Nasty Women From The Annals of History! What Do We Do In The Absence Of Sex? Consuming Porn!
As we collectively stare down an official pandemic, a barrel-gun stare that hasn’t been witnessed since 1918, I’m trying to “socially distance” (the pseudo meaningless euphemism heard ‘round the world) even as the only thing that makes me whole or seen or happy is other people. The point is, I’m seeking solace in my memories and daydreams. And of course — like everyone I imagine — I’m thinking a lot about my body.
Are you ever perverted and withholding with your own body?
About four years ago, I moved back to Brooklyn for the summer after a long hiatus and I spent three months purposely sweating.
Every day I’d walk by the glorified, stuffed-to-the-gills bodega on my way home from the subway, and consider the box fans and air conditioners in the window; technicolor poster-board blared out their two-for-one deals in Spanglish, promising respite from the blistering sun.
But I wouldn’t buy one — why?
I suppose it was couched in some kind of desired heartiness of self, but the truth was I had some kind of keen and gauzy interest in the shared misery of that urban decay, the heady wind of urine and garbage and everyone’s thighs sticking to their seats.
I would wake nearly gasping every night, all the mucus in my face entirely absent, the sheets beneath my body soaking wet — my skin audible on the cotton.
I’d dream of fog, of pools, of icy river stones and wet wet kisses, only to wake to my stench in the grey dawn light.
I’d flip the pillow and smile at the insectile hum of the BQE and match my heartbeat to the pigeons cooing in their windowsill filth. I’d think of all the other bodies heaving their way through the hot night wind.
These days I’m trying to channel that same odd solidarity — the impulse to be shoulder-to-shoulder against an enemy, even as I know America has yet to touch to void that so much nations are being devoured by.
In short, I’m thinking of you and yours and hope and wish and wash-wash-wash that we’ll wend our way through this storm with as little fear and sickness and death as we can. Godspeed to all our bodies.
Ever and always,
Katie (+July)
In The Absence Of Sex, by Rebecca Oleander
“Things have always been so complicated. In the three-and-a-half years we spent together, we never had penetrative sex.
He was good to me. I loved him — in a certain way.
Perhaps I was more in love with the comfort of his presence than I was with him. As someone who had never experienced unconditional safety with another human being until that relationship, I was loathe to look any deeper.
We should have been best friends, but we convinced ourselves we were meant to be lovers.”
The Un-Beddability Of Brown Dudes, by Hemanth Nalamothu
“It’s 2020, and South Asian men are reminded they still ain’t sweatable.
It’s generally not a good look when a subset of academia is dedicated to analyzing just how racist your technology is (but that’s a topic for another day). I’m not saying I want to date a racist, quite the opposite actually, but identity is a fraught thing in America right now. Feeling that you are marginalized or discriminated against is bad enough. But empirically knowing that to be true can be pretty damn demoralizing.”
Not Confused, Not Crazy: On Being A Non-Binary Radical Mental Health Advocate, by LD Green
“This DSM document, this tome, this oppressive brick of a book that I have railed against — it almost got something right.
And that shudder of its near miss shook me a bit.
You see, there’s another closet I’m coming out of just this year too. When my book had its cover in the mock-up stage, I saw my old name and winced. My name was wearing a dress. Not me. When I want to shine, I want a bowtie and a vest. Why would I put that wrong name on something I had worked so hard on? No, that’s not right. I thought. Not anymore, and not ever again.”
“I’m Not Addicted To Porn”, by Cole Schafer
“After drinking too much vodka, the sun rises feels like a locomotive running through your head. After eating whatever you want for weeks on end, you may look in the mirror to see a creeping flabbiness, sallow rings around the eyes, and chronic lethargy. And, while these things don’t cause everyone to smoke less or drink less or eat less, they certainly serve as benchmarks for what’s too much.
But, porn?
Since porn is something you can do in the privacy of your own room without a soul in the world to answer to and no proof in the morning that you spent an evening on a full-blown porn bender… well, it makes things wildly difficult.”
Six Nasty Women Worth Remembering On This Nasty Day, by Emily Linstrom
“In 1958, Coccinelle underwent the first publicized sex reassignment surgery, later recalling that, ‘Dr. Burou rectified the mistake nature had made and I became a real woman, on the inside as well as the outside. After the operation, the doctor just said, Bonjour, Mademoiselle, and I knew it had been a success.’”
Coccinelle was henceforth recognized by the French state as a woman, and her first marriage to sports journalist Francis Bonnet became the first known legal marriage of a trans person in France, the only requirement from the church being that she legally change her name to Jacqueline.”
