA previously running ads for erectile dysfunction pills. Dame decried the company’s sexism, sex-negativity, and suppression of free speech. In the end, even if the MTA hampered Dame’s sales by limiting their publicity venues, the toymakers recouped some of that publicity by launching this very public lawsuit. The media largely painted them as feminist heroes, fighting against patriarchs and puritans.

Whether or not that’s totally true – I have a hard time accepting that corporations, mired in destructive capitalism as they are, can truly be said to be ethical no matter their values – Dame is certainly doing some interesting things. Their marketing is colorful and friendly-looking, as are their toys. I hated their first release, the bug-like Eva, because it refused to stay put and its buzzy motor annoyed my clit, but Dame took customer feedback into account and got to work making more effectual toys. Now their lineup is wider, cuter, and better than ever.

The toy of theirs I chose to review, when offered, was the lemon-yellow Kip, a clitoral vibrator that fits neatly in the palm of your hand. With its flat, tilted tip, it reminded me of the We-Vibe Tango, one of the best clit vibes ever created. I was interested to see whether Dame’s newer offerings could push them into the top tier of toymakers, adored and coveted alongside the likes of Fun Factory and Lelo. Astonishingly, based on this toy, I think they are well on their way.

The Kip immediately sets itself apart from most high-end clitoral vibes currently on the market, by a) being bright yellow and b) having both an “increase speed” button and a “decrease speed” button. I admire Dame’s bravery in creating a toy in a color outside the standard ones for “women’s” sex toys; any departure from staid pinks and purples in the sex toy industry is much-appreciated. The buttons, however, have actual functional importance. They let you adjust the toy’s vibrations more specifically and intuitively than vibes that have only one button for cycling through all their modes, like the Tango. Since I tend to move up and down in vibration speed several times in any given session, this feature is crucial for me, and often a major strike against toys that lack it.

The shape of the vibe, too, is rather unique. While it does have the flat, pointed tip I associate with the Tango, on the Kip it’s not so much flat as ever-so-slightly concave, allowing it to gently cup your clit. The pointed edge has some softness and squish to it, so that during use, it flutters back and forth like a tiny tongue. What with all the different surfaces and edges on this toy, and the way its vibrations are distributed, it’s very versatile and can please people who like pinpoint clit stimulation as well as something a little broader.

In my hand, the Kip feels substantial enough to seem well-built and high-quality, but light and slight enough to fit easily into my hand during sex or my handbag for sexy outings. It charges magnetically and holds its charge for several sessions. It can stand upright on my nightstand and looks great doing so.

But let’s talk about the motor, since that’s what really matters in a vibrator. The Kip’s motor is wonderful. It rumbles and thrums. It’s satisfying at each of the toy’s 5 steady speeds (I use all 5 regularly). It’s not quite Tango-level, and it can’t exactly compete with your jackhammer-esque wands, but for a vibe of its size and price point ($85!), it’s entirely respectable. Dame came to play, y’all.

It’s even fairly quiet, at least on the bottom three speeds. The top two would likely arouse suspicion if someone else was in the room with you, but certainly couldn’t be heard through a door like many other vibes of this strength.

So here’s the thing: the Tango is only $79, six dollars less than the Kip. If you’re deciding which one of these two toys to buy – which you might reasonably do, given their similarities in quality, size, shape, and price point – you should make your decision based on two key factors: vibrations, and ease of use. The Tango tops out with stronger vibrations than the Kip – but the Kip’s speeds remain consistently rumbly, while the Tango starts to get a little buzzier on its highest speed. As for ease of use, the Tango’s one and only button must be used to cycle through all eight of its patterns and speeds every time you want to switch to a different one, while the Kip’s vibrations can be adjusted much more easily via its up and down buttons.

There are other factors too, of course: the Tango will fit into other toys that have a slot for bullet-sized vibes, while the Kip will not; the Kip has a travel lock, which the Tango does not; the Tango’s tip is narrower and marginally firmer; the Tango’s battery is known to die after a while (I’ve heard anywhere from 1-3 years; mine have typically lasted about 2 years each), while I’ve heard no such rumors about the Kip (yet). It’s a very close call, and honestly I don’t know that I have a strong opinion either way. I’m likely to use both of these vibrators regularly for as long as I own them (and as long as they remain functional).

I hope the MTA finally lets Dame advertise their toys, because more people need to know about the Kip.

 

Thanks to Dame for sending me this vibe to review!

Monthly Faves: Strangers, Bimbos, & Ghostbusters

It was an offbeat month in my sex life, full of strange kink insights and trippy adventures… Here are some highlights!

Sex toys

• The biggest news in my toy drawer this month was that my precious Eroscillator Top Deluxe BROKE while I was in Portland! After 3 years of loyal service, I guess it decided I had dropped it one too many times (sorry, pal), because two different segments of the body of the toy fell right off. I tried in vain to piece it back together, and then eventually gave up and ordered a new one. It really is that good; I considered whether I could live without it and determined that I could not.

• I got an email from Dame, a sex toy company from whom I didn’t own anything, offering me a toy of my choice. The Kip clitoral vibrator was an obvious selection for me; it’s vaguely Tango-esque and BRIGHT YELLOW! I will probably review it in full at some point, but for now, just know: this adorable little vibe is rumblier and stronger than its small stature would indicate, and it has a lot of features I’m always yelling at sex toy companies to implement, like an up AND a down button, and a travel lock. Well-played, Dame.

• To continue to give Dame kudos: their new aloe-based lube, Alu, is pretty damn good. The ingredients list is impressive (no glycerin, parabens, or propylene glycol) and you can even order a $4 silicone sleeve called Grip that goes around the bottle to prevent you from dropping/throwing it when your hands are lubey. So smart.

Fantasy fodder

• My partner and I have wanted to do a “strangers at a bar” roleplay for a long time and this month we finally got around to it. On one of our free days in Portland, I took a book to a cocktail bar near our hotel, ordered a daiquiri, and sat alone reading – one of my favorite solo date activities. Sir came in a few minutes later, sat a stone’s throw away, and started chatting me up after a little while. One thing led to another and we ended up back in “my” hotel room… This was a super fun roleplay that I would highly recommend, and apparently my vagina agreed, because (uncharacteristically for me) I had an orgasm during PIV – whoa!

• During one of our many late-night phone calls, my Sir asked me what I’d been fantasizing about lately, and I mentioned enjoying the thought of someone going down on me because it’s their job – like a sex worker or an unconventional masseuse. Because my Sir is a genius, they quickly conjured a roleplay in which they, my daddy, had hired a male escort to give me head for my birthday, which he would do while Sir gave him moment-by-moment instructions. This scene pinged so many of my kinks – and also made me laugh a lot, when Sir said the escort was “setting up his supplies” and I couldn’t imagine what “supplies” someone would need for plain old puttin’ a mouth on a vulva!

• I’ve been thinking a lot lately about mental blankness. It helps that I’ve been reading a lot of Sleepingirl‘s hypnosis stories, but more generally, I’ve been pondering the ways intoxication, trance, and subspace can each help me float away inside my own brain during scenes when that’s what I want. For someone like me who’s constantly anxious and overanalytical, sometimes nothing is sweeter or more necessary than just shutting down the ol’ brain and receiving pleasure in absentia. Sir and I did a scene exploring these themes recently through hypnosis and “bimboification”; it was really fun, in a way, to feel my faculties draining away from me.

• Speaking of Sleepingirl: I commissioned her to write me a short story about a sub getting through the airport security line with the help of their hypno-savvy dom. It’s so cute and emblematic of how romantic hypnosis can be.

Sexcetera

• This year I got to attend the XOXO festival for the first time, and it was phenomenal! Some highlights for me: going to a social meetup of language nerds and playing a loud word game led by Gretchen McCulloch, hearing Harry “Hbomberguy” Brewis talk about raising money for Mermaids by live-streaming himself playing Donkey Kong, seeing Amelia and Emily Nagoski talk about the perils of burnout, the entire live podcast lineup, and meeting some readers of my blog (hi)!

• I participated in the Smutathon on Saturday, sex writers’ attempt to write for 12 hours straight to raise money for the National Network of Abortion Funds. My final word count for the day was 13,336 – that’s 11 blog posts (many of which will go up here over the next couple months), 3 newsletters, and 4 poems. The fundraiser has pulled in almost $3K so far – we’d still love to get that up to $5K!

• My Sir and I guested on the Off the Cuffs podcast together this month! It was really fun to sit down with two of my favorite people, drink cocktails, and chat about kink. We covered erotic hypnosis, sleepy sex, long-distance relationships, coming out as kinky, and more. Matt also guested on Question Box; we competed to see who could answer the most personal questions. You know what they say: the couple that podcasts together, stays together… or something…

• Sextistics: This month I had in-person sex 13 times and phone sex 21 times, totalling 34 sessions.

Fashion & beauty

• XOXO gave out adorable pronoun pins to its attendees and I’m so into mine. If we’re gonna normalize sharing our pronouns by default, which we absolutely should, we might as well do it in style.

• I ordered 3 new lipsticks from Sugarpill and they’re all great, though Bliss is disappointingly almost my exact natural lip color (plus glitter), so I doubt I’ll wear that one as much as the other two. My favorite of the bunch is Hijinx, a berry shade overlaid with blue glittery iridescence. Incredible.

• I have a mega-crush on model Alexa Chung (I mean, upon seeing her, who doesn’t, frankly), and lucky for me, she has a YouTube channel now where she does makeup looks, hair tutorials, and more. It’s very good and she is very pretty.

Media

• You owe it to yourself to check out this episode of Punch Up the Jam about the Ghostbusters theme. I was present at the live recording and have honestly never laughed that hard during a live podcast before. You’ll learn a lot about this iconic song and you might also wonder what the hell Ray Parker, Jr. was thinking at times.

• I kept hearing good things about Trick Mirror: Reflections on Self-Delusion by Jia Tolentino, so I tore through it, and it was great. I’ve been thirsting for more essays from introspective women ever since devouring Esmé Wang’s The Collected Schizophrenias, and this hit the spot. It touches on reality TV, “late-capitalist fetishwear,” the beauty myth, Southern hiphop, drugs as a gateway to the divine, and more.

• Current song obsession: “Favorite Show” by Great Grandpa. I keep waking up with this tune lodged in my head lately, so I’ve been groovin’ to it a lot.

Little things

Sleeping together over the phone. Our incredible guests on Question Box. Laughing with Max in his sunny back yard. Getting a window seat on planes. The Multnomah Whiskey Library and their fancy bartenders. Going to the rose garden while really high (um, would recommend). The photobooth machine at the Ace Hotel. When you can tell who’s the dom and who’s the sub in a photo. Hanging out with Epiphora and her wonderful cats. Wandering through Powell’s for hours. Matt bringing me coffee in the morning. “I just want everyone to know that I’m very gay.” Serendipitously sitting next to actors I admire at the theatre. Client projects that fascinate me. Sir sending me ramen when I was sick (and then, later, watching this video of a pastry chef attempting to make gourmet instant ramen from scratch). Seeing Lane Moore and DeAnne Smith do Tinder Live at Comedy Bar, from front-row center. Attending the Bi Arts Festival with a queer femme friend. Going to see movies by myself. Shopping with friends. Solo cocktails-and-reading dates at the Library Bar.

Should You Be Able to Rate & Review Sexual Partners?

I wrote this in high school but lots of it still rings true…

In 2013, a new app called Lulu was released which allowed female users to anonymously rate and review their male acquaintances, including friends, exes, and past hookups. The men were rated on a 10-point scale, for criteria like humor, manners, ambition, and willingness to commit.

There was immediately a media panic about it, with outlets referring to Lulu as “Sex Yelp” and speculating on what it portended about human relationships in the 21st century. Dating-app giant Badoo later acquired Lulu and shut down the ratings component of the app, but the question remained: is rating and reviewing sexual partners useful? And perhaps even more pressingly: is it ethical?

I’m sorry about the cissexism. We were young and shitty.

I thought about this again years later when a friend and I devised a rating scheme for penises we had known, featuring criteria like “hygiene,” “soft skin,” “taste of cum,” “testicular perkiness,” and so on. It seemed harmless to me at the time, a hilarious joke perpetrated while tipsy, but upon reviewing it in the light of day, I realized how objectifying it was. What I’d originally conceptualized as a tool for discussing sexploits with friends (“The dick I sucked last night was an 86 out of 100, can you believe?!”) now seemed like a process as cruel and dismissive as swiping through Hot or Not or scoring selfie-submitters on the “Am I Ugly?” subreddit. How could I call myself sex-positive and body-positive if I was literally assigning numerical scores to people’s anatomy? I couldn’t.

There are some cases where rating sexual partners seems fine, or even prudent. Sometimes clients offer public feedback about sex workers they’ve seen (check out USASexGuide for more on that), which can inform prospective johns’ decisions and drive clientele to service providers. There are also always backchannels where women and other marginalized people exchange notes on their dates and hookups with others in their community, warning friends away from abusers and boundary-crossers. These discussions are crucial for keeping people safe who would otherwise have trouble staying safe, because of the unfortunate ways our dating culture and sex work laws are set up. I don’t begrudge anyone for sharing info about “bad dates” and reading other people’s info of the same sort; sometimes these behaviors are the only recourse you have.

But rating people’s bodies and sexual skills is a different thing entirely. Sex is deeply personal, and sometimes embarrassing, and a lot of people have a lot of hangups about it; the same things can be said about our fallible human bodies. It seems unjustifiably cruel to rate people on these criteria in a venue as public as an app or a website, unless they’ve specifically solicited that feedback, like people do on “rate me” forums. (I often wonder if these people are suffering from low self-esteem, or discovering a sublimated objectification/humiliation kink, or both.) In a culture as sex-negative and body-critical as ours, you hardly need say anything at all to fuel someone’s deepest fears and insecurities. Even the most seemingly innocuous criticism can set off a spiral of self-hatred in those of us who are susceptible to this sort of thing, which is most of us.

So I can no longer justify rating and objectifying people (or penises) in the ways I used to. Eradicating sexual shame and encouraging self-love are two of my key goals, professionally and personally, and critiquing bodies and sexualities runs counter to these objectives. This is true not only for other people but for myself: the more you cast a critical eye on how other people look and what they’re doing in bed, the more you’ll tend to judge yourself in those areas as well, perhaps without even meaning to. These mental habits are dangerous, and insidious, and must be actively fought against to be extinguished.

Tell your best friend about last night’s mediocre hookup over drinks, if you like; write in your journal about genitalia that confounded you, if you must. But sharing these judgments online doesn’t really serve anyone, in my view, and it may even contribute to society-wide shame cycles. If you want to create a better world for humans who have sex, one of the best ways to start is to view everyone’s body and sexuality with the same compassion you’d hope they would extend to you.

 

This post was sponsored. As always, all words and opinions are my own.