Featured: Sex Toy Shame and Overcoming Stigma

My sex-positive journey has brought me a long way. Part of it was realising that sex toys can add to the way one experiences pleasure, which seems obvious when I consider it now, but it wasn't always this way. I had internalised a deep distaste of sexuality, and this came with believing things that turned out to be incredibly misguided.

A while ago, I wrote an article for Slutty Girl Problems detailing some of the myths I once believed about intimate accessories, such as how people shouldn't require help getting off, and that men who use toys are weird. Here's an excerpt on why sex toys and partners are not interchangeable:

Normal human beings do not, as a rule, have a vibrate function. Neither are they ridged, rotating, covered in flexible nubs, multi-pronged or utterly, disproportionately enormous. This might be the reason why a male friend of mine, when confronted with a varied array of dildos, had to be reassured that a) these were not of ‘normal’ proportions, and b) toys aren’t a real person. 

Toys can’t replace the affection, comfort and intense intimacy we can feel when we’re with someone we care about. A vibrator can’t kiss or hold you. A dildo can’t provide the experience that a human can; so it may as well not even try. Sex toys need to compensate in other ways – by being extremely good at what they’re meant to do. And why not make them rainbow-coloured and oddly-shaped while you’re at it?

Fight the stigma! Read the full article here.

Why I Removed My Mirena and Went Hormone-Free

Ideologically, I've never liked the thought of putting extraneous hormones into my body.

Practically, though, it made sense.

The hormonal tweaks we put ourselves through in the name of birth control are portrayed by our cultural contexts and peers as utterly normal -- to be expected, really. It's irresponsible not to -- right? And I see why. Often, it's not sustainable for long-term couples to continue using barrier methods, especially if one of them is allergic to latex and needs more expensive alternatives. Assuming both partners are monogamous and have been tested for STI's, using barrier-free hormonal birth control seems to be the most logical step to facilitate spontaneity within a relationship. For some reason, I also get the sense (within my friend group and from medical professionals) that hormonal BC is conceptualised as more effective than condoms.

Why? We're all taught that condoms are 98% effective. What makes the pill (the number-one choice amongst young uterus-having people) the preferred method?

Real life vs theory

Turns out that nearly all BC methods have differing use effectiveness and theoretical effectiveness rates. Theoretical effectiveness is often what we learn about in school -- it's the calculated result of tests within a lab/study environment. Use effectiveness, however, is what actually happens in real life, when you're in a rush and accidentally scrape a condom with your nails while opening it, or get food poisoning and throw up the pill you just took. The variables within everyday existence decrease the overall efficacy of your birth control method. And sometimes, it might even be out of your control. Everyone has heard some horror story where a person got pregnant while using both condoms and the pill, or the contraceptive injection they were administered was expired and thus no longer effective. It seems that there are always sneaky external factors that affect one's potential fertility despite how responsible you try to be.

As it turns out, the pill actually is more effective than condoms, even in real life. While penile condoms have 82% efficacy with typical use (and vaginal versions are billed at 79%), the pill is still right up there with a 91%  chance of it actually doing its job. Sounds like a much better deal. If you're open to casual hook-ups it can be a relief to know that you have a hormonal backup preventing unwanted pregnancy, even if you use condoms to limit STI's.

For me, I started the pill for the reason many teens do: I was having crippling period pain. Many of my friends had started the (progesterone only) minipill to smooth their blemished skin or allow them to actually function like normal human beings, so taking a contraceptive pill every day seemed far more logical than taking a painkiller every time I felt sore.

Because societal norms, right?

Eventually, I switched to a combined oestrogen-progesterone version because it was offered for free at the university clinic. I didn't notice a difference, but my body did. I developed melasma, a condition in which you develop darker pigmented patches on your face. It's also known as "pregnancy mask."

Yeah. I got pregnancy skin. This seemed indicative of a problem. So I stopped the pill and went hormone free for years (with no consequence, because penetrative sex was not a thing). When I started worrying about pregnancy again, I got the Mirena as it's 99% effective no matter what.

It was possibly the worst hormonal decision I could have made.

How the Mirena made me fat and ruined my life

Satan

The Mirena was awesome. I recommended it to everyone. "It's an investment!" I would wheedle convincingly. "You just get it done and it's good for five years! And you'll never forget to take a pill or carry a condom! It's fantastic!"

I kept recommending it as I got fatter. I upped my exercise, and kept recommending it as I got fatter. I tightened up on my diet, and got fatter. So I got a personal trainer. The numbers on the scale crept steadily upwards as I told everyone how great my Mirena was, spending my free time reading books on nutrition and trying new forms of meal plans as I worked out at home and in the gym and at group-fitness HIIT. I collected golfball-sized clumps of hair in the shower, and swept further fluffy dust-mounds from the corners of my house. I wondered why I would get pins and needles from thirty seconds of normal sitting, but dismissed it as normal.

I had my Mirena for three years before I found out that there are multiple online forums filled with women complaining about how the Mirena made them fat or dangerously sick. Interestingly, many of the symptoms these people experienced were not side-effects listed on 'legitimate' websites, and when I spoke to medical professionals about my concerns they seemed to think I was overreacting after spending too much time reading unverified scare-tactics on the internet. Nevertheless, I believed these faceless internet people, because they were talking about real, lived experiences, not controlled medical tests.

I spoke to three different medical professionals about my concerns, and they all seemed very worried about what I would use if not hormones. "Barriers, I guess," I responded. "But that's if I have PiV sex. I don't want to, so I don't see it as a big factor. I'm also tracking my fertility just in case, so I can combine barriers with the rhythm method. If I ever have penetrative sex."

The three female doctors I saw sighed and kept respectfully silent. They believed in the near-failsafe nature of hormonal birth control, and thought I was making a bad decision. I, however, rejoiced as my issues with weight, painfully numb extremities and excessive hair loss became a thing of the past.

I don't think I'll do the hormonal BC thing again.

FYI

Thola Antamu writes about her reasons for going hormone-free here, as well as her experience with the rhythm method. Check it out!

What I've Been Reading

So I'm in the limbo between 'holiday' and 'post-university unemployment,' so I've been doing a lot of reading recently. While I've obviously read some fiction and unrelated stuff, I've been focusing on a number of new sexuality-themed e-books that are worthy of a brief review.

Come As You Are: The Surprising New Science That Will Transform Your Sex Life by Emily Nagoski

Widely billed as 'the book that will change your understanding of sex forever,' this is honestly one of the few that actually lives up to the claim. Normally, I don't like giving in to the hype -- guess it's just my antisocial, contrary nature -- but I started seeing so much positive press from people whose opinions I genuinely trust that I had to check it out. And I'm so glad I did.

Nagoski is a sex educator who easily breaks down some heavy scientific concepts into understandable chunks of data that are simple for non sex-nerds to grasp. Her use of geeky, relatable metaphor (the parts of the brain that mediate pleasure are like the One Ring to rule them all, your Feels are a sleepy hedgehog, desire is your brain and your genitals wandering around picking restaurants together) make the read entertaining as well as cognitively digestible. Her prose is friendly, engaging, humorous and generally wonderful -- just like her. Also, I watched her Tedx Talk and I want her to be my friend.

The book is aimed at cis women, although anyone who has a cis female partner would benefit from reading it as well. Nagoski interrogates why women seem to respond differently to sexual situations than men do, and how that doesn't mean that the way in which female desire works is less valuable or should be changed. The overwhelming message of the book is that everyone's experience of sexuality is normal because it is theirs; that everyone should stop trying to change how their desire functions and focus on how to work with it instead. It's simple. It's groundbreaking. You should read it. Right now.

I Am Not a Slut: Slut-Shaming in the Age of the Internet by Leora Tanenbaum

'Slut' is a dirty word that everyone knows. It's widely used by teenage girls and misogynists alike, and Tanenbaum made a name for herself with her previous book on the subject. This is an updated version of the same, which has been modernised to incorporate and interrogate the huge impact that social media and accessible technology has made in slut-shaming and slut-bashing.

The book argues that there are two types of slut -- the sexy, desirable 'good slut' which our cultural environments often pressure us into being in order to achieve social status and romantic attention, and the 'bad' slut. The 'bad slut' is the one who gets negative slutty attention (you know -- because the 'good sluts' get positive slutty attention, apparently). Tanenbaum's comprehensive research found that bad sluts are punished by society for not adhering to feminine norms, usually through vicious defamation and bullying both online and in person, and attempts to 'reclaim' or otherwise own the label generally turns out to be an overwhelming failure. With one exception, every girl who tried to own the label as a gesture of sex positive power had their lives affected negatively, as their surrounding context did not understand their feminist intent behind the word and treated them as regular bad sluts.

I enjoyed this book because this has never been a word I've identified with, and Tanenbaum made an excellent case which helped me concretise my thoughts on the term (although I still have some mixed feelings).

Urban Tantra: Sacred Sex for the Twenty-First Century by Barbara Carrellas

I decided to check this book out because I've been trying to incorporate more sensuality into my life, and Tantra has that sort of mystical quality about it that seems both magic and inaccessible. The title of the book led me to believe this was a sort of 'Tantra for n00bs' guide, meant for the average unenlightened suburb-dweller as opposed to a yogic, aura-seeing Reiki practitioner well-versed in harnessing cosmic power.

Carrellas focuses on bringing one's attention and energy into the physical moment, using a number of visualisation and meditation techniques, which she exemplifies with simple exercises you can do alone in your room (or in a group, I guess, but that's not me). Many of the exercises are simple, playful, and focus on grounding you in your body through the use of breath, vocalisation and movement. While I feel like I need a lot more practise before being able to move energy between my chakras and have what she calls 'blissgasms,' the movement- and breath-work described really does help to put you in a more meditative, calm state. I found that my grasp on time slipped a little, as my focus was on what was happening within my body. Which is pretty cool.

I'm still busy reading this book, and admittedly, I'm sceptical as to what will work for me -- Carrellas sets some intimidating goals for a spiritual beginner, and it's so outside of my realm of experience; but I'm trying things out according to my own pace. If it helps me establish a stronger connection to the sensual, I'll count it as a winner.

Faux-Feminists: They Just Don't Know

Source: "Hex" by Crawbaby

Sometimes you read a story by a stranger that is so close to your own experience, it strikes you cold. Kate Sloan's honest and chilling article was one of those. While I would strongly advise you to read the whole text, the gist of it is that she realised that an ex friend-with-benefits, whom she had previously trusted as a strong feminist ally, had sexually assaulted various female partners of his. Because he was well-versed and vocal about feminist theory, he managed to deceive those around him while actually violating the same principles he professed to share.

As Sloan describes it,

In his groundbreaking book about abuser psychology, Why Does He Do That?, domestic abuse counselor Lundy Bancroft talks about an archetype he calls “Mr. Sensitive.” This archetypal abuser “presents himself to women as an ally in the struggle against sex-role limitations” and “speaks the language of popular psychology and introspection.” In other words, he uses the jargon of liberal, pro-women social movements — such as, in Tom's case, sex-positive feminism — to pacify his victims and make them seem crazy if they accuse him of abuse. Who, after all, would ever suspect a soft-spoken, sensitive, “woke” man of psychologically and physically destroying his female partner behind closed doors? Feminist lingo and logic can be used to gaslight unsuspecting women, and this is an incredibly dangerous threat.

 

The article has been making numerous cameos in my mindscape recently, because I've been quietly spending idle moments doing internet searches that look like this:

Lol.

 While this is obviously a joke and I don't believe in violence (supernatural or otherwise -- hey, I saw The Craft), it stems from a very real desire to make a person in my past realise what they have done, and what they are. Content warning for sexual assault, and length warning -- this is a long one. Get yourself some tea and a snack.

 

But What About Birth Control?



Uterus-owners have a love-hate relationship with hormonal birth control. Some put themselves through it to confidently engage in partnered sex, some do it just to cope with their own wayward hormonal shifts. Often, we feel we have little choice in what we put in our bodies. Here's a post by Minerva, reminding you that not all bodies are alike and hormonal BC can be dangerous even when prescribed.

I see and hear this all the time from my friends, and even sometimes relative strangers. Women seeking out better birth control because the one they're using is iffy, or maybe they're not on any at all and are nervous about which to choose since there are so many hormonal methods for women.

Inevitably, everyone turns to their various friend circles and asks for recommendations. However, while they may be reassuring, recommendations mean virtually nothing. I've come to realise this over the few switches I've done myself: everyone works differently. Just like your friend telling you about this great new toy, then when you go out and buy it, it simply doesn't tickle your fancy. There's nothing wrong with it, you, or your friend. You're just different. Birth control is more or less the same. What works for your friend may just play havoc with you. 

My own birth control journey started just after I turned twenty. Nervous as all hell, I went to the university health care centre, and when I got into the yellow-walled doctor's office, I had no idea what to say. I just said "Hi there. I want to start on the pill?" Yes, there was a definite question mark. What little sex ed I had received growing up had left me with absolutely no idea how oral contraceptive pills worked. Was there more than one? Did I have to take blood tests? How do I figure it out, what do they look like, what do they actually do inside me -- I had no clue. I knew they prevented pregnancy; and sometimes were good for acne for some reason. 

The doctor did little to inform me either; she simply asked me a few vague questions about my menstrual cycle and sent me home with a few little yellow boxes.


The devil incarnate

 

And I was on the pill.

I was on it for almost a year. During that year I had a massive sexual awakening, which spurred on questions. Endless questions. Eventually, after a pole dancing class, I opened up to the wisest woman I knew and told her about how weird I was feeling. Like I had lost the plot entirely. I had uncontrollable anger that my psychiatrist had given me Lorazepam to try tame. I was at the mercy of crazy mood-swings. I would be fine and happy and content one second, then the next I would be out for blood and biting the heads of any friend I had in the vicinity. I couldn't seem to pull myself out of the worst depression of my entire life, I had lost nearly forty kgs, and I was terrified to say anything because I was so scared that the psychiatrist might be right and I might be bipolar.

My friend immediately recognised the symptoms, having been through them herself. I was on the wrong birth control. She took me to the government clinic she visited and sat with me for the hour or two in line, even chose her favourite nurse to help us. She stayed with me through the consultation, made sure the nurse asked the right questions, and did the right tests (it's a bit fuzzy, but there was a pregnancy test, and an iron test involved to make sure I was healthy before putting me on weird meds), and finally arrived at the same conclusion she had: I was completely out of balance due to these pills. She immediately wrote me a scrip for Nuristerate (the injection), and injected me. My mentor had made sure I had been off the pill ever since I had told her about my issues, and had organised it so that we went to the clinic on just the right day in my cycle. She did all this to minimise the distance and ignorance I had experienced with the first doctor.


Marginally tolerable

 

I was happily on Nuristerate for the next few years -- very happily so. My body felt just fine, and when I discovered I had lost my period I was ecstatic (yes, I'm one of those weird ones who doesn't appreciate the inconvenience of having to find a tampon in the middle of the day because it sneaked up on you).
I switched again to the Implanon chip in October 2015. This time it was due to a combination of factors: I was fairly nomadic at the time, and finding a nurse to inject you at no cost is hard in a new town/city, which is the situation I kept finding myself in every three months.

One night, I woke up with this blinding, stabbing pain in my gut. It was where period cramps usually are, but about a hundred times worse. I crawled to the bathroom in tears, with a slight urge to pee. Of course no pee came out, and I was trapped on the floor of the bathroom after my knees collapsed from the pain. It took about twenty minutes to subside. The next day I thought perhaps it had been a kidney stone or something. But it happened again. And again. And again. No painkiller even made a dent in those stabbing pains. I scraped some cash together and went to a doctor. She eventually ascertained that the pains were cysts bursting in my uterus.

Nuristerate has the unfortunate side effects of building up small cysts on your uterus. Usually these guys are pretty harmless, and you should get them checked every few years or so to make sure they remain so.


Evil

 

However, the last nurse I had trusted had made a mistake with my Nuristerate injection. She hadn't used the full ampule. This resulted in a drop in my progesterone levels, which in turn caused my cysts to start bursting one by one. I resolved to get the Implanon chip implanted in my arm to control this while I was moving around so much.


Unfortunately, this comes with a whole new set of issues. It's been over a year on the Implanon now, and I can't wait to get it out and go back to my Nuristerate. While the implant was fine for a while -- quite glorious actually -- the side effects have steadily gotten worse and worse. Irregular periods, some for as long as two weeks, some for a just a few days. Some Niagara Falls, some tiny spots just enough to ruin a cute pair of panties. And the cramps have been awful. Not to mention I have been through worse depressions than I have experienced in  along time. I am constantly on PMS. You know that itchy brain feeling where everything around you makes you want to murder because it's so irritating? This has been my life. While I haven't had any bursting cysts, I think I would prefer to take my chances with those guys than live in this hormonal hell.

Now if you asked your friends who had this chip implanted, some might tell you rainbows and spin tales of gloriously free life without worry or fuss. And that might very well be true for them. Hence why I say recommendations are virtually worthless. In the end, you should check with your doctor, and communicate with your friends. They will notice the changes in you even when you don't. I have discovered that failing birth control is a slow thing for you to recognise: both times I waited for a year before clicking and going "oooooh right, I'm not crazy, it must be the hormones!" So having friends you're comfortable with and vocal about these things around is quite important, and useful. And just nice and comforting.

Nobody likes going to the doctor alone.

Update: I did a follow-up post!