I am a W.H.O.R.E.

Are we the sum total of our experiences or are we more than that? Are we the perceptions of others? Walking, talking self-fulfilling prophecies? If life is what the individual makes it then why can a person’s entire life be based on a single moment? I’m pretty sure Monica Lewinsky is a sweet well-meaning woman who’s not afraid to do whatever she feels is going to get her to where she needs to be. I’m sure she is more than a stained dress and a presidential scandal. Right???

This is the dilemma that I am having. When I was a child before I was ever sexually active, my mother’s friends would always tell her to watch out for me because I was going to be a “fast lil girl”. Now I’m not sure where all of you are located upon reading this. But this term in my community meant that I was sure to be promiscuous and should  be under strict and constant supervision. This seems to have followed me my entire life; all because I happened to be a pretty LITTLE girl. I was becoming sexualized by other women before I even hit the double digits. And no one seemed to find fault in this, but that’s a topic for another post.

***Now as a quick side note, I do want to point out that all of those women that were talking about me are now veteran grandmothers, many of whom became so before I graduated high school. My mother is desperate for a grandchild at this point. Suck it  bitches!!!***

But back to me, my issue is being thought of as a whore; it really makes me cringe. It makes me very uncomfortable, yet I’ve at times worn it as a badge of honor. See although there is a stigma about being a whore, being thought of or known as a heterosexual whore is still in some cases more accepted than being a vanilla bean lesbian. But that too, is a topic for another post.

First some back story. I, for most of my life, went to a predominantly black school and given how society sexualizes little black girls in addition to a constant surge of hormones, sex was always the topic of discussion and if it wasn’t, it was about the things we could do so that it would be. While the middle school girls were busy being boy crazy, I was trying to figure out how and why I wasn’t and still a virgin; it seemed like the uncool thing to be. So to be cool I did what any self-respecting pre-teen would do to fit in with the other middle school kids; I lied. If someone came to me with a fabricated story about me that sounded way better than real life at the time, you could most certainly bet that I would own it. And some of these stories were nothing short of amazing! I kept this up for quite a bit not realizing the damage it would hold for me when I got older, and did become sexually active. But what did I care, I was banking on never seeing these people again. Oh to be young again!

Then the day came and I finally found the word gay and realized that was totally who I was and then shit got real. There was a whole new level of fear associated with me being ‘outted’ and the way news traveled around that small K-12 school campus, if certain people knew something the entire campus and administration knew as well. It was a no-brainer for me that this could never, under any circumstance happen. I found a group of friends that happened to share my story of living a closeted childhood life and found a sense of community among these girls and we had a mutual understanding. A blood oath among teenagers: You tell anyone and you’re dead!

I finally came out and the real struggle began. How do I reconcile these sexual encounters without being considered a whore? How can I enjoy the fruits of my new found sexuality and remain chaste in public opinion. Well, I lost my virginity to a girl (oh yes it can happen), one of the most terrifyingly euphoric experiences of my life... and then there was the guilt. "Does this make me a whore, now?" I could've put a Catholic to shame.

For years, I reconciled this notion with deciding to only engage in sexual acts with people that I was in a relationship with or close friends that I knew I could trust. But one thing was becoming apparent that I didn’t count on, I really enjoyed sex. No REALLY, damn near the point of insatiability, but I digress. How was I going to have lots of sex but keep my goodies to myself and not be the fast girl my mother was warned about. Alas another solution, I became a serial monogamous! I couldn’t be alone because that meant being subject to the scrutiny of whoredom. I wasn’t that strong yet. I needed relationships to keep me pure, to add substance to the fact that I was a woman that actually enjoyed sex. “Yes ma’am momma, I am quite the whore but only in my relationships, only for my woman, so that really means I'm just a good girlfriend.” 

That’s the American non-whore way… Right???

Constantly scared of the ridicule, I found myself settling for horribly abusive relationships, neglected and abandoned all within my relationships. But how was this happening, I had always understood relationships to be chaste and sacred and the perfect cover. How was this happening??? I thought that so long as I was in a relationship and everything was good then I had nothing to worry about, right? Wrong, I was totally wrong.

It turned out that there was a whole level of respect to the thing that I was totally overlooking. It didn’t even occur to me that I could be taken advantage of in the safety of relationships, but that totally happened. I allowed myself to enjoy sex in my relationships with my partners thinking it was a spiritual experience that was bringing us closer without first making sure we were on the same page, hell, making sure we were reading the same book. They say hindsight is always 20/20. 

I learned. 

So cut to present day. In my metaphysical quest, one thing has become clearer as the days drag on: nothing really matters because we are all matter. We are all connected and nothing is truly real but spirit. So in essence, we are all walking talking self-fulfilling prophecies because we are the stewards of our destinies and as such become a part of what we perceive and how we are perceived. So to those veteran grandmothers I was a fast lil girl. I was the sum total of my experiences because that’s what was shaping my reality. But one thing, the true solution has definitely changed me for the better: I understand the interconnectedness of all things and as such, I no longer give a fuck. (And that is the most proper way to put it.)

I choose to create my own destiny, a state of consciousness that vibrates in the key of ascension and lives tempered in the ethereal. I recall a line from, what is widely regarded as The Hymn of ISIS, as a celebration of the divine feminine balance specifically when it states “…I am the virgin and the whore…” I can willfully and skillfully be both without shame and fear because I have known both lives and they are identical in public opinion so to hell with it all. I am my own woman and I define me and I’m taking back that word and making it more; giving it personal meaning, substance. Purpose. My life is a series of single moments strung together with Roses, beautiful and dangerous, smooth and ragged. REAL.

I am a Woman Happily Owning Rights (to her) Experiences.

I am a Woman Honestly Owning (her) Risque Experiences.

I am a Woman Happily Opened (to) Receiving Everything.

I am a Woman Holding Ownership Rights (to her) Emotions.

I am a Woman Handling Oppression Righteously (&) Effortlessly.

I am a Woman Heartily Opposing Rigidity (in) Expression.

I am a Woman.

I am a W.H.O.R.E.

And all of this is okay.