My loyalties as a reporter have always lain with the truth; to explore into the deepest parts of society to find those precious kernels of honesty that truly define who we are. Often this entails seeking out the most elusive of people, searching through back alleys, and scouring the corners of the earth.

My latest search was for one of the most mythical people I had sought yet; the female masturbator. It’s common to hear jokes or comments about male masturbation, but once the subject of female masturbation comes up, every woman in the room clams up faster than you can say “dildo”. My ambition was not only to find such a creature, but to learn the beginnings, the habits, and most importantly, the reason for the mystique surrounding the female masturbator.

My search took me far and wide. No matter how many women I asked, all denied having ever masturbated. I would try to lighten the mood and crack jokes about flicking the bean, but the only time the response was laughter was when men were present. The women would shift in their seats and turn varying colors of red, but none would admit to such deeds. I had exhausted my search and had given up hope, when on a July morning, as the sun’s rays came bursting forth, I found her. She lived in my hometown, our meeting was inevitable. I set up the interview for the following weekend. It was to be conducted in an abandoned house nearby, free from the peering eyes of others. She felt no need for the privacy, proud of her sexual habits; it was I who insisted on the private location. I tried to tell myself that the privacy was my way of protecting her, but deep down I somehow knew the privacy was for me.

We scheduled to meet late in the evening. I came armed with nothing but a recorder, coffee and a small lantern to light the way. When I arrived at the house, she was nowhere to be seen; the door was open from scores of teenagers breaking in. I stepped over the threshold and into a small living room. The room was simple and perfect for our purposes. The paint was cracked, and dust lined the interior. Scattered about were beer cans and other signs of those before me. An old table sat next to a dirty window facing the east. I took a seat and set up camp. I had just poured my first cup of coffee when I heard a noise at the door. I turned to look but nothing had changed. When my head returned forward, she sat there facing me. It took every ounce in me not to scream. Years of journalism had prepared me for how to react to shock. Where did she come from? How did she get across from me? These thoughts raced through my mind. Keeping my cool, I calmly thanked her for coming and asked if she would like a cup of coffee. She only looked back at me, mirroring my movements and expression. Part of me expected the oddities, after all she was a myth, like the unicorn or mermaid. Other parts of me screamed to run, as if deep down I knew that when I left this interview things would never be the same again. I informed her that I would be recording the interview. She nodded in approval, and the interview began.

Me: My readers would like some background information on you. A female masturbator is a very unique thing. Tell me a little about yourself such as age, occupation, and residency.

Her: All in good time. For now, let’s focus on what we really came to talk about.

Me: I see you’re direct, much like me. Tell me how you became a female masturbator.

Her: I began masturbating before I even knew what it was. I was maybe 7 or 8. I remember it feeling good if something rubbed between my legs. Since it felt good, I would do it.

Me: Was there an evolution to your masturbation techniques, or were you simulating sex from the beginning?

Her: (Slight chuckle) Like I said before, I didn’t even know what sex was to simulate. I just knew that certain things felt good. There was definitely an evolution. In the beginning, I would lie on the ground with something between my legs and hump. I think what started it was a bean bag chair. I would lay on it, belly down, and the beans would gather between my legs. If I shifted my body down, it would create pleasure, and it would feel amazing. I would rub until I had sore spots. I didn’t know why; I just knew I loved the feeling. For years, I went on like this. It wasn’t until years later, around the age of 12, I learned from the older kids what “sex” was. I knew that a man would insert his penis into a woman. Before this, it had never occurred to me to insert something. I began with small things like cotton swabs, and eventually worked up to markers. It wasn’t until I was in college that I bought my first vibrator.

Me: Tell me about this experience.

Her: By the time I had actually worked up the nerve to buy one, I had wanted one for some time. I had been at a gag shop in the mall that also sold vibrators. I noticed one on clearance. Too nervous to buy it, I went home. For the rest of the day, I continued to think of the vibrator. The next day I went back to the store; I was embarrassed and terrified at the same time. Somehow, I knew that everyone knew why I was there. I walked around the store trying to figure out how to handle the situation. Vibrators were dirty things; I didn’t know anyone who owned one. I decided to pick out a gift bag first, that way the cashier would think it was a gift. I grabbed a bag andthe vibrator, and went straight to the register. Once the vibrator was in hand, I wanted to be out as soon as possible. Once I got home, the shame was gone, and the excitement of what I had set in. I closed the blinds in my room and opened my new vibrator. As you can imagine, the rest was orgasmic.

Me: So as a female masturbator, you feel embarrassed?

Her: Sometimes I have trouble admitting who I am. The times that I have felt embarrassed are because others shamed me from doing it. I can remember being caught masturbating as a child. Instead of being told what I was doing and that it was natural, I was shamed and told what I was doing was dirty. This never stopped me, it only made me feel guilty. It wasn’t until I was older that I accepted that what I was doing is natural, and the shame lifted.

Me: If you had a daughter and caught her masturbating what would you do?

Her: I would explain to her that masturbation is a completely natural thing and nothing to be ashamed of. We all have a sex drive, and it should be explored. I’m a firm believer that if parents were honest with their children about sex and masturbation, instead of making it shameful or secretive, teenagers would be more responsible with sex. If girls felt fine pleasing themselves, they would feel less of a need to find pleasure in other methods. The more informed, the more opportunity to be responsible.

Me: So you advocate that other women should masturbate?

Her: ABSOLUTELY! Masturbation is 100% natural. There is nothing to be ashamed of. As women, we should embrace our bodies and the ability to please ourselves. If we cannot please ourselves, how can we reasonably expect someone else to know how to?

Me: Do you know other female masturbators?

A large smile spread over her face as the first morning rays came over the horizon and pierced through the sky. With the new light, it took a moment for my eyes to adjust. The chair across the table was empty. I sat looking at my reflection in the dirty window. I realized, at that moment in time, I had been alone in the house the whole evening. I was the female masturbator. Years of social constraint had made me uncomfortable to admit who I was. I was the same as all those uncomfortable, blushing women I had asked. As the sun began to come in full bloom, I realized that my earlier suspicion had been correct, I would never be the same. I had taken my first step; I admitted to myself that I was a female masturbator. From here, I would admit to others and not give in to the shame placed on female masturbation. Never again would I be embarrassed of my love of masturbation.

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(Or how I learned to ignore the cultural idea of beauty and find my own)

As a child, I was only told what really matters is how you look on the inside. Well I hate to say this, but it’s a load of shit. This is a great idealism, but when you get down to reality it is just not true. We have created a cultural ideal beauty that none of us can stand up to. At some point or another, all of us have been insulted based on our outer appearance. Why is this? I don’t know, at some point we started striving for perfection, and in the process, lost a realistic view of ourselves and who we are.

Even those we photograph for magazines no longer meet this standard; images are altered at an alarming rate just to achieve this idea of beauty. This has to change, it is counterproductive. We spend so much time chasing this impossible dream of perfection, that we are missing out on who we are and celebrating our differences. I implore, no I demand that we change our ways. Like many great changes this one must start with a declaration, a manifesto, if you will. The following are the new guides to beauty that I will follow, and I urge you to follow and spread as well. All cultural change must start somewhere so why not here and now?

• I will no longer debase myself with words like ugly, fat, dumb, or anything else negative. If I feel that I need a compliment from others, I will openly ask for one. This is not a weakness. We all need support at times.

• I will no longer refer to others with words like ugly, fat, dumb, pale, or anything else conceived as negative. Instead of putting others down to feel good about myself, I find good things we have in common.

• When I hear others debasing others, I will have the courage to ask them why they feel the need to do so? I will not stand by idly and let this ridiculous idea of beauty perpetuate.

• I will not support media that festers this unhealthy idea of self-image. I will recognize that losing 50lbs in a week is impossible, and not give them my money.

• When judging weight, I will look at it objectively. Do I need to lose 10 pounds to look more like a model, or do I need to lose 10 pounds for my health?

• I will promote honesty. If someone asks how something looks, I will give them an honest objective answer.

• Last but most important, I will take the time to look around me and notice that the people around me do not look like the cover of a magazine. I will redefine my own idea of beauty to a realistic one, based on those around me, finding beauty in all the variety and differences people have.

This is my manifesto. Edit it to make it your own. Spread the word, so that we can end this insane cultural concept of beauty. If this is spread far and wide, perhaps one day we will be able to say beauty is what is on the inside. Until that days comes, we must be diligent not only with others but most importantly to ourselves. We must find our own beauty, and not be led, like cattle, to believe that just because we look realistic we are ugly.