Category Archives: THE TROLLS

The internet has given people the comfort to be disrespectful behind the mask of a device. Most of the time I ignore them but, sometimes you simply have to Slay the Trolls!

SLAVERY DID A NUMBER ON US

It seems like the entire world has come together to show solidarity for the racial injustices that we face, and it breaks my heart to see so many black people still divided.   

From classism, to colorism, to LGBTQIA+ rights, this shit has got to stop. We will never get anywhere if we continue to fight the differences that exist between us. A unified black fist can do severe damage; but, if we remain separate and battle amongst ourselves, a weak ass slap is all we’re delivering to our oppressors. If we genuinely investigate the reasons, we remain divided, it all points back to slavery. And, Boy! Slavery did a number on us.   

Slavery not only stole us from our land, but it also robbed us of our knowledge, our wealth, and our beliefs. Captors of our ancestors pushed lies into their brains, by preaching, to once kings and queens, that they were heathens, and needed to be retrained. They couldn’t handle seeing a brown society living in harmony alone; so, they turned us against one another, made a sale on our lives, and forced us into servitude. The captors of our ancestors raped our men, women, and children; forced sons to mate with mothers; and forced fathers to mate with daughters on breeding farms. If you ever wonder where the phrase “mother fucker” or “put a paper bag over the head” came from, it came from forced incest rape during slavery.   

From field nigger to house nigger, light skin to dark skin, black men versus black women, wealthy black to poor black, and the strongest, the hatred within the black community against LGBTQ+ blacks; the mental fuckery of slavery still runs ripe within our community. Slavery did a number on us.   

Educated blacks can have a logical conversation about colorism and how that affects black people in society and the media. But those same people won’t acknowledge how that tool is still used against each other, by each other. It’s no longer the slave master driving the wedge. They simply planted the seed for hundreds of years, and we’re too brainwashed to stop watering the tree. Both light-skinned blacks and dark-skinned blacks are guilty of continuing to contribute to the division. Let’s be real; if the members of the KKK put on their robes and ran through our communities, neither one would be exempt from the lynch mob. It’s time we stop giving power to an oppressive system and fight the same fight.   

***  

Slavery did a number on us when it robbed us of our riches. We come from kings and queens, so why do we not support our own? Why do we continue to give all of our hard-earned dollars to a system that oppresses us? Why? Because we no longer associate success with ourselves from our lineage of kings and queens, we associate our progress, success, and status with theirs. That is why we give hundreds of dollars to various European designers but ask for discounts with our own. A white Gucci shirt for $200, take my money; but, that same white shirt for $50 from a black-owned company, it’s too much. We don’t take pride in our own, because many don’t see the value in our endeavors.  

I won’t stand on a soap-box and say that I’ve never given my money to a corporation that doesn’t care about my black life. But during these times, when faced with so many injustices, and with so many companies donating toward the fight for equality, we have to do our part. We may not be able to donate millions to the cause, but we can push our dollars back into our communities. So, for myself, I have been and will continue to support my local shops, my local restaurants, and buy black. Stop fighting with our fists, and start fighting with our dollars.   

***  

Slavery did a number on us when I ripped us from our beliefs and forced onto us a god of hate. I saw a meme that read, ‘black people hate everything about slavery, except for religion.’ I decided to attempt to explore that.  

Who were our ancestors, before Christianity came to their land? How did we worship? What did we believe was right and wrong? I’ve asked this question to many god-fearing-Christians, and none of them can ever answer me, because all that they know has been taught to them by their ancestor’s captors. Just think about it, the Bible is simply a collection of stories; but the power interpreted by those stories, by the reader, has caused more harm than good. Think of all the wars waged in the name of religion. Think of all the invasions of civilizations in the name of religious expansion. And when it comes to slavery, the stories in the Bible were used as tools by slave masters to teach blacks that slavery was where they belonged. Hell, the only reason blacks get dressed up for church on Sunday is the tradition of showing off your slaves. As a slave owner, how your slaves looked on Sunday showed your status. So, the better the slaves looked, the more high-class you seemed. And, despite being released from slavery, we held onto that slave mentality. If the Lord indeed said,” come as you are,” you don’t need a large-brimmed hat and new pastel suit to praise.   

***  

Slavery did a number on us when it took symbols and acts of love and procreation and used them to break us down. What is the reason why so many blacks have a problem with homosexuality? We didn’t have the language before slavery. So, why is there so much dislike and hate now? The answer is slavery.   

Simple research will inform you that are places that historically had buck-breaking camps, butt-breaking camps, have the highest level of hatred for homosexuals. Just think of the damage done to a black man, when the white slave owners, or overseers, would rape the men in front of the entire black population. And despite all their resistance, they were forced into submission. Think of how that mentally impacted them for generations. Then, consider how the women and children had to stand by and see their once strong protective man forced into submission. These heinous acts, put on full display for all to see, is why there is such hatred within the black community against homosexuals. And despite finally getting our freedom, our minds remained enslaved.  

For as long as I can remember, I’ve been a proud supporter of the LGBTQ+ community. I was finally able to acknowledge my own (B)Bisexuality in my 30s, despite the fact that I have a very liberal family. I can only imagine the struggles for those whose family is religious and conservative to live their truth. 

Being a member of many Facebook groups, I often find myself in a thumb battle trying to break down the nuances on Black LGBTQ+ rights, and how if Black Lives really do matter, then All Black Lives should matter too (not just the straight black lives). I find myself arguing against comments like; gays have more rights than we do, or they’re forcing their lifestyle on us.  

I tell them that the civil rights for black people and other religions, etc. have been in the constitution since the 60s. Decades later, under Obama, there was an extension to include the LGBTQ+ community at large; but that is not MORE, that’s EQUAL. I tell them that, just because a bill is signed into office does not mean justice will always be served. If that were the case, the country wouldn’t be protesting for black rights 50 years later. I remind them not to conflate the more significant LGBTQ+ movement to be inclusive of the blacks and POCs within the movement. The first gay pride can be credited to two trans-women of color (Marsha P Johnson & Sylvia Rivera). But, the movement of then did not acknowledge trans rights along with gay rights. Sadly enough, the movement today has all but white-washed that history from its beginnings.   

Merely wanting to be free to exist is not a force. Wanting to see like representation in the media, is not a force. Wanting to walk down the street without being harassed or assaulted, is not a force; it is a fundamental human right. And the same goes for being black. You don’t have to like me, but I’m here, so you should respect me.   

***  

Again, black people, slavery did a number on us. But we have to stop giving it power today. We have to stop watering the trees planted by racists. We have to come together and march for every injustice thrown our way; because that’s the only way, we’ll make and see change. 

DEAR AMERICA, SOMETHING HAS TO CHANGE

Dear America,   

I am a black woman, and I am tired.   

I am tired of seeing people that look like me choked, beaten, gunned-down, stop and frisked, over-policed, racially profiled, and murdered. I’m tired of seeing people that look like me receive harsher prison sentences, and I’m tired of seeing people that look like me presumed guilty before they get a chance to prove their innocence.   

Last week the world watched George Floyd die slowly for 8 minutes. One cop held his knee to George’s neck, two others held his body down, and the last one stood by to make sure bystanders didn’t stop the MURDER that was in progress. The cops were called in the first place because a store owner accused him of using a counterfeit $20 bill. I don’t know about you, but that’s definitely not worth an execution by suffocation. George didn’t die because he was hurting anyone, he didn’t die because he killed anyone, he didn’t even die because he used a bill that he may, or may not have known, was counterfeit. He died because the officers of the law that were supposed to protect and serve (whose salaries are paid by the very citizens the abuse) took it upon themselves to be the judge, jury, and executioners. George simply didn’t die; he was murdered because they didn’t give him the benefit of the doubt. He was murdered because, to them, his life, freedom, and rights didn’t matter.   

Year after year and decade after decade, black people are murdered by the very people that are in place to protect us.  

Something has to change.   

***  

Dear America,   

You stole our ancestors from their native land, raped and beat our men, women, and children. You ripped apart our families and made postcards of our dead and burning bodies hanging from trees. You manipulated the words of The Bible to keep us enslaved. You offered us a glance at freedom, then changed laws to re-enslave us all over again, under the 13th amendment. You bombed our homes (Tulsa, Oklahoma; Black Wall Street). You hosed us, burned down our churches, murdered our leaders, and you released dogs on us (Civil Rights Era). You sent us to the front lines of many wars to be killed, for a country that hates us. You ran experiments on us and stole our DNA (Tuskeegee and Henrietta Lacks). You allowed your racist leaders to take off their white robes, put on uniforms and suits, and infiltrate all government levels (google that yourself). You wrote laws that were supposed to be fair and just, but black and brown people often get the short end of the stick compared to their white counterparts.   

This country was built on the backs of slaves. The contributions of African-Americans to this country are immeasurable. From gardening, science, to technology, much of what we all use today is due to an ancestor that looked like me; but you don’t care. 

When we didn’t know the language to speak, you killed us. When we learned to read, you killed us. When we marched peacefully, you killed us. When we fought back, you killed us. When we took a knee, you hated us; and you’re still killing us.   

Something has to change.  

***  

Dear America,  

It’s time for the police and elected officials to be called out and held accountable for sitting on the sidelines and allowing so many injustices to happen. As a tax-paying citizen, I have a right to walk down the street and feel safe knowing that my skin color will not be a reason I may not make it home.   

Well, what about black on black crime? You ask. — Here’s the deal. — If Pookie from across the street murders Ray-Ray, Pookie is getting arrested, tried, and convicted. Pookie will not be able to say, “I thought I saw a gun” or “I feared for my life,” then go home to a meal with his family.   

There is a lack of justice when the murder is committed by a person who wears a badge. And in more recent cases, had a badge, or is a friend of someone with a badge.   

Ahmaud Arbrey was going for a run, minding his own business, when three racists (retired officers) took it upon themselves to consider him a criminal worthy of being shot; because they claimed, he fit a description. This murder happened in February, but the local department and the elected officials felt no need to question their motives. Only after the video was leaked, and social media rained down a fiery hell-storm, were the men arrested. It later surfaced that there was no report out or description.  

A coward of a man murdered Trayvon Martin. That man left the safety of his vehicle, pursued Martin on foot, called 911 (and the dispatcher told him, he didn’t need to pursue him). He continued to follow Trayvon and started an altercation that ended with him shooting and murdering Trayvon. And despite his prior history of being prejudice, despite the fact that he initiated the entire incident, despite the fact that Trayvon Martin was defending his own life (with his bare hands), his murderer was found not guilty. Because the law said that, all that matters was a few lost minutes of a fight. And because the murderer may have experienced fear (during a fight he caused), he walked away, a free man.    

Something has to change. 

***  

Dear America,   

Officers and people with badges have to stop using fear as an excuse when they take an innocent life. The fact that cop after cop fears for their life, over a gun that is, often, never there means one of two things. Officers need to get their eyes examined, so they can be sure that what they see is a gun, or they should go back to school to pursue a different line of work. If defending a community of people is too scary for you, go back to school and become an accountant or a dentist. I’m tired of people in uniforms that carry badges, are armed with a taser, a baton, and a gun using fear as an excuse for the murder of an unarmed black or brown person. I’m tired of these same people in uniforms, having little to no fear when the perpetrator is white. They could’ve just shot up a school, a church, or a synagogue, but, for some reason, the fear the officers had when the perpetrator was black, disappears into thin air.    

Why are cops able to apprehend a white mass-shooter, for them to have their day in court. But a black man coming out of a night club (Sean Bell), a kid playing in the park (Tamir Rice), a black man selling a cigarette on the street (Eric Garner), and so many more, are not worthy of the same due-process?  

Early in May, a white man (Joshua Kelsey), who had multiple run-ins with the law since 2007, and had been in front of numerous judges, went on a killing spree and murdered three individuals. The details on how they apprehended him are still unclear. But you know what didn’t happen, they didn’t murder him. Despite killing three people, he’s still alive to see his day in court.   

And here are just a few more that fit the same profile.  

Marjory Stoneman Douglas HS in Parkland, Florida; 17 dead, suspect arrested and charged with premeditated murder.  

Walmart in El Paso, Texas; 22 dead, suspect arrested and charged with capital murder  

Tree of Life Synagogue, Pittsburgh, 11 dead, suspect arrested and faces multiple charges  

Santa Fe High School, Texas; 10 dead, suspect arrested and faces capital murder charges  

Emanuel African Methodist Episcopal Church, South Carolina; 9 dead, suspect arrested, tried, and sentenced to death.  

These above, white murderers, were led away from the incident with their lives intact, despite the lives they had just stolen. Where is the fear when the threat is undeniable? And why are officers so scared when the only danger of a weapon is all in their heads?  

Something has to change.  

***  

Dear America,  

Like I said in the beginning, I’m tired of seeing the gross amount of injustice. I know that it is not all cops, but if you’re silent and complacent with the officers that are corrupt and go too far, you’re guilty by association. I know that not every elected official and politician is corrupt. If you don’t address the issues of all people within your jurisdiction, or don’t do your part to set right the wrongs that happen, you’re guilty by association. Lastly, I know that not every white person is prejudice or racist. From my work to school, to my extracurricular groups, and in my dating life, the white people that I know empathize with the difficulties we face while being black; they also want to see a change.   

But, here’s the problem, if you don’t acknowledge the terrible things done to our people, and you don’t want to learn, your complacency is a problem. If video surfaces of an unarmed black person being held down and beaten by cops, and your first response is, “We don’t know the whole story,” you’re willful and blind arrogance is a problem. If you commented on riots and looting, but said nothing about George Floyd’s death, that the world is outraged by, that’s a problem. If, after everything, you still don’t understand why Colin Kapernick took the knee. You’re a problem, and I don’t know what else to say.  

It’s up to lawmakers and elected officials to make changes and hold others accountable for their actions and poor judgment. It’s time for all of us to ban together and put our collective knee on the neck of the government to push for change. We pay their salaries, so we have the power; we just have to learn to wield it. Here are a few suggestions.  

  • Let’s work to rebuild trust between the community and the officers within the community.   
  • Let’s stop trying to find excuses, and start prosecuting killer cops.   
  • Mandate periodical psychological evaluations and drug tests.   
  • Perform thorough background checks on all officers.  
  • Make it illegal for an officer not to have a body-cam and a dash-cam (on and functioning) in all 50 states.  
  • Re-train and remind officers that they work for the people, and they’re paid to serve the people.   
  • Train all officers in all 50 states, to respond with the least amount of force.  
  • Start making the officer and their precincts responsible for the crimes they commit against unarmed and innocent civilians. If officers know they’ll be liable and they can’t hide behind a badge and a lie, they’ll start thinking before they shoot.    

The change doesn’t stop there. Beyond the officer, above the precinct, sits the elected officials. It’s time for them to be responsible for their lack of action as well. Your mayor, governor, senator, congressperson, etc.. Again, your tax dollars pay for their salaries, so they work for you. When the headlines shift, the work must continue. Organize a petition, write, call, show up at your elected official’s office, and push for a change. If they appear complacent with the tragedies you and your community face, vote them out and elect someone else. Do not sit by silently and wait for the next headline or election to get in the fight. For too long, the oppressed have been playing defense and losing. Now, it’s time to ban together, execute a plan, and play offense; because I’m tired of being on the losing team.   

Something has to change.  

Sincerely,   

A tired black woman. 

WHAT IF…

A few years ago, I found my first herpes support group on Facebook, and on the façade, it seemed very supportive. Messages of “Keep your head up!” Be strong, you’ll find someone!” and “It wasn’t meant to be.” seemed to flood the daily feed. Even though I knew I wasn’t the only person living with herpes, it was great to finally see and hear other people’s stories. The overall morale of the chats was positive and uplifting, which for a newly diagnosed individual can be essential. However, every so often, I would come across a post asking for advice and support.   

I feel terrible, and I need your advice. Last week, I was drinking, partying, smoking (whatever) with my friend. Things got out of control, we had sex, and I forgot to tell them about my herpes status. I feel terrible, and I want to tell them, I just don’t know how to.  

It didn’t take long for me to realize that once the comments have been disabled, it was safe to assume that the poster was virtually attacked. Similar posts often bring out, what I like to call, The Bully-Brigade. The Bully-Brigade is the barrage of people that come together to virtually bully anyone whose actions and views don’t align with theirs. With comments like, “You’re a terrible person.” “How could you forget…” and “People like you should be locked up!” — The Bully-Brigade has struck again.  

The comments and attacks vary, but the one that sticks out the most is the one of blame. It’s the person that says, “You know, many of us wouldn’t be here if our partner had told us. If my partner had told me that they had herpes, I never have had sex with them. You should’ve given them a choice.”   

This one always bugs me, because they so conveniently forget that they, in fact, did have a choice. To have consensual sex, without knowing your partner’s sexual health status, was a choice. The power to control the sanctity of my body is my responsibility, and the same for your body. Do you not eat when you’re hungry, drink when you’re thirsty, or sleep when you’re tired? So, why when it comes to sex, is it only the other person’s responsibility to protect you? I don’t say this to point blame, I say this to take accountability.  

Think of your body as a new car you just bought. You wouldn’t give the keys for your new car to a person whose driving record you didn’t know and whose license you haven’t seen, would you? No! You wouldn’t! But if you did, and they crashed it, was it not your choice to hand your keys over to them, in the first place? We don’t take that risk with material things, but we assume that risk with our bodies every day. From the moment I laid eyes on my partner, once I know I want to have sex with him, the responsibility to ensure my sexual health is mine, and mine alone. It was my responsibility to make sure that he posed no threat to me, and the choice I made to not verify his status was, in fact, A CHOICE.   

Over the years, I learned to stop arguing with The Bully-Brigade; because they had already made up their mind that their positive diagnosis was someone else’s fault. What I try to do now is pose the question, what if…  

You say — “If they had told me they had herpes…” I pose the question — “What if you had asked…?”  

What if they told you they were clean, because the test they took didn’t include herpes? Therefore, they had no way of knowing they had the virus.   

What if they had the test that included herpes, but because they recently acquired the virus, the antibody test came back negative? (It took 9 months for my antibodies test to detect herpes).  

What if you had used condoms? (I used condoms when herpes was transmitted to me).  

What if they told you they had a history of cold sores? Marketing doesn’t make it clear that cold sores and herpes are the same virus. Many people don’t think that their cold sores are herpes or that they can impact their partner’s genital region. What if this information was made clear to the masses?  

What if doctors did a better job of educating patients before, during, and after their diagnosis? What if they pointed patients to support groups after their diagnosis, instead of giving them a prescription and sending them on their way?  

What if sex education was clear and transparent, and inclusive of all sexual behaviors, sexualities, and sexual health? What if consent and boundaries were mandated? What if the stigma was never able to exist because people were educated on the truth of all sexually transmissible and non-sexually transmissible viruses?  

What if testing were made easier for all to access? What if when I asked to be tested for everything, I was tested for EVERYTHING?  

What if we stopped shaming sex, sexuality, and people with STD/STIs?  

What if you’re herpes positive, you disclose to your partner, but you don’t ask to see their results in return? (Is that not, once again, handing someone the keys to your car without checking their license, all-over again?)  

What if asking about a person’s sexual health was as easy as saying hi? What if asking to see a person’s test results (and getting them), was as easy and pleasurable as having sex?  

What if they never assaulted me?  

What if the dad, the aunt, the uncle didn’t kiss the toddler, and pass them the herpes virus?  

What if the mother didn’t kiss her child and pass them the herpes virus?  

What if you had waited another 3-9 months to get re-tested before having sex?   

What if you had waited to go and get tested together?  

What if you had asked your partner their sexual health status?  

While the what-ifs are endless, none of them can guarantee that you still wouldn’t have ended up with herpes virus. With all the precautions that you could’ve taken in your adolescent or adult life, you still could’ve acquired the virus before ever taking your first steps. At the end of the day, we’re all here. So, instead of focusing on what if, focus on the future. A lot of why we feel what we feel is stigma. So, instead of trying to change others, maybe we can change our perception. And with that, we can change the stigma. 

POSITIVELY DETACHING

There is much joy to be found when I detach from the world. Of course, I never fully detach, but going a few hours without looking at a device does have its benefits.  

It was a summer day, a few years ago, and I wanted to get out of the house. I got on the train, walked around a bit downtown, went to see a movie; then my phone died. To my surprise, I didn’t care. I ended up getting dinner at a Vietnamese restaurant and walking some more, before I took the bus home. Even with the mediocre actions of the day, I still remember it as one of the best days I had. When my phone died, there was no anxiety to get to the nearest charger, and with no need to check in; I just went about my day.  

Today, I won’t leave my house unless my phone is above 95% and before walking out of the door, I make sure my phone is on low power mode, just in case. My life, like many others in this day and age, revolves around devices. From using my computer at work, to listening to a podcast or playing a game during my commute on my phone. I don’t know what it’s like to not have a phone on me. There have been a few times when I left my house, and made it to the train, only to go all the way back home when I realized my phone was not with me. I refused to listen to the conversations of other commuters, or eat my lunch without visual stimulation. And let’s not forget my daily Instagram upload, because my followers would be lost without me.  

In the fall of 2019, my life almost ended. I went to sleep with my phone plugged in and I woke up to my phone only being at 25% I figured the wire came undone in my sleep, so I plugged it back in and prepared to get ready for work. When I got out of the shower it was at 20%, I got so frustrated I started to cry. I went to work and experimented with various chargers, cords, wireless pads, and none of them worked. I watched as my phone went from 5 to 1, and when my phone died, I felt like my life was over. That day I missed lunch because I was at the apple store trying to get it fixed. That night I went to a Broadway show; but I couldn’t fully enjoy it because all I could think about was my phone. The next morning, I went to the AT&T and send for a replacement that had to be ordered. When the doorbell rang Saturday morning, I ran downstairs. I didn’t even grab my precautionary knife from the drawer, in case it was an intruder. (Yes! I watch way too many cop shows). None the less, I opened that box with the same excitement that a kid opens a present on Christmas morning. I charged it up, swapped over my information, and all was right with the world again.  

As I scrolled through my Instagram, Facebook, and emails, I couldn’t help but think back to a simpler time. I thought back to that day in the summer; and there was a peace of mind in knowing that the inability to connect to the digital world is only temporary. It would’ve been easy to get a charger and fuel up, but I chose to enjoy the peace of the silence. However, when that silence was forced upon me, I found no peace.  

I realized then that my connection with devices was unhealthy, to say the least. So, I started limiting my interactions with them, in the best way I knew how. Instead of listening to podcasts during my commute, I would read a book (Yes… an actual printed – book). I read hundreds of books on my phone over the years, but eventually, it took a toll on my vision; and considering I stare at a computer at work all day, anytime away from bright light proved to be highly beneficial.  

The next thing I did was limit the amount of time I spent on social media (Twitter & Instagram). I would allow myself a few minutes every few hours to scroll and like, and once time was up, I had to stop. When it came to Facebook it was a tad more difficult. As an activist, I felt the need to comment on the posts that resonated with me. But I learned to pick and choose my battles, thus limiting my screen time and overall drained energy from random hater.  

The final thing I did was limit the amount of texting and messaging I did; I applied the same logic as I did with Facebook. Not every text required an immediate response, and some things could wait for later. The world would not implode if I didn’t respond yes that instant, and my alone time was very important to me. I had to release the self-induced anxiety from my being, because no one was causing it but me. I can now go hours without looking at my phone and it’s been a huge relief, especially considering that I don’t always want to talk or communicate. I get deep into my moods of self-preservation and my need to personally re-power up on positivity is of the utmost importance. 

I challenge everyone to take some time, every day to detach and see how you feel. 

CHEERS TO THE NEW YEAR (2019 Recap)

Dear 2019, 

I’ll be sad to see you go, but I’ll remember the beautiful times we had. At the stroke of midnight, my family welcomed you with prayers and open arms. We made our traditional “Happy New Year” and “I Love You” calls, drank some champagne, and eventually retired to sleep.  

My first post in 2019, Yay! She’s Back was a story about my vibrator’s love for me. In the summer of 2018, I had made the decision to stop having sex, because I needed to allow my mind and heart to heal from all the heartbreak I had endured in 2018. I needed to re-devote my energy back into myself, and I didn’t want the exchange of negative energy that sex often brings. So, being that the only forms of safe sex are either abstinence and masturbation; writing a story on masturbation seemed quite appropriate. 

Inspired by a member in the support group that I attend; I decided to write and publish my, first ever, post on herpes; The Ex That Never Left. Hitting publish was the hardest thing I did in 2019 and it was the post that would forever shift the tide and purpose of my writing. Being positive for 10 years- ‘it was what it was’ and I operated on a need to know basis. When I started to write my blog, I had no intention to ever discuss herpes. But, I realized that, to be a great writer, meant to be vulnerable and to let people in. I couldn’t continue talking around herpes, I had to call it out and give it a seat on stage; especially if I planned to stand in my truth of sex positivity.  

With herpes out in the open, I was finally able to take bigger steps toward being the writer that I am now. I wrote about my first 3-some experience, in Turn Up while also coming out as bisexual. Because I wanted to experience a woman alone, I went on The Hunt. Unfortunately, I never found a woman or couple that was actually willing to meet up. It became abundantly clear that if I wanted to explore being intimate with women, I would have to step out of my comfort zone and walk into a sex-club.  

In March, after being ‘celibate’ for almost 8 months, I walked into my first sex-club; but it wouldn’t be my last. Being the new honest writer that I was, I wrote all about my experiences in; Corset, Collar, Lingerie 1,2, and 3). In concluding that I was, indeed, bisexual; I also discovered that I deeply enjoyed being an exhibitionist, amongst like-minded individuals.  

It was during this time that I started dating again. However, this time around I was playing by a different set of rules. Over the years of dating, since I was 14; I had experienced my share of heartbreaks. During my time of celibacy, I realized that I had set unrealistic expectations on my partners and they did the same to me. I realized that I dated, like many other people, only for the end game. I missed out on cherishing all the amazing moments because I was only focused on achieving one thing. It was then I realized that, not only was I limiting my capacity and the ability to love; but that I was forcing myself to be someone that I was not. It was then that I decided I would love polyamorously; and in Working The Garden, I dived deeper into my emotions.  

With my mind and emotions finally aligned, I was surprised to see how quickly my sex life got on board. For the first time, in a very long time, I was dating how I wanted, with men whose company I genuinely enjoyed, and the sex was not only good, it was kinky as well. I was finally able to explore sexual acts that I was nervous to explore prior in (Tabooty 1 & 2). 

In June, I discovered an invite-only sex-party; and I slowly became a regular on the scene. I was enjoying my moment of being an ethical herpes-positive individual, and shared it with you in (The Wonders of Coconut Oil 1 & 2). 

By the time August arrived, I had only discussed my herpes status on my blog and with select friends and family. It wasn’t until I wrote into Whoreible_Decisions, and was chosen to be a guest on their podcast, did I finally decide to go fully public. I first told the remainder of my family, I made all of my social media public, and I waited. I was surprise at how many people reached out to me after the episode dropped and I immediately knew that I had made the right decision. Naturally, because I was nervous, I had missed some key pointers, so being that I did have a platform of my own (even though small) I elaborated on some of the things I wish I had said during the podcast, on the blog post Things Unsaid.  

By the end of the summer, I was fully invested in the poly-love style. I had one primary partner that I loved dearly, whom I met at a sex-party; (I Only Wanted Sex: Then you happened) and I was dating three other men. Eventually one of the men realized that dating multiple women wasn’t for him so he ended things; (Tales of a Polyamorous Heart Break), and I, in true fashion, wished him the best.  

I was finally living my life to the fullest; I was building amazing connections, having great sex, and living and loving my truth; (End of My Hot Girl Summer & You Can Have It All)

Surprisingly polyamory was flowing smoothly. The only difficulty I found was having to explain, over and over, to people that weren’t in the lifestyle that Polyamorous Does Not Mean Sex-Addict). Other than that, I encountered no real roadblocks and/or difficulty dating, even while being herpes positive.  

As I write this, I could never have imagined being where I am now.  

After appearing on the Whoreible_Decisions podcast, I’ve been a guest on multiple other podcasts;  Shit! I’m 30 podcast, Something Positive for Positive People, and during my visit to Philly, to see Elton John, I (with my primary partner) were guests on the UnCumfortable w/ Muva Esh Podcast.  

In addition to publicly speaking about herpes on various podcasts; in the early fall I became a member of HANDS (Herpes Activists Networking to Dismantle Stigma). Almost every day I receive a new message from a person that tells me, hearing my story has helped them in some way. Who ever thought speaking publicly about having herpes would help so many people? It was a big step for me to take, but I’m happy that hearing my journey can help others. I offer tips on how to disclose to potential partners How Do I Tell Them. And I use my years of experience and words to combat bullying within the herpes community If Only It Were That Simple. 

In the year 2020 I foresee major changes in my personal life and career. I’m currently working on a book that hopefully will be out in the Spring of 2020. I’m also in the process of writing my memoir; and the future holds more fantastic ventures for me.  

So, I hope that you have enjoyed my 2019 re-cap and I hope you follow me into 2020.  

Happy New Year!!