The Truth
This is a speech of LAUX the author’s performed at her Book Launch celebration for her book To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before.
The truth will set you free, but first it will piss you off.
I cannot overemphasize how exciting it is that I’ve gotten to this point. And yall. It has been a process.
Now, I could talk about the coffee shops and bars and WeWorks where I spent my time writing. Or I could give really graphic reenactments of my book. I could even talk about the oh so very public and oh so very embarrassing breakdowns I had every time I learned something new about myself, but instead I’m going to talk about marketing.
On July 11th, I created a Facebook Event called Let’s Talk About Sex. I made all the other performers co-hosts and invited my 50 friends (because apparently Facebook has a limit to the amount of people you can invite). I got excited about the prospects of having the people in my life together in one place and being able to share the fruit of my labor with the world.
Just as I thought I was done with the event for the night, I got a notification from Facebook.
Your page is eligible for $10 of credit in Facebook ads.
Well would you look at that. Look at Facebook, being helpful for once. I went through the motions. Location — DC, New York, Detroit. The age range 18+. Purpose. To Sell Tickets. And we had to sell these tickets yall because I want these talented ass performers to be PAID. I could digress into the importance of the arts especially during the time of covid, but let me get back on track.
When I came back to Facebook, but an hour later I found yet another notification.
Ad Rejected
Wait what? You are telling me that FACEBOOK? FACEBOOK? The height of capitalism. The amazon of social media will not take my money? Well their mother fucking money, but my money?
I click on the notification confused.
This ad isn’t running because it doesn’t follow our Advertising Policies. We don’t allow ads that promote adult products or services, such as sex toys, sexual enhancement products, or sexual videos and publications.
Ads like these are sensitive in nature and typically evoke a negative reaction from viewers.
Man, fuck you Facebook.
I mean I wish I were cool enough to be selling sex toys. I’m literally just selling a book.
But it got me thinking. This is the world in which we live. It is policies like this that are catalyzed by society’s stigma around sex. It is policies like this that remind me exactly the reason that I published this book.
Nearly two years ago, my travelling book club sat on the floor of the Barnes and Noble on 82nd and Broadway in New York City. We were reeling off our conversation about Hunger, Roxane Gay’s glorious memoir, which if you haven’t read yet I implore you to do so. We felt ourselves vulnerable in the conversation, discussing things that we had never really discussed with each other before. And as an act of courage, we gave ourselves the homework to challenge ourselves deeper. We were each to write 500 word memoirs about our own bodies.
Those first 500 words started off as a joke. Descriptions of a tryst with some man. Jokes about the size of his dick or lack thereof. Talk of orgasms, shakes and squirts. Happy National Orgasm Day by the way yal. But as I wrote and wrote and wrote, I found myself thinking wow, I actually have a lot to say about this. I could actually write a memoir of my body.
A memoir of my body.
A memoir of my body, is my propensity towards touch, the love language that guides my relationships. It is my tendency to cling, born out of a fear of abandonment. It is an ode to the bodies that helped me discover just what my body is capable of.
A memoir of my body is Flyy Girl by Omar Tyree that taught me how to use my body as a weapon. It is the Players Club that taught me “you got to use what you got, to get what you want!” It’s BET Uncut that taught me how to “head down, pussy pussy poppin” (which I could do for you but my knees don’t work the way that they used to).
A memoir of my body is the lingering male gaze that started once I got boobs in the 5th grade. It’s the “you’re getting thick” with a not at all subtle look of judgement moving up and down my body. It is the unwanted covert caress of an asscheeck by a stranger in the club at the bar at grocery store.
A memoir of my body is being pressured into sex. It is the haze of alcohol that contributes to the ambiguity of consent. It is the self slut shaming I subject myself to when my upbringing outweighs my unlearnings.
A memoir of my body is an amalgam of my Black girl hypersexualization. That is the truth. And that truth is as joyous as it is infuriating
That truth is shaped not just by my individual experiences, but the history and culture of my people. It is the age old stereotypes of Black people being sex beasts who cannot control themselves. It is modern day respectability politics that encompass Black people’s attempt to distance ourselves from our sex-engulfed stereotypes and to present ourselves acceptable to the white eye.
That truth is shaped by the “don’t be talking about family business in public” attitudes that shaped my childhood. I was taught to be private, to hide aspects of myself from others for the sake of upholding an image of respectability. Yet, it wasn’t just in public that I was forced to deny parts of myself and my experience. It was also the emotionally unhealthy habits that shaped my Black upbringing. I was punished for being honest when i talked about the wrong thing in public. I was punished for being sincere when I showed the world that I had any other feeling than happy. I was punished for being authentic when my authenticity did not align with the respectable image that my socialization had crafted for me. I was punished for being me.
My truth, my reality is complex. But that does not mean that I do not have the ability to change it.
It was one thing to write my memoir, it is a completely different thing to be sharing it with the world. I was not sure that I would publish this project until February of this year. I knew I wanted to finish it, but my internalized stigma, my fear of vulnerability, and my fear of my own truth stood in the way of sharing my story with the world. A story that isn’t perfect, but a story that others can relate to. A story that is filled with bad decisions, but a story that I hope others can learn from. A story that is about society, but is ultimately about me.
So as I stare back at this computer screen, and roll my eyes at facebook. I start to get excited about this event and my opportunities to change the narrative by sharing my truth.
Let’s talk about sex. And now just eeee-a penis. Let’s TALK about sex.
Tonight we are going to TALK. We are going to get hot and heavy on this here National Orgasm Day. We are going to learn from and relate to each other. We are going to be inspired. And perhaps, get a little bit closer to a society where sex is not stigmatized.
What is your truth? What is your story? Will you examine it or leave it unprocessed? Will you contextualize it with history, culture, and institutions or will you live in your own imaginary bubble. Will you share it or will you deny the world your perspectives, your opinions, your experiences?
When we reflect on our behavior and effectively humble ourselves. When we acknowledge the hurt that we have experienced and the harm that we have inflicted on others. When we recognize the structures that shape our individual experiences. When we share our learnings, our stories, our truth. We can change the world.
Let the truth set you free.
You can buy a copy of To All The Places I’ve Had Sex Before on Amazon.
Get to know more about LAUX here: Website. Facebook. Instagram. Publicly Sexy.
