Why I Do What I do
The year is coming to a close, and it has been an incredible time of growth and empowerment. In 2014, I intend to come out ever more fully, and to attract and serve the people who really want and need what I do. To that end, what you are about to read is my personal why, and perhaps the most important e-mail I have ever written. It is very personal, and describes something that is hard for some people to read, so be forewarned.
Because of my profession, people feel safe to share with me their sexual secrets. This is a gift, and I cherish the fact that I am viewed as a safe, non-judgmental presence. Earlier this year, I met a man who shared with me that he was a registered sex offender, for an incident involving a pre-teen girl. In the moment, I told him that although I could understand the attraction to underage persons, I felt unconditionally that it was up to us as adults to control our impulses and not act on them. That children need to be cherished and protected at all costs, and that even teenagers, while exuding sexual readiness, were not ready for the repercussions of sex with an adult or perceived authority figure. What I didn’t tell him was that when I was eight years old, I was molested by the doorman in our apartment building in Queens. I am in that apartment as I write this, visiting family, and the ghosts have been haunting me, begging for expression in this post.
I can still remember the pink bikini with white frills that I was wearing as I played in the front yard. I remember the smell of his cologne as he pushed me into the corner of the mailroom, and the sight of his penis as he brought himself to orgasm. Whether I told anyone or not is an open question, but I do know that he continued to work there. I was afraid to go through the lobby if I knew he was there. What I took from that experience was that it was not safe for me to be seen in my fullest vitality. If I was visible as a sexual being, I would be wrong, dirty, and subject to violation. My joy, and by extension my sensuality, didn’t belong to me, it belonged to whoever had the power to take it. And for an eight year-old, that is just about everyone.
It took me many years to heal this early wounding. I had to learn to love myself, and my body. I send a big thank you to all those therapists, workshop leaders, and sex educators (and yes ex-boyfriends, and perpetrators) for the journey they have taken with me, and the person it has made me. I now know that my sexuality is a vitally necessary component of my life force. This is why I am so passionate about what I do. Whether a woman has had a signifigant sexual trauma (2 out of 3 women have), or just had the cultural experience of being dominated in relationship, second class, baby maker, subject to all the stereotypes like princess by day/slut by night, she is of my tribe.
The reason I call myself a Pleasure Midwife is because, by connecting a woman to her pleasure, I can help her be reborn as the natural, vital sensual being she was born to be. We no longer have to plumb the pain to grow, either. We can become empowered through discovering our pleasure and following it. We are worthy.
I’ve come to realize that these ghosts challenge my success. Here I am, embodying my sexuality and pleasure for everyone to see. As I become more visible, the ghosts tell me to shrink back and hide in order to stay safe. It is 42 years, and with this letter, I am taking my stand for the next four decades. I am here. My radiance is mine to beam out safely. And I am going to keep on shining, and orgasming, and talking, and I hope that I can be noticed by everyone, so that any woman still living in the shadows of sexual disconnect and shame can come out into the light with me.
It’s going to be a lit-up, pleasure-filled New Year for me. How about you?
