I just wanted to share how finding sex toys and Edenfantasy has changed my life. I’m going to see if I can sum this up in less than a thousand words. I found Edenfantasys by mistake, and I kept leaving and coming back to this site, but for some reason something kept calling me back. I had always been curious about sex toys but never really acted on buying any. I was always too scared, and extremely unsure of myself. I’ve always loved the subject of sex, but I was ashamed that I did. I didn’t have the best encounters when it came to sex. I suffer from vaginismus, and once I learned it was something that could be treated, I started to become more intrigued with the idea of sex, and sex toys. I watched around the site for months before actually ordering anything. I remember my very first order with Edenfantasys. I had ordered the Super Sex Bullet, and Super Ballsy cock by Doc Johnson.

That was the first time I had ever tried out a sex toy, and I found myself hooked. I hid it from my boyfriend for the longest. It was only because I was scared and unsure what he would think about it. Before Edenfantasys, we never really talked about sex toys, and I never felt the need too. I mean, we walked into a couple of adult stores, but we never got anything. We just looked around and poked fun at the freakishly large dildos. Weeks after getting my first package, I broke down and told him about Edenfantasys, and he took it a million times better than I had ever thought he would. I told him all that I knew at that time about Edenfantasys, about the amazing program, and the reviews. He was kind of disappointed that I felt that I needed to hide this from him, and I felt bad because I didn’t even think he would have even cared.

He supported the whole sex toy thing, and I have to admit it made me look at him in a different light. I guess it was because I was scared, he would think I was a freak for wanting to deal with a site like one such as this, but he wasn’t. He actually came up to me and asked would I use one of them with him, and I was scared, but very happy at the same time. That first time using toys together opened our world up to something, I would have never thought it would have. I even turned him on to a couple of different items on the site.

As I got more involved with Edenfantasys, I realized that it was way more than just an online sex store. I met so many wonderful and beautiful men and women on this site. I met one woman who was open with me, and told me she too had suffered from vaganismus. I had been diagnosed with it, but never looked into seeking help. After talking to her, the following day I found a doctor. I don’t think if I would have ever looked for help if I hadn’t met her. I just would have been dealing with the problem. When I finally met my therapist, I told her about Edenfantasys and she fully supported my involvement in this community, and she thinks I should never let go of this.

I’ve met people on here that I’ve told things to that I didn’t think I could. I’ve written articles for Eden Cafe that I never in a million years though I could repeat, let alone put it out there for people to read. I’ve shared my secrets, and I’ve learned some new ones. I’ve cried, and laughed my head off with the community of Edenfantasys. I’ve been more open with the people of Eden, almost more than I’ve been with myself. Reading people’s posts in the forums, and just talking to them. I would have never built up the strength to write my abuser, and tell him how I really felt. Eden has helped me grow in ways I didn’t think were possible. This wonderful community has taught me to hold my head high, and to love myself and all the things that excite me.

I’ve opened my sex life to wonderful and beautiful things; my boyfriend has even discovered his lust for a good masturbator every now and then. When I’m talking about sex toys or just sex I feel confident, and I don’t really second guess myself. I talk more openly about sex, and don’t feel ashamed. I’m actually extremely proud of what I’ve learned here on Edenfantasys. I’ve fallen in love with different fetishes I didn’t even know existed. I’ve learned to be more comfortable with my sexuality. I’ve learned to be more demanding in bed, and to make sure to get what I need. I’ve learned to not be hard on myself, and that it’s always okay to be a little freaky (in the bed). I’ve met so many people here that have helped me in my life more than they could ever know. I find Edenfantasys to be therapeutic to the soul. It’s one of the few places I can be myself and don’t have to worry how people are going to view me.

Sometimes I think back and think finding Edenfantasys was a work of God. I don’t know where I would have been without them. I don’t know what type of life I’d be living if I had never found them. I know it seems as though I’m giving a lot of credit to the community more than anything. I trying to say that if it wasn’t for whoever created Edenfantasys, this community wouldn’t even existed.

Without the Eden’s point system, I would have NEVER ordered my first sex toys, which lead me to sharing it with my boyfriend, and created another outlet for us to love each other, which lead me to coming back and finding myself. I never would have thought in a million years that I would be where I am today, mentally, emotionally and everything else.

Edenfantasys has even changed my career goals. I had always wanted to become a plastic surgeon, even though I HATE math, I was determined to make it happen. But finding Edenfantasys has changed my mind. I’ve changed my major, and I’ve decided to become a sexual heath therapist. I want to pass on what I’ve learned, and hopefully I can help someone as much as Edenfantasys has helped me and changed my life. I’m happier and more comfortable in my sexuality, and in my whole self. The whole point of me writing this is to say thank you to Edenfantasys and to the community, and to share how you have all impacted my life. Even If we met in some small way, I know that it has made me a better person. It’s the second best thing that has happened to me besides meeting the love of my life.

Prostitution is something I’ve always been curious about. I don’t know why. I guess I’ve always wonder why would someone want to be a prostitute. I’ve actually never known any in my life time. I’ve only ever seen them on the street. I mean, I could understand why someone would love to have sex, but I didn’t understand why someone would want to have sex with just random people where you don’t even know if the name they are giving you are their real names. I’ve always wanted to ask someone why they would WANT to be a prostitute. I did some looking around and found a little information on the subject. I learned they there are many different types of prostitutes.

One late night I came across a TV show called “The Bunny Ranch” or something like that, and it was actually a pretty good show. After my boyfriend and I started talking about it we found we were both at opposite ends of the spectrum. The show is about a legal brothel in Las Vegas. He thought it was wrong, and that it shouldn’t be allowed. I, on the other hand, don’t feel that way. I wish that all prostitutes were able to be in a safe and clean environment like those women were. When he thinks one-way he feels everyone should think like him. So I just ignored him. I don’t know much about prostitution, other than the basics and the point of it. Like anything else that comes into my head, I Google it.

I’ve always been curious about who came up with prostitution, and why would they want to become a prostitute. The most famous prostitute was Jezebel. She was the original working women; she was a prostitute in Jesus’ days. From my knowledge, she was the first ever prostitute. But I was way off, prostitution happened even before her. And I soon learned that prostitution wasn’t always a bad thing. In fact, women loved it because they were offered more than women who weren’t prostitutes.

I soon learned that there are different kinds of prostitutes. There are, in fact, three different types of prostitutes. The first were called pornai. These were slave prostitutes. The second were called “freeborn” prostitutes. The last were called hetaera prostitutes, these were highly educated prostitutes. In all, you had your women that were forced into prostitution, and were slaves. Then you have your average prostitute who was middle to lower class and did this to support herself. Last but not least was your educated prostitutes, these were women who came from good wealthy families, and could appeal to other higher class customers. Now in today’s society, there isn’t really a difference. When you think of a women who has sex for money she is automatically just a simple prostitute. She has no classification to separate her from the next prostitute.

Since I’ve never actually met a prostitute, all I can go on are shows I’ve seen and information on the internet. I had my many questions and these were some of the answers that I found.

My number one question was: do women who prostitute actually enjoy sex, or are they just going through the motions. From most of the information that I’ve come across, not all prostitutes enjoy sex. Just a small amount of them can actually say they love what they do, and those are mostly the ones that are in a safe environment, those who are in other countries. Here in America, most of them hate sexual activity. They feel it’s something THEY HAVE TO DO in order to get paid.

My second question was: do all prostitutes have a history of sexual abuse? With most jobs, whether it’s legal or not, that have to do with sex, other people mostly assume that they have had some type of abuse in their past. I later learned that it’s furthest from the truth. Thirty five percent of prostitutes do have a history of sexual assault before becoming a prostitute. Most prostitutes don’t encounter any type of sexual assault after they have become prostitutes. It’s said that 73 percent reported having experienced physical assault in prostitution.

Why stay in prostitution when the risk of being in danger is so high? Honestly it’s the addiction problems. A lot of prostitutes are women who are either on some type of drug, or have some other type of addiction. Some are forced into it, but the number that is forced into it is just a little lower than the ones who are choosing to be in it.

My last huge question was why have a pimp? Why work so hard for something and give it to someone else? I’ve learned that most of them have a pimp because they are scared. Some are beaten to believe that they need a pimp, that they would end up dead without a pimp. I don’t think I’d fully understand the mind of a prostitute unless I’d talked to one. I wish I could understand why they would do this to themselves. I mean, it is the oldest profession so that has to mean something right?

I personally wish that prostitution was legal. I’m not going to say it’s a victimless crime, but there would be less people getting sick or dying from a sexually transmitted diseases if they were forced to have testing done, and more were pushed into using condoms.

I’ve also been curious to what is keeping prostitution a booming business. It has to do with marriage problems. The majority of costumers that meet with prostitutes are men who have marriage problems. Men whose women keep refusing them in bed for whatever reason. I’m not saying that it’s the women’s fault, but it does take two. You have the men who are having problems, and the women who are willing to please them without saying “NO”.

I personally don’t fully support prostitution, but I do wish it was a little safer. I’ve asked my boyfriend if he would ever visit a prostitute. His first words were, I don’t want to get aids. I’m not going to lie, I did laugh, but that made me think why anyone would want to take that risk. I’m not saying that non-prostitutes don’t have aids, but your likelihood of getting an STD is much higher when sleeping with prostitutes than it is with a random woman you meet at the bar. I’m just putting my personal thoughts out in the open, and I do hope to learn more about prostitution, only because I’m so damn curious about this subject. I don’t think women who choose to be in the line of prostitution should be looked at as different, or down on because of their line of work. I sometimes think you do have to be a strong woman to deal with the everyday life of being a prostitute. I choose to think women who are prostitutes have been dealt a bad hand in life and are doing what they feel they need to do to survive, although we as outsiders may not think the same way.

I’ve always been into women, and I thought about them a lot. I never thought that I would ever sleep with one. I met my current best friend and, on a brave night, my lover. When I met Brittney I wasn’t expecting it to go anywhere. I wasn’t looking for anything, nor did I want anything. When we met I would have never in a million years thought it would develop what it had turned into. Although we have just decided to be friends, she did change my life.

I ran into her with a group of friend. We didn’t talk, and all we said to each other was “Hello”, nothing more, nothing less. We only were around each other because we had the same group of friends. She, by far, was one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. This is another reason why I didn’t think she was into girls, and why I thought I was out of her league. She stood about 5’ 6” and was full figured, but in the right way. She had the most beautiful face. I say face because I can’t just pick one thing about her I like more, but I have to say it’s a tie between her lips and her eyes. She had full lips and gray eyes. We paid each other no mind for the longest time.

Finally, she spoke to me. We were sitting around, and she came to me and was like “This is like the tenth time we’ve seen each other, but we’ve never said more than five words to each other.” I had to inform her that I’m not really the talkative type. I just don’t talk to people. I want for them to talk to me. If they never talk to me, then we never meet. I know it isn’t the way things go, but that’s just how I am. Her coming up and talking to me changed my life.

From then on, we talked and talked. Over the next five months we became the best of friends. I was surprised at how fast we became friends. I told her some of my deepest secrets, and she told me hers. We never talked about sexuality, but it wasn’t far from there. One night when drinking, we were telling each other secrets. We have this thing where we would say “Tell me something”. That meant sharing a secret, and it had to be something we didn’t already know about each other. She came to me and said “Tell me something”. I guess because we were drinking, I spilled my second biggest secret. That would have to be that I’m bisexual, and I’ve always wanted to sleep with a women. She did laugh at me, but she thought I was joking. I guessed by my face she noticed I wasn’t. All she said was “Wow, really?” I don’t know why, but that hurt a lot. Just getting a simplistic answer like that.

For the next few days, I kind of avoided her. I didn’t answer her calls, and almost acted like she didn’t even live. My boyfriend didn’t understand why I was acting like this, but then I just broke down and told him everything. He told me that I shouldn’t treat her like that, and I should answer her calls. My boyfriend is an odd one. He supports me being with a woman. So when I told him that I was attracted to her he basically called me a baby, and told me to make a move.

I avoided her for about two weeks. Yea, I know that is a bit of time. What got me talking to her was a text she sent saying “What did I do? Whatever I did, I’m sorry.” I then realized, I was doing more harm than anything. I ended up texting her back, and we talked through text for about a day. She came to my house and we decided to talk. After talking for a couple of hours, she asked if I wanted to hear a secret. I told her yes. She then told me that she also was attracted to women but never acted on it because she was scared of what people thought. That and she had never had a friend that was also into women. I learned that night that she was also feeling what I had been feeling. She told me that when I told her, all she could get out was “wow”, because it just surprised her that I would even tell her.

Two nights after that we did take things further. She stayed the night at my house on a night that my boyfriend was at his mom’s. It was like we both almost knew that it was going to happen without ever REALLY talking about it. That night she came over, and we did have a couple of shots to relax the both of us, but not enough where we weren’t in control.

We went from taking a couple of shots of Gray Goose to kissing. For a moment everything felt surreal. It felt like a dream. We were both nervous, and we were jumping into something we both knew NOTHING about. I didn’t want that night to end. I became obsessed with the way her body felt, and the way she moaned, and the change in her breathing. It was something that I don’t think I could ever put into words. We took our time, and I learned the ins and outs of her body, and she mine. We fell asleep. When we woke up I could tell she was confused, and I was just as confused. I will never say I was in love with her, but I can say I was in extreme lust. I couldn’t tell you how she felt about me, but that night we treated it as if it was just she and I.

We never really talked about that night in great detail, but we did mention it a couple of times. I guess it was a learning experience for both of us. I guess what happened was that we used each other to test the waters. We both went into it with full understanding. I did tell my boyfriend about it, and he asked me how I felt about the whole thing. I told him, that I really enjoyed it. Would I do it again? I told him I would, but I don’t think it would happen anytime soon. It loved that I did get to try it; to see if they were waters that I would travel again. You know guys, being guys. My boyfriend tried to get me to spill the details.

Well, Brittney and I, we are still good friends, and talk every single day, multiple times a day. She’s now dating someone else, but we are surprisingly closer now than we were before. I’m glad that my first time with a woman was with someone I not only knew but was an adult about the whole thing.

I’ve always wondered how many people were ashamed of their own race? I have to admit there are times when I can say that I’m ashamed of being black. Am I wrong? Should I be proud of my race? I agree, yes, I should be proud of my race, but in 2011 it’s extremely hard to be. With today’s music, movies, and T.V, I can see how some can be ashamed. Am I saying it’s right? No, I’m not. I’m just saying I can completely understand why someone would feel this way.

I’m black and so is everyone else in my family. I was raised in a white neighborhood. I went to a white school. My family was the only black family in our whole little area. I didn’t think much of it. My mother worked in a white majority area. She was the only black female in her area of work, and we think that is because most jobs have to hire some percentage of minorities. My mother didn’t mind. She did have to deal with her amount of racism. She always said the people who had a problem with her were far less than the ones who treated her as an equal. My mom worked her ass off to keep me and my siblings in a good school and raised in a good area.

I was raised to speak proper English. Yes ma’am and no ma’am your elders. Just to be right out respectful. Dress well and present yourself as if you had a good upbringing, and some sense of civilization. As awful as it sounds, that is how she raised us. She worked her ass off so people wouldn’t label us as a statistic. She wanted us to not fall into the same category as every other person. She wanted to raise us to be strong, and to not let our skin hold us back. She wanted us to have the skills, and the education, so when the time came for us to be on our own, we would standout for who we are, and for how well we did something, not for the color of our skin.

I remember the first time someone said to me, “You sound like a white girl”. I was sitting in class, and I was in the 7th grade. I didn’t understand what she meant. The whole time I was thinking, ‘what does that mean?’ I went home and asked my mom, and she said it’s how I speak. I speak very clear, and proper. I never tried to; it was just how I spoke. I was a little embarrassed, and I couldn’t tell you to this day why I was. After that, I never spoke to that girl again. I kind of just stopped talking in school really. When I talk to people on the phone, and they meet me, the first thing a couple of them have said is “I thought you were white”.

I always reply, “Why would you think that?” They always follow with, “Because of how you talk”. I never really reply. I always feel like, ‘damn, not all black people talk as if they were ignorant’. I’ve never actually said that, but I do think it all the time. It wasn’t till I moved to Minneapolis from Florida to understand why people were surprised by me. That’s when I started to feel embarrassed about being black.

It wasn’t till I was in Minneapolis (18 years old) that I started thinking differently. I’m not ashamed of my race or being black. I love being black, I love my skin, I love the color. I love the way my skin looks next to my boyfriend’s skin. I’m proud of what my race has overcome. I would never wish to be another race. I guess I’d have to say I’m ashamed of what my culture has become. I’m ashamed of how my race continually proves stereotypes to be right.

Teen pregnancy: Black teens have the highest teen pregnancy rate. For young women age 15-19, black teens are most likely to become pregnant (134 per 1,000 women). Slightly lower rates occur among Hispanics (131 per 1,000) followed by non-Hispanic whites (48 per 1,000).

Drop-outs: The rate of dropout is higher on average for Black, Hispanic, and Native American youths.

Black people along with other races, but more so black people, have to deal with stereotypes such as:

Stupid
Irresponsible
Crack babies
Teen pregnancy
Drop-outs
Incarcerated
Fathers leave their kids
Hard workers? Lazy? (There was considerable debate on this)

So many more should be added to this list of things that are attached to being black. One by one, I see them happening right in front of my face. I don’t know if it’s the day and age we are in, or what is not being done at home, but something needs to change.

I’m out on the street, and I’ll see a group of black females and each of them have a baby tied to their hip, or pushing one in a stroller. They seem to speak as though they haven’t had any education. They’re disrespectful to their elders, and seem to have no self-control. The majority that I’ve met (female) are single parents of one or more children. Education rates blacks at the bottom, and some have no motive to do better.

A great percentage of black families come from uneducated parents that are in and out of jail. A lot of young black men (not all) would rather “hustle” on the street than take the time to look for a job. A few black men I’ve come in contact with always feel as though the “white man” owes them something. Black artists on T.V. reduce their worth or value to big jewelry, huge houses, and women with huge asses. They degrade their women, and every female is a “bitch” or a “hoe”. They value themselves on how big their rims are and how loud the base is in their car, and not how they are presented, or what they stand for.

Black people in general disrespect each other more than any other race could. I was sitting on the bus one day and there was a group of black men sitting in the back of the bus, and they are talking to each other. But the way they are doing it, every other word is “Nigga this, or nigga that”. If someone else was to say it, they would lose their minds. Why would you refer to yourself as something that you wouldn’t want someone to refer to you as?

The majority of black men feel gang life is all they have. I personally feel it’s all an excuse to not have to prove that you are worth more than you think. They would rather be respected by their “homeboys” than be respected as an upright citizen. The majority of black young girls don’t strive to be doctors, or vets. No, they want to be a video girl, the girl who isn’t respected for her education. They’d rather be the girl that is used because she has a big ass. Most would settle for being a man’s other women than being his wife. I don’t feel that you can blame someone for how they were raised. You would think that because they were raised the way that they were, that they would want to change that. No, most would rather sit back and blame everyone else for their failure in life.

People are surprised when they ask me if I have children. I’m proud to say NO. But they make it seem as though they expect me to have a couple of them. When people find out about me, they act so shocked. I tell them I’d love to become a doctor, or even a therapist. I always get a look of ‘Oh, really?’ It annoys me to no end. I’m not saying white and Hispanic people aren’t the same way, but I’m just focusing on black people. I could be looking at this from the wrong point of view, but I’m just stating how I, as Miss Nessa, feel. I can go on and on about this, but his article can be only so long……

References: http://womensissues.about.com/od/datingandsex/tp/Teenpregancy.htm

http://www.ncset.org/publications/essentialtools/dropout/part1.3.asp

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550,000 couples in America are interracial couples. You’d think today in 2011 that it would be more common, or at least not so much cared about. I thought that it would have been also, but I learned later that it wasn’t. I met my boyfriend in my early teens (2004), and we’ve been together ever since. We weren’t actually together until I was about 17 years old. Our relationship was long distance. He being Mexican American and Caucasian, I saw nothing wrong with it. When you look at him he looks full Mexican, and you don’t see any white in him at all. When I told my parents about it they didn’t seem to have a problem with it. I thought they were going to be the ones I had to worry about, boy was I wrong.

I had to worry about other people. Although I shouldn’t care what other people think of me or my relationship, I had to admit, it did bother me. I noticed people looking at us and staring like we were doing something wrong. I’ve even had a woman tell me that I was going to hell because I’m dating outside of my race. I’ve had the most evil things said to me because of who I loved. He didn’t let anything get to him, although it bothers me very much.

I had gotten to the point where I almost felt embarrassed, and I didn’t want to be affectionate toward him in public. That put a lot of stress onto our relationship. It lead to us arguing, and him even thinking I didn’t care about him. I didn’t find that part out to later, and I was heartbroken. I wondered why so many people have problems with interracial relationships.

I’ve asked one person who I was friends with why my dating out of my race bothered her? She told me because it isn’t natural. That I’m just depriving my future children of their culture. She continued to say how she assumed my sex life would be, and how I should want to be with a strong black man. She continued to talk about how men that are not black tend to cheat more, and are abusive to their partners. She said that when my children are born, they won’t be welcome into either race because they are not either just black or just white. She stated that my marriage would not make it.

That conversation ended our friendship. I couldn’t have a friend that not only disapproved of my relationship, but already had preconceived notions about how it is going to be. That conversation did make me think about how race and relationships go into one.

I didn’t see anything unnatural about dating outside of my race. We are both human beings, and my heart beats and pumps red blood like his does. I’ve also noticed that the people who have a problem with my interracial relationships are mostly women! You would think women would be more understanding and flexible. When I did some research to write this article it actually surprised me how many more women than men have a problem with it.

According to the Census Bureau statistics there were “354,000 White female-Black male, and 196,000 Black female-White male married couples in March 2009, a ratio of 181:100, but this ratio tends to decline: it was 371:100 at its peak in 1981”. There are 158,000 more men in interracial relationships then there are women.

Why? It’s because of something called the “marriage squeeze”. This refers to the belief that the most “eligible” and “desirable” African American men are marrying non-African American women at a higher rate. Which is leaving African American women who wish to marry African American men with fewer partnering options. I’ve asked why black men like white women more. Most say it’s because of African America women attitudes, and the constant demeaning attitude. A black male cannot get by in life being below average. He better have skills, knowledge, and a good future within view. But when they try to improve themselves they get nothing but hatred and ridicule.

Instead of black women changing themselves they would rather hate, and wish bad upon someone else’s relationship. I know of women who would rather leave a guy that is broke and in school over standing by his side until he figures out his life path. Caucasian women tend to be more supportive, and stand by their man. Whereas an African American women would throw his lack of education, or how long it’s taking him to finish his degree, in his face every time they fight.

The state of mind that people have is one of the reasons it is quite difficult to maintain an interracial marriage, and more often than not these types of marriages will end up in divorce. How could you possibly live a happy and healthy life when you have this person, and that person bickering in your ear? Simple conversations about what is being said can change what one person says into a fight between you and your partner.

I had a neighbor who was a white female, and her husband was a black man. They have been together for over 11 years and have never been married. Now, for some reason her husband cheated on her. The first thing my mother said was “If I was her I’d leave his ass”. See, that is one of the problems. Most black women are ready to call it quits. Where my neighbor stayed with her husband, and decided to work it out. Not only for them, but for the children, and black women have that type of mind set and wonder why men are dating out of their race.

Some studies show that there are higher divorce rates in the same race marriages compared to interracial marriages. Marriages involving a white husband and black wife were substantially less likely to end in divorce than marriages involving a white husband and white wife; the former pairing’s divorce rate was 44 percent less. Also when going over divorce rate, you have to take into account of other information, such as education level, and family history. It’s been stated that the majority of interracial couples are both well educated, successful, and goal oriented. Interracial couples are less likely to have children before marriage, and also tend to marry later on in life.

The main problem among interracial marriages is not their history, their race, their marriage, or their children; the problem is society. If society were not so judgmental and concerned with race, people would live more happily. Some people are so consumed with what is happening with other relationships that they aren’t even paying attention to their own.

As for me and my guy, we’ve been together for almost eight years, and never have broken up. I plan to spend the rest of my life with him. Our sex life is amazing; our whole word is amazing. I couldn’t ask for more of an amazing and supportive partner. He’s hard working, faithful, sweet, and just a strong human being. I’ve learned to ignore the stupidity, because no matter what you do, someone is going to disapprove.

References
Chew, Kenneth S. .Y, David J Eggebeen, Peter R. Ulenberg. 1989. “American Children in Multiracial Households.” Sociological Perspectives , 32: 65-85.
Marsiglio, William. 2004. “Overlooked Aspects of Stepfathering.” In Public and Private Families , edited by Andrew J. Cherlin. New York, NY: McGraw Hil

Being anything but straight in the African American culture can be a very hard thing to deal with. My own personal story is just like many more. Although I wish the black community had a better view of homosexuality then it currently does. As a black women, I was raised to think being bisexual, gay, or a lesbian was not okay. It was looked to be a white person thing. Yeah, I know that makes so much sense, right?

I remember talking about homosexuality with my parents. My mother told me it isn’t okay; people who lay in bed with the same sex are going to hell. Crazy, huh? I wasn’t aware of my sexuality at this time, but her saying this to me made my blood boil, and at that time I didn’t understand why. No one ever sat down and told me why loving someone of the same sex was wrong. I went the next five years not knowing why being homosexual was bad, beyond what I know from the Bible’s point of view. I hid the fact that I was sexually and emotionally attracted to women, as I am men. To this day, I have yet to tell my parents about my sexuality.

The action that scared me the most was one night when I was sitting in my parent’s bedroom and was watching television with them. My father happened to pass the LOGO channel, and he saw two guys kissing. My father actually called up the cable company and asked why were they showing this? He yelled and screamed. I felt bad for the Direct TV woman. At the end of the conversation, he ended up getting the channel blocked. The first thing he said upon hanging up was, “Who wants to see a couple of faggots kissing?” My mother didn’t say anything, but in my heart I was hurt like he had said it to me. I felt, wow, if I tell him how I feel, will he think that about me? It took almost raising the dead for me not to cry in front of them. I’m guessing it hurt so badly because I was taking it personally. Maybe if I didn’t feel the way that I did, then words like that couldn’t hurt me. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not trying to make my father sound like an awful person. He just has his mind set on sexuality.

When I was about 14 was when I was ever really close to a woman. I have not slept with one, just the normal cuddling and whatnot. It felt so right, that in my head I couldn’t understand why anyone would view it as wrong. Years when by, and it wasn’t until this past year that I started digging to figure out why being or having homosexual tendencies in the black community was looked down on.

Reading paper after paper, book after book, and article after article, I’ve noticed there is common ground between the African American and the lesbian/gay/bisexual communities of this society. Both have been, and continue to be, disenfranchised by a large power structure. Both suffer the burden of stereotypical labels, which suggest that they are less than human and are not worthy of dignity. Both are compelled to demand equal rights based on the humiliating argument that they cannot help the ways in which they differ from straight, white male/females. Perhaps most importantly, both share a common population lesbians, gays and bisexuals of African descent. Homosexuality/ lesbianism are viewed as something that is deranged, perverted, and inhuman at times. To understand why, we must examine several factors: history, politics, the dynamics of racism in the lesbian/gay/bisexual community and homophobia in the African American community.

Having sex with the same sex was viewed as a white man act. As, I put it in my own words. This means that homosexuality was first introduced to the African American community by the white man, when really that is the farthest from the truth. History chooses, or how people choose to look at it. Depicting that African Americans didn’t engaged in homosexual activity before European influence entered the country. In fact, there is overwhelming evidence that homosexuality existed in pre-colonial Africa. The first recorded gay couple in history is of ancient Egypt, namely by identical twins Khnumhotep and Niankhkhnum. It comes from the depictions of the two men standing nose to nose and embracing, and other pictures where one occupied the position usually designated for a wife. At that time, homosexuality was defined by sex between a man and a boy. As Egypt is part of North Africa proves that a form of homosexuality was in place way before they adopted European influences.

In a homosexual male couple, being gay shows signs of weakness, and submissiveness. For some black men positioning themselves in a submissive position to be dominated, or “Fucked in the ass”, shows or proves that they aren’t men. But in fact, that they are women, which is demeaning and embarrassing. Homosexuality is a savage act, something that wild caged animals act on. In slavery days, black men were looked at as savages, and less then. Now, in today’s world, they are still fighting to correct that stigma. Acting in a non-masculine, savage way defeats the purpose. They have the view as, “I AM MAN!” Look at my offspring. In a homosexual couple, the chances of having offspring are slim to none. A man isn’t a man in some people’s eyes, unless he can provide a woman with what she needs to produce him children to inherit his name.

As in a lot of African American families, I was raised in a Christian household. I love my faith, and I’d never abandon it. I do have to admit that I don’t agree with some of the rules that are attached. African-Americans are among the most religiously committed American ethnic groups. The ancient Egyptians, Greeks, and Romans were generally accepting of homosexual behavior within certain contexts. Egyptian religion was filled with tales of adultery, incest, homosexuality and masturbation… with hints of necrophilia.

Hinduism and Buddhism tend to view homosexuality primarily from the standpoint of its karmic effects. Jewish, Christian, Sikh, and Muslim cultures have generally perceived homosexual behavior as sinful. African Americans are more likely than the general population to interpret the Bible literally and believe in God with absolute certainty, which is how I was raised. You never questioned the Bible. But as someone who is confused, I find myself questioning it, but only in the sexual orientation aspect. Knowing how committed African Americans are to their religion makes sense that many black Christians take the Apostle Paul at his word when Paul portrays homosexuality as an act of depravity and perversion in his letter to the Romans.

When it boils down to it, homosexuality for most African Americans is a huge boiling pot of ignorance. Just like any other race, ignorant and blind religious following, breeds continuous ignorance. I don’t know what it is going to take for the black community to look at homosexuality in a different way. Although most of the world has progressed, it seems that with this subject no amount of pushing and shoving is going to change the views that have been imbedded in our DNA for over the past thousands of years. I’ve come to learn that nothing is going to change until God himself says that it is okay. Until then, I do continue to keep my sexuality from my family.

Attitudes and affective reactions to lesbian, gay, and bisexual (LGB) individuals are slowly improving in this country. As more lesbians and gays come forward, and people see them for the people they are, rather than the label, the level of acceptance has improved. Although, it is hardly universal.

Vaginismus? Wait, what is that? Is it sexually transmitted? Is it something you can pass to me? Those are just some of the remarks I’ve gotten from people when I tell them I have vaginismus. I’ll get an alarmed reaction, or one of sympathy. Some act as if I told them “My doctor said I have vaginismus, and she has giving me two weeks to live.” It is not that serious, but those are the reactions you get when people just do not know. Then I have to go through the process of explaining it to them, and repeatedly ensure it is nothing they can catch.

So, what is vaginismus?

Vaginismus is a condition where there is involuntary tightness of the vagina during attempted intercourse, or any kind of penetration. The woman does not directly control it; it is an involuntary pelvic response. She may not even have any awareness this is causing the tightness or penetration problem. It can be caused by a history of sexual abuse, rape. The majority of vaginismus is
subconscious. I’ve always told myself it had to be something I couldn’t control. Why would anyone willingly want this to happen. The pain and the discomfort is not worth faking. I don’t think it could be faked even if tried.

Vaginismus is not something that a woman can control, and in order to fix the problem you will need patience and a supportive partner. Vaginimus also shows its ugly head in multiple different forms. Actually there are two different forms of vaginismus, and no one woman is prone to it.

1. Type one – Primary vaginismus- It normally refers to the experience of vaginismus with ‘first-time’     intercourse attempts. Typically, primary vaginismus will be discovered when a woman attempts to have sex for the very first time. No matter what her partner does, he has no luck with     penetration.

2. Secondary – is the experience of vaginismus a little later in life, after a period of pain-free     intercourse, and typically following temporary pelvic problems. This is when the woman has a normal sex life and has never had any type of problems. When out of the blue the ability to have pain free sex is no longer available. The case is normally diagnosed when all other problems are ruled out. Such, as a yeast infection or bacterial infections.

Vaginismus also goes by two other names, such as Apareunia. Apereunia completely makes sex impossible. It also goes by the name Dyspareunia. Dyspareunia is when penetration is possible, but is still uncomfortable.

“What is the age of the typical vaginismus patient? [as seen at a private clinic in the     U.S.A.]

• 18% are under the age of 25. This figure could be much higher if the condition were to be better understood and properly diagnosed at an earlier age.
• 53% are between the ages of 26 to 35
• 26% are between the ages of 36 to 50, mostly including women who married late in life, or those who have been in unconsummated marriages for many years, suffering in silence before seeking help.
• 9% are over the age of 51″², or painful.

As surprising as all this is, vaginismus is pretty common. Vaginismus affects 2 in every 1000 women, although, it could be more because a lot go undiagnosed. Most women who suffer from vaginal problems do not normally get help for it. It can be hard to diagnose vaginismus. Confirming a formal diagnosis of vaginismus may take some planning and perseverance. No definitive medical test exists for the diagnosis of vaginismus, so it may take a number of visits to several physicians or specialists before a medical diagnosis is obtained.

For some women talking to physicians about sexual problems can be difficult. Embarrassments and anxiety are often present, making it hard to communicate and look for, let alone receive care. I personally know the feeling of being ashamed and embarrassed; this is what kept me for many years from getting any type of help. If I could change it, I would have looked for help much sooner. Because I didn’t know that the history of abuse and my vaginismus were tied into one.

When you finally muster up confidence to speak to someone, you have to be completely honest. If you are not you can be misdiagnosed, and this will cause you to have to go through useless procedures, which can scare you away from seeking any extra help. When seeking help, you will need to first contact a gynecologist. Meeting with a gynecologist is crucial to finding out if you have vaginismus, or if it is something else. Your doctor will need to run tests, and attempt to do a pelvic exam to confirm his/her diagnosis. Once you have done the entire test and the dreaded pelvic exam, if the doctor is able to complete one, it is time to seek treatment.

There are a couple of options for treating vaginismus, please keep in mind that vaginismus is entirely 100% treatable. It is not something you are doomed with, and sex will NEVER happen. You have to receive treatment on your own. You cannot be pushed into it; it has to be something YOU want to do. If it is not, treatment is less likely to work.

Now, here comes the fun part. Finding a therapist that has even heard of vaginismus. I had a hell of a time finding a doctor that knew what it was. I actually saw a doctor that, when I told her what I had, had to go and get a dictionary to learn what it was. That was the first and the last time I saw her! I saw four therapists before I found the one I’m currently with. Be patient, and find the right doctor for you, one that you trust and can speak openly with. Some women do not need to see a therapist, they just may need to see a physical therapist.

Once you have found the doctor for you. You and your gynecologist, along with your therapist can discuss treatment options. Most doctors will recommend using dilators. They are dildos that come in a few different sizes. From the size of a pinky finger to the size of a normal penis, they will want you to at least go one size lager than your partner. Completion of dilation depends on the person. You start on the smallest size, and they only want you to move to the next size when you can successfully insert and remove the current size with full comfort. On average, someone can spend up to two months to move between dilators. Some move quicker; it depends on the person. Once you have completed dilation, it is recommended that you use them at least once a month. When using them, they want you to practice tightening and relaxing your pelvic muscle. Some women sleep with their dilators in, which is perfectly safe. Progression is up to you. It is not a race. You can only truly start dilation when (and if there is) the mental aspect of it has been, or is starting to be, addressed. Dilatation is a slow, and at times frustrating process. It is actually broken down into many different steps.

• Step One – Understanding vaginismus. Understanding that it is not your fault, and what can be causing it.

• Step Two – Sexual history review and treatment strategies. This is when you sit down and talk about your sexual past. Find out what mental blocks can be causing it.

• Step Three – Sexual pain anatomy – Most women do not know what there vagina looks like; most have never touched their own vagina. Learning about the inner vaginal areas and vaginal muscles. Learning about this educates you in connecting sexual body parts with emphasis on their role in sexual pain and penetration issues.

• Step Four – Vaginal tightness and the role of pelvic floor muscles, vaginismus is caused because of vaginal tightness on the pelvic floor.

• Step Five – Insertion techniques – This teaches you how to insert items with the success of     no pain. This is done by learning PC muscle control techniques, as they allow the entry of a small object (cotton swab, tampon, or     finger) into their vagina. Everything is done slow and at your own personal pace.

• Step Six – Graduated vaginal insertions – This is when dilators come into your life. Vaginal     dilators are effective tools to further help eliminate pelvic tightness due to vaginismus. Dilators provide a substitute means to trigger pelvic muscle reactions. Graduated vaginal insertion exercises allow women to comfortably transition to the stage where they are ready for intercourse without pain or discomfort. Most women once they reach stage six, are soon able to attempt to have sexual intercourse, some aren’t successful, and some need more time.

• Step Seven – Final and last stage that is full pain-free intercourse and pleasure restoration. The final step toward overcoming vaginismus includes penis entry with movement and freedom from any pain or tightness. You must remember, some people when they reach the final step, can have occasional “episodes” of painful sex, in which I suffer some.

Remember, Vaginismus is entirely curable; you will just need to be ready to take the steps needed to successfully go through treatment. It is process that you want to go through; there are times when I just want to say I give up. I could live without having sex. Every day, I thank God for having such a supportive partner. Having vaginismus can be stressful, not only on you, but also on your partner. I’ve read stories where men have left the women they are with because they are not having sex. I just wanted to write this article to inform people about vaginismus, and hope I could help someone else. As, for me? It is a battle I fight, but it is getting better each and every day.

Most wondered how I came to learn the word V-A-G-I-N-I-S-M-U-S. Here, is a brief summary of how I learned of this.

Growing up, my parents were not together. I bounced between Florida where my mother lived, and North Carolina where my dad lived. My father joined the army and became abusive, so my mother left. When I learned about this, I was surprised she even allowed me to visit him. Well, she did. I never stayed the night with him at his house. I always stayed with my grandmother. She broke down and finally let me stay the night with him. That night changed my life. I was sexually abused by my biological father, and I was only 11 years old. Never told a soul, and it came out in ways I now see. So, years went by, I grew up, and still keeping this secret. I met a fabulous boy at 14; it was long distance till I was 17 years old.

That is when I started becoming sexually active. Before 17, I had not even kissed a guy. My mom thought I was a lesbian. So now when my boyfriend and I, of now three years, attempted to have sex, it was a dramatic fail. He was unable to enter me, and we just thought it was nerves. We tried a few more times with no success. We left it alone, and tried again when I moved in with him a year later. We still were not able to accomplish having sexual intercourse. I finally broke down and saw a doctor; I had done some research on my own. I thought maybe my hymen was too thick and had to be broken by a doctor. I wish I was that lucky.

Meeting with the doctor, she tried to do an exam. With no luck, she was not even able to enter her pinky finger. She asked me if I have a history of sexual abuse. I lied and told her no. I went back a couple of days later and broke down and told her the truth. That too was when my boyfriend found out about my sexual abuse. She told me I was suffering from vaginismus. I thought “What the heck is that?” Is it something I can take some medication, and it is fixed?” She told me NO! You are going to have to see a therapist, and maybe go through physical therapy. She gave me the “gist” of what it was, but I learned more when I did some searching, and found a WONDERFUL sexual health therapist.

References
1.Valins, L. (1992). When a woman’s body says no to sex: Understanding and overcoming vaginismus. New York, NY: Penguin Books. P.23,24
2.Katz, D., & Tabisel, R. (2002). Private pain: It’s about life, not just sex. Plainview, NY: Katz-Tabi Publications. P.70,71

“Sexual abuse might play a role in the development of obesity in young black women. Current estimates indicate that about 1 in 4 young women have experienced physical or verbal abuse in dating situations, with black and other minority women suffering the highest risk. “If you look at recurring patterns in teenagers, many girls have had sexual or physical abuse and have never talked about it. Instead of dealing with the issue, they eat.”  -Janet Taylor, MD, a psychiatrist at Harlem Hospital in New York City.

Obesity has been significantly associated with a history of sexual abuse. In our nationwide epidemic, black women have the highest rates of obesity. The root causes are paradoxes and misconceptions surrounding obesity. It seems as though you are never on top, or you are never not a victim. You had to deal with the abuse, and as an adult, you suffer more abuse, because you were not given proper coping skills.

Binge eating or BED is at least six times more common in obese people, and three to four times more common in obese people who report a history of childhood sexual abuse. Most people who are abused are told they are ugly and worthless. It has been shown that black women often experience difficulty asking for emotional support. This, combined with a traumatic history, emotional withdrawal, and eating for psychological reasons, compared to their Caucasian counterparts. When you sit back and think about it, it all has to do with being in a Nuclear family where the support system is fairly strong. Where the majority of African American families are non-nuclear households. They are mostly blended with grandparents, step-siblings, and step-parents. In an African American home, abuse can happen, and no one would know, or notice the child acting different. I know that family background, sexual abuse, and obesity all plays into one. I’m not saying that all obese people have been sexually abused. With study after study, it shows being overweight, and sexual abuse go hand and hand.

Most women have difficulty losing weight because they must overcome their demons. Many women equate thinness with attractiveness, and therefore, they eat too much so that sexual offenders will not find them tempting. The fear of becoming a victim again causes most women to not even try to lose weight. They keep gaining and gaining, with the hopes that people who are out to get them cannot because they are not sexually attractive. Some women see being skinny is a sign of weakness, and somehow convince themselves that if I do lose the weight I’m welcoming and saying I want to be a victim again.

In a dream world, we all are healthy and free from any type of abuse, whether it was inflicted on us, or if it was self-inflicted. A better line of communication needs to be established. Beyond sexual abuse, in an African American family, the hand of responsibility is passed down from the single parent to the oldest next in line. In most African American families, there are more than three children, and it is a single parent home. No one is around to keep track of what food is being eaten.

Everything is quick and easy, and on top of that, cheap and processed. When you are presented with a human being that has the responsibility of caring for siblings, with no real supervision around, and you add sexual abuse to that mix. You are presented with a person who was doomed from the start. We internalize everything; this comes out in destructive personalities. Some develop eating disorders. Some become highly sexually active. For the weakest of us, we become binge eaters. What makes matters worse, is that being black you are taught that family business is family business. What’s done in the house stays in the house, and it dare not be repeated.

I’m not saying that these issues are for everyone. There are people who are just down right lazy. You also have people who are like me, people who are scared of losing weight. Some people think being fat is a choice. I personally do not think it is a choice. I feel as though the majority of weight gain is somewhat of a defense mechanism. When you are in the mind of a food addict, you will notice that we do not eat because the food is good. We eat because we need that comfort. I never saw my eating as a problem. I just did it. Eating when you are an addict soon becomes tasteless; we eat and swallow everything so fast. There is barely time to breathe. The addict in me feels the need to hide and sneak, even when I do not have to. I would eat when people were asleep. I’d hide food. I could not just eat one. If I had a pack of cookies, I could not just eat one cookie. I had to eat two or three rows.

Eating in front of people was embarrassing. I would get remarks and ugly looks, and most of it was from the family. Family members would buy food, and bring it into the house knowing my problem. I would be told I could not have it. I’ve learned that I’m a defiant person, and because I was told I could not have something, when everyone was away, I would eat it all. It was an ugly cycle. It never seemed to end. My binge eating started after I experienced a traumatic event at the hands of someone who was supposed to protect me.

I ate when I was depressed; I ate when I was happy. I ate when I was bored. I ate just because it was in the house. I would get called a name, or given an ugly look. I would eat. The whole time thinking “this is why you are fat”. but the action of eating overpowered my common sense and logic. Food was the only thing in my life that did not make fun of me. That did not treat me bad. Food was by my side when I needed something or someone. Food was the best friend that NO ONE could take from me.

My weight, along with my solid build, made me look like a beast. I now learned that being fat was my way of protecting myself. You will not approach someone who is scary and large. It kept people away, so no one got close enough to know the real me. My weight and my size screamed STAY AWAY. Nobody talked to me. I made no friends, which made the likelihood of me getting hurt slim to none. As of today, I still fight my food demons, but I’m learning to quiet them. I was not getting love from the people I should. I never learned to love myself. I soon learned that what I was feeling, and how I was thinking, was not just in my head. I learn that I was not the only one. Eating, being obese, and with a history of abuse; from my view there is no rainbow after the storm.

Sources:
SOURCE: Keith, S.W. “International Journal of Obesity,” advance online publication, June 27, 2006.
By Daniel J. DeNoon
Reviewed by Louise Chang, MD
© 2006, WebMD Inc. All rights reserved