An Update in Four Parts

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Rainbows have always been important to me. Refraction, infinity, fluidity. These things represent my spiritual essence. So when I keep reencountering the metaphor of a prism, I look into it. The next few entries will be fragments of self that may not always constitute the whole, but are cosms of the places and times I’ve been since my last post. Section II comes with a heavy content warning about abuse of all kinds as I am finally coming out with specific ferocity. So here we go.

I’m going to type as fast as I can without regards to spelling, grammar, or typos right now because there is just too much to say and my fingers will never be able to capture my racing thoughts. This blog post is going to be in four-ish parts or I might just separate them into different blog posts all together. I’m not sure yet (re-reading and editing…I’m still not sure). I just know I need to get this down. I feel like I have a Ouija board smacking me in the face with some choir of spirits screaming ALL SIGNS POINT TO YES! DO THE THINGS! I know I’ve been gone in more ways than one. I know lots of you are aware of this and the reasons to some extent. I know some of you may not know I even existed. Perhaps some of you wish my blog would stay gone forever but sorry (not sorry). Sometimes I just need to get shit out as a means of benefitting myself and possibly others in the process.

breathe do writing

 

I.

Why did I stop blogging? A lot of reasons, mostly related to my over-aggressive methods of addressing recent problems in my life as a projected effort to ignore some long, LONG-standing traumas in the rest of my life. I became so overwhelmed and obsessed with the blogging world, one I never truly felt a part of, or perhaps, DID feel a part of but in my own brand of outcast. Like everywhere else in my life, whether social, educational, whatever, I know I can be intimidating. I know I’m brutally honest but also understandably hard to trust. I know I wear my insecurities strangely and that makes some folx uncomfortable. I’m not an entirely likeable person but I’m also not so self-centered to think that any of this makes me unique.

There are bigger issues in the world right now than worrying whether I fit into the sex blogging community. I get affirmations here and there from other bloggers, industry leaders, people I respect immensely, and for me, that is more than enough to sustain my passion. I DO need money. I DO need affiliations and free products to review but I’m also going to get back to my original motivations rooted in ethical transparency. When I disappeared from the blogging world I also blocked Twitter on my computer and phone. My Instagram is a blend of my personal and professional lives so I still felt adequately represented on that platform even though I know it’s been an absolute shithole of censorship for a lot of people.

I’m writing this post now in OpenOffice on my dinky little Macbook I used to keep at work for my “Tools for Wellness” and “Holistic Healing” workshops. It was the laptop I used to bring to Widener, and it’s been through a LOT of shit. I’m taking it back as my own. I’ve been terrified to open up my blog. I peek in the “Admin” section here and there to fix broken links but I don’t bother to look at analytics, even when Google reminds me I’m still getting at least 700 hits a month. I mainly don’t want to go back to my blog because of an icon. One little fucking icon affiliate link that opens up Pandora’s Box with regards to my entire hiatus. An affiliate some bloggers banned, some openly exposed for their shitty practices, and then radio silence. I’m complicit too. I may have disappeared, but I could have taken the affiliate link down on my way out.

August into September was a difficult but really strong opportunity for the sex industry in all its fields, bloggers, educators, workers, ‘ologists,’ to come together and have honest, open, raw dialogue about what it’s like when capitalism compromises our own values. To consider what happens when companies throw us just enough money, muddling our subconsciousness and long-term goals. To ask how much we are willing to sacrifice of our own selves for a piece of the pie, or cockburger, or hot dog, whatever. People were vocal, big names, small names; the Tantus bullshit was not isolated and the ‘incident’ opened up a floodgate for folx to air out their grievances with the company only to get repeatedly shut down by the company itself or even fellow bloggers.

We all have complicated relationships with companies and leaders because at some point they did earn our respect, otherwise why would we bother associating with them? But people fuck up. People hurt people, whether intention equals outcome or whether folx are generally that oblivious to the consequences of their actions. And although the flamewars and often really engaging conversations about privilege sparked an energy in me, I also was consistently shut down. Sometimes literally so, with a Twitter inbox full of folx telling me I was “too angry,” asking me to pipe down, asking me to stop poking the bear, and “for the sake of bigger bloggers going through a tough time” (aren’t we all?), to check my tone.

What happened with Tantus got reduced to a diluted 101 of “call-outs versus call-ins” and it left industry leaders unchecked. The echo chamber of bloggers attacked one another whether outright or in veiled measures. Tantus’s controversy bled perfectly into overall problems with the Woodhull Foundation and the Sexual Freedom Summit, which was apropos and also intense. Voices on disability, socio-economic status, and race began talking about the spaces never made for them or the spaces deliberately closed off. Blog posts came out left and right about how Woodhull fucked up. Twitter feeds. SPREADSHEETS. We did our homework (financially uncompensated, of course). And like Tantus, the issues got shanked.

When a dear friend told me they would be attending Widener’s CareersCon this fall, all I could say was “WHY?” I have been so outspoken about how incredibly fucked up Widener’s Human Sexuality program is, to the point of telling new Masakhane interns every semester NOT to go and specifically why. My friend still went to the conference and unsurprisingly had a really fucked up experience. One of the newest interns for Masakhane is at Widener now and again, surprise, she is absolutely miserable and wishes someone had warned her.

I know I learned the hard way by making my own choice to enroll at Widener when I had three post-grads (two who were still teaching there to get out of student debt) tell ME not to go. But I didn’t listen. People listen in their own ways. I could shout from the rooftops how fucked up certain companies and communities and institutions and organizers are and what I’ve realized is sometimes people just need to figure it out for themselves and the best I can do is be here to support them when they get burned.

People who once tweeted about negative experiences with Tantus are still supporting and reviewing their toys. People who spoke out about their own negative experiences at Woodhull are already planning their trip this year. I know it’s not all cognitive dissonance. I know some of us REALLY do need the money, the connections, the networking, to get our names out there and sometimes we truly have no choice but to turn away from the truth for the sake of a clear conscience. But trauma happens. Over and over again. If you are not part of the solution you are part of the problem. We say that all the time but in the end, they’re just words.

Like Ericka Hart said, folx that retweet and reblog and talk about passing the mic to marginalized communities, think about how you do that. Who is at the focus? Is it still about you? What are your intentions and what power structures are you reproducing by your seemingly reparative actions? When you aim to support, are you doing it because it makes you look or feel more whole or are you actually unconditionally sacrificing something to a cause greater than you’ll ever understand?

https://www.instagram.com/p/BtdyXSUAEJ-/

I STILL meet colleagues going gaga over companies like Lelo or Bad Dragon not knowing their histories. Folx believing that they are woke because they know “other” companies like Adam and Eve sell shitty toys. We all have our measuring sticks of how aware and proactive we can be for the right causes. But the education forever needs to happen, and the communication is clearly failing somewhere along the lines if we’re still not all on the same page. I know I can only hold myself accountable but I also implore you in whatever work you do to do the same. I wholly appreciate bloggers and educators willing to organize their negative experiences for others to internalize and learn. Caz has some mindblowing spreadsheet skills. Piph has the “Shit List.” Lilly has a black list.

They’re all worth a read, even if I conflate my own personal issues with Lilly as she has been one of the reasons I’ve felt so unwelcome in the blogging world. I’ve had so many other bloggers tell me to please keep “that” under wraps even though they’ve also had similar experiences. I’ve had it out with Lilly time after time, so it’s not a matter of passively or aggressively airing out our differences in this post. She knows my issues with her. I’m not here to prove in minute detail all the bullshit she has put me through, but I will say that regardless of how rude Lilly has been towards me personally, her content is valuable and I’ve never second-guessed linking to her blog because it’s still one of the best out there.

screenshot in 2016 highlighting conflicts with the blog squad
I took this screenshot of my OWN content in 2016 because I knew I’d need it someday. Of course, I got shit on for violating #BlogSquad privacy. Left the Slack soon after.

My situation with Lilly is an example of how I assume a lot of these value-compromises and rationalizations go with bloggers or anyone in the fields of sexuality when folx realize one of their colleagues has an unsavory demeanor but also produces great content. I’m not supporting who she is but I absolutely support what she does. I think sometimes those two things CAN be mutually exclusive. But when it comes to institutionalized organizations where the privilege hides in passing the blame and never taking responsibility for harm, there is no distinction between act and identity. You are just an asshole and you don’t deserve my business.  I WILL, however, scream angrily into the void even if I’m told I’m unreadable or unapproachable…if even one person reads this, it was worth the effort. I also just need to get all of this shit off of my chest because I’ve been harboring a lot of it for a VERY long time.

 

II. (Content Warning: Abuse)

As I’ve vaguely addressed in several posts, social media, in person, etc. I’ve been rocking some really complex PTSD since I was a small child. I systematically dissociate from it in a lot of ways, storytelling as though it never happened to me, completely forgetting it altogether, redirecting my frustrations elsewhere, drinking, getting mired in intellectual theory to keep my heart away from feeling, keeping friends at a distance, and even myself, reproducing similar harms onto others along my life path. I rock a long, LONG history of trauma, abuse, and sexual abuse with a consistent narrative of keeping quiet. When #MeToo started, I psychologically turtled my head so far inside myself I wouldn’t even check in with the news. But you know what? Me fucking too.

#MeToo for the constant bullying and sexual bartering in my brief years at public school for being gay, #MeToo for my ongoing sexual relationship with my eighth grade science teacher, #MeToo for my rapist in undergrad who went on to spearhead the Occupy Wall Street movement, #MeToo for my supposedly polyamorous queer kink triad which was just an excuse to psychologically and emotionally abuse me. #MeToo.  #MeToo to my classmates at Noecker School (did I mention they set my backyard on fire and also egged my house en masse?), #MeToo Kyle Barniak (did I mention the headmistress told me to keep quiet about it so I didn’t “sully” the school’s reputation and then eight years later this happened?), #MeToo Patrick Bruner (did I mention his [sorry “their,” because apparently Patrick is an enby feminist now] dad was a fancy lawyer who tried suing me for going public about it and I got slapped with a restraining order and slut-shamed?), #MeToo Vyvyan (did I mention I still have every screenshot from the horrible things they said to the actual conversation where they admitted to cheating on me and our partner without protection?) OH and the kicker is that Vyvyan is STILL hosting burlesque shows and attending kink parties, just like they did when they were blacklisted from the NYC kink scene for being abusive to several members there. This is how it happens right? People we think of as leaders, as infallible, as responsible enough to own up to their mistakes, they fuck up, but we are still too traumatized to keep calling them out or to expect anyone else to outwardly support our efforts. That Safewords Won’t Save Us workshop from SFS16, that shit was so real.

People will continue to take advantage of our silences by moving on to the next new thing, whether it’s a new dildo (perhaps exploiting gender non-conformity by calling it “they/them”) or a reworked accessibility panel (which STILL doesn’t financially compensate you for your work), or denying the history of a student-led protest (Widener, will you ever explain how the Town Halls REALLY came about?), whether it’s moving to a different town or a different community or brandishing an entirely new marginalized identity, whether it’s going on blogging hiatus or redirecting our attention to whatever new shiny insubstantial thing can distract us from the trauma… it’s all still there.

Scar tissue builds and builds until nerves get numbed and here we are, me rambling with the fear that I’ve triggered someone else’s traumas because that’s not my fucking intention but I still don’t understand HOW to talk about trauma. I’m just tired of being quiet about it. So yeah. This is going to be an entirely separate section of the post. Because while it flows well with the other two in terms of what I’ve been up to, it’s got me in an entirely negative, shaky headspace and I’ve realized I’ve been holding in my urine for three hours writing this so I need to back away for a minute. But it’ll all still be there. It never goes away. Unfortunately for a lot of you assholes out there who hurt me, neither do I. You don’t get my silence anymore.

 

III.

I can’t figure out the order I want to put these blog posts in (edit: figured it out). There’s the one on releasing trauma, the one updating all the beautiful things I’ve been up to, and the review post about companies I sincerely love. I think about all the educators who have done work on sex toys and trauma, especially (Sarah) Formidable Femme’s talk at the last Woodhull and how badly I wanted to go but couldn’t because Lilly was going to be there. Until January I was completely unable to even look at my sex toy rack because at least a quarter of them are either by Tantus or Godemiche (which is another fucked up company for its own gross and shitty actions and how they addressed them). But with time, process, and reflection, I have been using my toys more and more often.

I actually fucked my Tantus Rocket the other day with Mike’s help. I explained what the toy had meant to me and how afraid I was to use it or the implications it could have…how I couldn’t understand why I hadn’t gotten rid of all my Tantus toys to begin with, but then would what I do with them anyway? Donate them to Masakhane’s education chest with a huge laminate explaining the history of the company? Resell them on Reddit’s Sex Toy Exchange knowing that I’d be profiting off of a really fucked up company? I mean, I obviously can’t burn then because they’re silicone. I thought about repurposing them for something, but they’d still be providing me with some form or function tied to trauma.

Audre Lorde said “The master’s tools will never dismantle the master’s house,” but I’m damn well gonna try.

And Mike helped me realize something…I could repurpose them, not by how I used them or what I did with them, but rather reclaiming them as my own. So I orgasmed with the Rocket. I came hard and I sobbed afterwards. It was a sob I had been holding in for so long, a sob I kept quiet and replaced with other sobs, but never one to mourn the feeling of being taken advantage of in such a specific realm of my life. I reclaimed that Rocket just like I’ll reclaim the rest of these toys. And that’s where my healing begins.

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I’ve started contemplating new posts for the blog, one being a review of the @funkittoys Signet for many reasons. When talking to my partner about it I said “This would be my FOURTH Funkit review, is that unbalanced when compared to other companies?” To which he said “Who fucking cares? Kenton is awesome and you respect his ethics, why shouldn’t you show your love and support? You don’t owe anybody ANYTHING.” It was such a huge reminder that my blog started as a means to express myself and my passions, whether it made money or not. I write what I want, how I want, when I want. It’s a privilege AND a right and I damn well intend it to stay that way. #fuckcapitalism #literallytho

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It is also unspeakably validating to have so many products from so many beautiful companies who not only give a shit about what they produce and how, but where their toys go, how emotionally, financially, and physically accessible these toys are, and overall just how deeply they value customers. Freud was a total fuckhead, but he pinged on a lot of really important points regarding trauma and pleasure. What Freud called a “death drive,” aka rather than a will to live/thrive a fear of death/pain. We live in a capitalistic world of fear, of consequence, of loss. Sometimes the choice to be fearless doesn’t go hand-in-hand with a willingness to sacrifice. Sometimes, as in the case of my blog, a willingness to sacrifice and lose everything isn’t so scary when it feels like there wasn’t much to lose.

But companies like Funkit, companies like Blush, companies like PeepShow, these aren’t just companies and dollars to me. These are people. Wonderful, insightful, brilliant and caring people. People who bring love into their work and spread that energy beyond the measurements of commerce. I’m in tears. I sincerely and truthfully adore these people. They took me in when no one else would. They checked on me so much over these last few months, supported me in any way they could, held the importance of my words, reached out about the specificities of my needs…I know it sounds vague and mushy but I am so grateful to be affiliated in the truest sense of the word with these companies.

Kenton sent me a Signet stimulation ring a few months ago and I still can’t get over how multifunctional this thing is. How many forms and uses and the kind of brain and soul that creates something so unique. I put it on a vibrator, I put it on my finger, I used it as a fidget toy for anxiety-provoking situations, I made music with it…the possibilities were and are beyond my understanding and for a human to make a creation like that is mind-bogglingly genius.

Blush’s lines, from eco-friendly to pride-celebrating, from community outreach to an intimate dedication to learn from customers…it’s a testament that a company can get “big” and still keep their hearts invested in growing a positive discourse.

workshop setup
For what it’s worth I REALLY enjoyed running workshops at the store.

PeepShow is near and dear considering the Jersey base. After working at a porn store which exclusively stocked products from East Coast News and Williams Trading Company, I got thrown in the deep end at a very young age with regards to parsing out crap products and crappier politics. I spent 6 years working at Essex Adult Emporium designing workshops and creating zines on how to be your own guide when it came to choosing quality toys. I moved to California to try and start a career with Good Vibrations in 2012. If I had just fucking WAITED, maybe I would have crossed paths with PeepShow sooner, but I’m just glad it happened at all. PeepShow has been so up front about who they are and what they believe to the point where if you go check their “About Us” page, they’ve retained the old mission to statement to show how they’ve grown.

THIS is how you do it. You don’t hide your progress, you keep it in the light for the world to see how the transformation happens. I know talk can be cheap, trust me, I was a total sucker for the PicoBong Transformer Manifesto (interesting that the manifesto has disappeared and it directly links to Lelo now) before I realized their parent company was Lelo. But PeepShow is real. Like, REAL real. And in this industry, being reliable and reputable for going the extra mile is a rare gem for growing companies. Blush, PeepShow, Funkit, they nail it. They find a way to make it their own and leave their unique mark. I’ll never be able to give them enough praise and I’ll never forget the lessons I’ve learned working with them. You folx have given me lemonade, and I humbly thank you for that.

 

IV.

Okay, fate has decided the order for these entries. I tried skipping back and doing the grammatical edits, considering which links I would incorporate, photos (if any), and had to catch myself for dissociating. There is a LOT of feel in this writing. There always has been. I’m known for writing this way, impulsively, off the cuff, vulnerable and honest to a fault, sometimes repetitive and perseverating. But fuck it. It’s me. And if there’s anything I’ve learned this year is that I need to keep being me. Time susses out where my value fits and how I can use it.

My therapist told me in September to quit my shitty job, a job that refused to call me by my preferred name and pronouns, a job that processed me into a very awkward version of myself in drag for the sake of “Guest Service Appearances,” a job that exploited my education and expertise as a psychoeducational therapist by tossing me $12 an hour and pretending I didn’t exist otherwise. A job, I had been told by clients, coworkers, loved ones, and my therapist, that saw me as intimidating for what I knew, what I was capable of, and my different identities.

I quit drinking in October, partly because my therapist emphasized that the reward of a hard day’s work should be a self-actualized sense of accomplishment for “DOING THE THING” rather than external stimuli. Which is problematic, and I’ve told her so. I think a dichotomy of what rewards should and should not look like is a dangerous game to play, but so was drinking.

I covered my bases before quitting. I applied (and got accepted) to the Rutgers School of Social Work, I searched for apartments with Mike and new adjunct faculty positions for the Human Sexuality Department at Middlesex County College, I had a shoulder procedure for a 16-year old SLAP tear, I welcomed a nephew into the world, I was accepted with Masakhane to present at this year’s National Sex Ed Conference in Newark, I reconnected with many old friends who nourished my soul, I bid farewell to my beloved pet snake, I finally booked my first HRT consultation at Proud Family Clinic RWJ Somerset, and as of today, I crawled back into this blog to say fuck you, thank you, I love you (not necessarily in that order or all at once), and life has been full of well, life. The full supermoon was in Virgo last night, and I’m trusting my instincts right now. I’m ready to release and regrow and I haven’t felt an energy like this since August. It’s time.