Oddities & Ongoings

Oddities & Ongoings

I am nearly immobilized by the events happening right now. 45 is trying to kill us all. Just because he is at the end of his life and has a good bunker to hide in doesn’t mean the rest of us should have to die for his ego. I have horrible thoughts I wish I could purge, but they come unbidden sometimes. That man is evil. Just pure evil.

(And people felt this way about Obama?!? He never came close to killing us, much less in the first 3 months of office.)

Kinky Exam Room

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Is this an exam “table” or what?!

Work is slow for me which is frustrating considering I am still in the hole from the manic donations to Syria relief. I have been writing some really good pieces for my work blog, but one of my best, about Medical Fetishes, was pulled because I used forbidden words (pee, shit, toilet, bathroom). Sheesh, I just wrote about peeing in a cup at the doctor’s office! But work is very PG13 and even though it wasn’t golden showers related, it was yanked. Now I am lost about how to continue the series.

I want to write just basic: This is the exam table with stirrups, This is how an enema works, This is the speculum, This is the gown, This is the syringe… you get the gist. All regular normal things that loads of folks fetishize. Having been a midwife for so long… and being twisted… I am able to make each of those topics highly sexualized and fetishized.

Only twice as a care provider did I think anything sexual about women in my charge. One was Zack when he was pregnant and laboring; we became lovers soon after. Then there was another woman I had a sexually visceral reaction with (she felt it, too) and I removed myself from her direct care and became her doula. We never acted on the feelings, but they were most certainly there.

Feminist Porn

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Life with my cub is delicious and fun. He is amazing… is having some psych issues, but I’ve been able to nudge him into therapy and that will, I know, help lots. It has to be an enormous challenge being Muslim and kinky. And that’s just the off-work life!

Things between him and me, however, are in a self-sustaining/maintaining place. Just a delight being with him, talking to him, having sex with him. So so much fun! And I just realized, because he told his therapist, that I am TWICE HIS AGE! Fuck, I am old. We’ve been together for almost 18 months and I just figured this out?! (Where have I been?!)

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I don’t think I told you, but I found a Feminist Porn site! We’d been looking for one for quite a while because standard porn is a big ol’ yawn to me. Fake fake fake and just weird what with the girls wearing stilettos to bed and tromping around the pool in heels and giving the stupidest blow-jobs ever.

Googling “Feminist Porn” brings up several for-pay sites and someday, I hope to be able to use them, but Syria has the bulk of my money at the moment so finding a free Feminist Porn site was quite the coup!

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Bellesa (https://bellesa.co/ – NOT .com) has culled free porn from several free sites, including PornHub which is one of the largest regular porn sites out there, but have screened the videos before bringing them to Bellesa. Even so, some of the screened ones don’t make my cut.

I cannot abide by women faking pleasure. They squeak like mice and no matter what position they are in, they act like they are having a clitoral blast. Can you see me rolling my eyes? I’ve been screening the videos before my cub and I watch together (today I had him screen) and any squallering garners a thumbs down from me. (I keep a Word Document with the names of the videos I like and don’t like, besides the Star rating system on Bellesa.)

I will not watch a video if anyone has bruises that are not explained in the scene. I love kinky bruises as much as anyone else, but unexplained ones, especially if they look like they were made by hurting someone without their permission, squicks me.

I am not 100% sure, but would probably not watch one that had the girls in shoes on the bed. That is just so fake and ridiculous. Fuck, you’ll rip the sheets!

Hamilton

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I am still obsessed with Hamilton: An American Musical. I listen to the music 15+ hours a day sometimes. I love the Hamilton Mixtape, too, but right now am on a continuous loop of the original cast album. If you’ve not yet discovered the music, do yourself an enormous favor and immerse your Self, too.

Because of the musical, my cub and I read the original book, Hamilton, by Ron Chernow. It was amazing, too. After we finished that, we read Washington: A Life, also by Chernow. I actually loved Washington even more than Hamilton. I had no idea George Washington was as incredible as he was. Chernow brought him to life.

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I loved American History in junior high school, considered being a History teacher at one time, but then just lost interest over the years. Hamilton has reopened the passion I once had for American History! While I think Chernow is a fantastic researcher, his other books don’t really interest me. So, my cub and I have moved on to Lincoln, jumping right into the center of it all with Lincoln: Team of Rivals. We’ll be starting it later this week.

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Okay, time to sign off of here. My cub and I have a date to watch the 3 porn videos he found for us to watch together. Woo hoo!

I do have to laugh a little at his saying how much more discerning he is with porn now, which is amusing because he’s watched it for about 18 years now. Hey, if I can convert a regular porn user to feminist porn, my day is complete!

Sexual Hyperbole

The Porn Expectation

I am a Sex Worker. A Phone Sex Operator/Phone Sex Actress. After many years of watching very little porn, I am now watching it. A lot. Everything from vanilla straight sex to gay porn to hard-core BDSM.

I also have been watching real life people have sex for almost 40 years.

Truly, the difference is like night and day.

I consider porn to be sexual hyperbole;
the over-exaggeration of the images of sexual acts.

The Dream

Zoe Jaspers, a porn actress herself, writes in How To Spot a Fake Orgasm in Porn:

It’s not common for people to hear that pornstars sometimes fake their orgasms, but when you start to get tired after being ravaged for 5 hours straight, wouldn’t you fake an orgasm too? Nevertheless, it can be heart wrenching for a guy to hear that a girl he has a thing for, has been faking it for most of the sex sessions he’s had with her, due to the fact that not a lot of guys know when a woman fakes an orgasm or not.

Therefore, to help you guys keep an eye out when they’re next watching porn, or when they’re going to have their next encounter with a gorgeous lady, I’m going to spill the beans and tell how to spot a fake orgasm in pornos.

She shares these trade secrets (and elaborates in the article):

  • When she suddenly…arches her back
  • When she suddenly…grabs the guy’s head for no reason
  • When she suddenly…screams too loud
  • When she suddenly…wipes her forehead even though there isn’t a single (bead of) sweat on her (sic)
  • If the pornstar in your favourite movie goes from dry to wet within 15 seconds

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Oh-How-Accurate

I often feel men who watch more porn than have real life sex expect us to “perform” like these girls do on film. When I was a lot younger, still quite inexperienced sexually, I used to try and perform because I was embarrassed that I didn’t look/sound orgasmic.

I faked it.

A LOT.

How fucked up is that?

Once I started having sex with girls, I quickly learned all of us sound and look totally different when we orgasm. IF we orgasm at all. (Not everyone does and they should not be shamed for being inorgasmic. Pleasure does not always equal orgasm.)

I’m really glad to read this article Zoe Jaspers wrote because the information/disclosure really needed to come from within the industry. I hope her piece and this blog post can help soothe women’s/people’s concerns about not looking like a porn star when they orgasm.

(That we also do not look like the actors during the rest of the sex acts will be addressed separately.)

I refuse to fake it anymore. And I still don’t sound like a porn star when I cum.

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Checking My White Privilege

My inner-racist/classist/transphobic/homophobic

(etc.)

Disclosure:

Even though I am a fat Latinx who has mental illness, am physically disabled and a sex worker on the LGBTQI spectrum, I have a massive slew of inner (and outer) work still to do. I was raised in the American-Anglo world… the middle-class, English-speaking, able-bodied, white world… with white privilege.check-privilege-gif

I so want to be helpful in the various “causes” going on in our world, around the world.

I do not want to be hurtful.

Not here in my Navelgazing Writer blog.

Not in my Tumblr blog

And most especially, not in my life.

Where I know I still need work (and I acknowledge I surely have blind spots yet to be discovered):

(in no particular order)

#Black Lives Matter

I speak up for #BlackLivesMatter often, as often as I can in as many places as possible. I believe in the Movement with all my heart. I follow along, watching the debates between #AllLivesMatter, #BlueLivesMatter and even the dissention between the ranks about the Movement itself. I write about #BLM where I can, use the hashtags, engage family and friends and am seriously considering a #BLM tattoo. Yet it still isn’t remotely enough. I know that. I want to do something. Do something more. I keep looking for where I could be of more use. I will explore that here.

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Islamophobia

My boyfriend/lover/submissive (my fawn) is Muslim. I am struggling with Islam in ways that make me cringe and hold my head in utter confusion. As an atheist, all religions are confounding to me, but at the moment, Islam stands front and center of my inner conflict. Separating Islam from Muslims seems daunting, as much as separating Islam from cultural beliefs that are Islamic. I am just beginning to figure this stuff out.

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Transphobia

I will write about this extensively, surely over a several year period, but it has to come out. My former partner of (then) 25 years, came out transgender, medically and surgically transitioning from female to male. From announcement to phalloplasty was a little over 3 years. About 6 months after the phalloplasty, we separated, then divorced. So very much to say about the myriad of emotions that transpired during our transition time together.

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Internalized Homophobia

Even though I initially came out lesbian when I was 18-years old and then again when I was 25, dating only women… and being in (what I thought was) a long-term lovership/marriage (off and on) with a (then presenting) woman for 28 years, I know there are still stereotypes and -isms I need to look at and work through.

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Racism

This topic is so broad, it will take many different posts to work through. Even my own inner-Racism as a Latinx will need to be worked through. But the stereotypes of different races and cultures jump to the forefront of my mind when I least expect it… and that shit needs to stop.

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Xenophobia

Interestingly, I don’t feel I have a lot of xenophobia, but I could be deluding myself and need to work on it as well. I just don’t have issues with migrants, immigrants or refugees. I’ve worked with migrant Hispanic women (at the Farmworker Association of Florida and at Planned Parenthood as well as in midwifery school in El Paso, Texas), but that is a specific group of folks, leaving hundreds of other cultures and countries still mentally untouched.

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Fetishizing

Ugh. This one is going to be fucking difficult to work with since I am a sex worker who often creates scenarios and writes pornographic stories that specifically fetishize men and women… both cis and trans. I struggle with the line between attraction and fetishizing in my own mind. I adore black and Asian men. Love “Big Black Cock” and speak and write about it a lot. What are my values and am I contributing to the degradation of oppressed people by having my own desires and, more specifically, fetishizing it in my job.

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Reevaluating Law Enforcement

There have been police officers and Deputy Sheriffs in my family and friends since I was born. My disgusting police officer step-grandfather molested me (several times), in uniform once. My former partner was a Deputy Sheriff for 10 years of our relationship. I have been arrested and jailed twice, including being extradited back to San Diego, California from Orlando, Florida. Yet, my attitude towards law enforcement has generally remained one of a positive viewpoint.

And now, watching the videos of black men being killed for zero reason has jarred me into reevaluating my beliefs. And the really sucky part is until videos started being shown, I barely took notice of the mass of killings of black men, women and children. Even the mass incarceration of People of Color went over my head. I am horribly ashamed of this, but it’s the truth. This really, really is fucked up.

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Sex Workers

My sister was a dancer. I have several close friends and family members who were dancers as well. I am a Phone Sex Operator. One of my family members and I have discussed the inner confusion between feminism and sex work several times. I love what I do, but there are degrading moments that make me feel like I want to wash my mouth out with soap sometimes. Lots to think about.

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BDSM vs. Physical Abuse

I’ve been in the BDSM Scene since 1995, mostly as a submissive to my former partner Zack and now as a Domme in my sex work job. I consider myself somewhat of a pain slut, do bottom to others, have experimented with subbing to my fawn and much of my life is taken up in the Scene.

In 1990 or so, I wrote a piece in the San Diego Lesbian Press about how BDSM is nothing but a pretense for allowing/encouraging physical and mental abuse to vulnerable women (that was the angle; today I would say “people.”) For anyone following the Scene, this is a common argument and one I’ve considered (and reconsidered) over the years. There is ongoing inner discussion.

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Visible Dis-Abilities/Challenges/Differences

I have mobility issues because of being fat (a separate obstacle all on its own) and having brittle bones. As I write, I can think of about 20 preconceived thoughts about physically challenged folks that need to be purged. And not just my own.

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Mental Health

I have Bipolar Disorder 1 with omnipresent hallucinations, more depression than (hypo)mania and have had other psychiatric issues (anxiety & agoraphobia) fluctuate over the years. I honestly think this will be the area where I have the fewest concerns to work with/through. Being in therapy since I was 18 and starting on medication not long after that, I left the stigmatizing beliefs behind long ago.

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Size-ism & Fat Phobia

This will, most assuredly, lead to the most emotional posts of all (that I can predict at the moment). Having been fat my whole life, a gastric bypass in 2001 that initially was awesome, but now 15 years later is fucking with my body’s health and continues fucking with my head. Once in the Fat Activist Movement and still believing in a fat positive outlook, I also believe much of today’s Fat Positive representatives are deluding themselves about the long-term effects of being fat. Lots and lots to say about this.

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Cultural Appropriation

I was a Japanese Geisha Girl for Halloween growing up. I wore cornrows in the 70’s. I wore a medicine bag with crystals and sage around my neck in the mid-80’s. I did mendhi in the early 2000’s. I’ve participated in Blessingways over 30 years as a midwife. I’ve made flower crowns, worn harem pants and love Disney movies.

All of this before I learned what Cultural Appropriation was. It mortifies me seeing how disrespectful I was to so many people over the years. I look around and wonder what I am doing now that I’ll recognize in 5, 10, 15 years that will equally mortify me.

Know better, do better.

My Plan for Continued Inner Work

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I will continue reading articles, books and essays by people of different races, religions, cultures, socio-economic statuses, genders, abilities, sizes, etc. I will believe what they say even if what they say is different from what I know, what my experiences are and what I learned in school and/or in my white culture.

I will delve more into the histories of the people I am not familiar with, learning the things I did not learn in school. Actually, un-learning the things I learned in school.

However…

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Where I have an issue with exploring/learning on one’s own, is it requires some skills some/many people might not have or have access to:

  • Internet access
  • Ability to read
  • Ability to read English
  • Advanced English comprehension

I think there needs to be some alternative plans in place for those who need in-person learning/education of these social phenomena, especially when they are asked for.

Where I Struggle

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Where I do struggle, however, is in how to learn from the communities and cultures themselves. I absolutely understand the reasoning behind not asking the oppressed to educate me/us about their issues/concerns/struggles. I do promise to do my best in educating myself, but the reality is, with some of the exploited/misunderstood/unheard people’s problems/concerns, I am clueless where to even begin.

And then the black holes. Even as I research, digging deeper and deeper into subjects, learning new words to Google and building on my knowledge, there are still going to be gaping black holes I won’t even see until someone points them out to me.

Are there whites that I should ask instead? Isn’t that similar to playing telephone, getting the information second-hand? Wouldn’t speaking to the actual source be more appropriate? Wouldn’t I learn more hearing it directly? I will keep looking for the answer to this puzzle.

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If you see my bullshit, don’t hesitate to re-orient/correct/challenge me. (Without my expecting a lesson from you of any kind. I will be sure to research on my own and try again.)

I need to be more conscious. I promise to work on it every day.

if-it-doesnt

My fawn (aka My cub)

Tiny bit of Back Story

When Zack and I parted in December 2014, as I drove out of the driveway in San Diego, heading for Orlando, I emotionally sealed up my heart. Surrounded it with a cement wall. I vowed to never, never fall in love again. Ever. And I was quite vocal about it, especially when people would encourage me to “find someone.” Made me a crazy woman whenever that happened.

So, thinking the wall was impenetrable, I wasn’t really paying attention when I became friends with this guy… kid, really. But we spent inordinate amounts of time together and, as we know, since this is a love story, he chiseled the holy fuck out of that cement wall, making sand of it.

My fawn

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I’ve referred to “my fawn” in a couple of other posts, so thought I should introduce him.

My fawn is an amazing man. Younger than my youngest child (who is 30). Muslim. Smarter in many areas of knowledge than I could ever hope to be. He is also my submissive.

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And he lives behind the glass of my computer. For a long list of reasons (a couple given above), we will never have a real life meeting. And there are melancholy moments about that, but for the most part, it is something we accept graciously.

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If you’ve never had a cyber-love relationship, what we are experiencing can be a challenge to understand. You might also think we are delusional that this is even a real connection, not real love, but you would be wrong and millions of others can vouch for the truth of our reality.

When we first met at the cusp of 2015 and 2016, my new friend shared some of his foibles that are common young-people experiences (some call them “mistakes”) and I told him he was but a “fawn on wobbly legs,” to not take things too seriously.

The fawn name stuck.

Outlander

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In our early moments of talking (almost the entire relationship is in text), he told me about his love of Outlander, the Diana Gabaldon books and the show (on Starz). I squealed with delight as I am a rabid Obsessenach, loving both as well. The word for “outlander” (a foreigner, someone on the outside) in Gaelic is Sassenach (technically, what a Gaelic Scot calls an English person). I’m not quite sure when it happened, but my fawn started calling me his Sassenach instead of Mistress. I fell in love with the Honorific immediately.

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Islam

As he is a practicing Muslim… and I am an atheist… the word Sassenach takes on its own meaning of outsider in our relationship. He lives in an enclave of his Middle Eastern people as a first-generation American (born in the US from parents who immigrated).

Islam in the US

As I said, my fawn is fucking brilliant. He finds world history fascinating, knowing facts about wars, politics and even the people in so many countries. I, being a typical myopic American, am pretty clueless about what’s going on beyond a headline here or there. My fawn has incredible patience when I ask him to explain to me (“Talk to me like I am a 2nd grader, please.”) what is going on in the Middle East (which now takes on new meaning because of my love’s heritage), with observations about past Presidents or even our own political climate going on right now.

But he exhibited the most patient kindness after the Pulse Massacre on June 12, 2016, when I found myself, not particularly xenophobic, really (irrationally) angry with Muslims and needed his help to clear the painful confusion. For several days in a row, he listened to me cry, express my anger and frustration with Islam and the crazy people who embraced that religion as they demolished lives around the world. I am sure I wasn’t very respectful of his beliefs, but he never left me alone while I processed. As young as he is, he really exhibited the most tender kindness when I was in so much pain.

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I still struggle with Islamophobia (am working on a piece about it right now) and he is always patient with me, answering questions, guiding me to resources, but mostly just listening to the immense confusion I feel, as an atheist, to how someone so brilliant can believe in God, especially one who seems so fucking harsh. Exploration is ongoing.

Reciprocity

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While he is well-versed in history, my specialty, of course, is birth. This poor boy is being dragged into learning about pregnancy, childbirth and breastfeeding… from the politics of midwifery to learning about Postpartum Hemorrhage and how to save a mom’s and baby’s life. He’s seen pics of women nursing babies for the first time. He’s perused my Navelgazing Midwife blog, seeing women in labor and babies being born. Nothing in his life has prepared him for the adventure I am taking him on. I’ve taught him lots that will bode him well when, InshAllah (God-willing), he has his own wife and family.

A normal off-shoot of the birth talks is the sexuality of women. He’s going to be able to satisfy women in a way he never expected to learn outside of marriage (and porn). I’ve told him trade secrets (lesbian) and things that should bloody well be common knowledge with men and women alike. I tease him that he’s going to be making love to his wife and send up a prayer of thanks to me when she orgasms for the third time that session. I love teaching such a willing student.

Our Dominant/submissive Dynamic

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My sweet fawn is a natural submissive… found comfort and acknowledgement for those intense desires he’s had his whole life when he climbed onto the Internet several years ago. When we met, all he knew of me was as a FemDom (some write Femdom), learning later about my submissive history. It was delicious Domming him; so hungry to please.

As we evolved over the months, we have explored my submissive side (which I also adamantly swore I would never ever ever ever do again), finding great joy in giving my subbie self to him, even as he was quite green in Domming. We dabbled for a few weeks, but decided no more Switching, settling into our comfortable D/s roles.

My Skittish Yearling

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When my fawn met me, he did not know me as Barb, but as a different name (I am a Sex Worker… he is NOT a client.). The need to disclose myself became overwhelming and several weeks ago, finally “came out” to him. An entire side of me appeared as if from nowhere, learning I was the Navelgazing Midwife and now, the Navelgazing Writer. While he knew I had kids, it wasn’t until I came out that he learned how old they were, their names and about my grandbabies. I was sure showing him my whole Self would send him springing back into the woods, but he stood firm, loving me even more.

Clearly, I expose intimate details of my life for public consumption in several blogs and articles. In my life with Zack and the kids, we all had the agreement that I could write about anything, at any time, without their censoring a word.

With my fawn, however, he did not enter the relationship knowing this expository part of me and is extremely private, so many details about him are purposefully left out… or even shifted… to protect his identity. He did not have full consent about falling in love with a blogger, so I would not dream of asking him to adhere to my no censorship requirement for most of my friends and family.

Even still, I could not not talk about this man I love so very much.

And now you know him, too!

Memories Flood My Brain…

… and my fingers struggle to keep up.

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I am writing.

I am up writing at 4am each morning, here, on this blog, what I call my Vanilla Side, writing hundreds of words before having to sign into work about 2pm…then begin writing erotica (porn!) on what I call my Kinky Side… all while fielding calls and hoarsely nudging men and women to their orgasms. I am usually working until midnight or so.

So, while I look up on the Activity Bar, I see SIX open blog pages, all having at least 300 words on them already, a couple double that.

After years of my Word Drought, this is a “problem” I am comfortable having. I just felt compelled to share with you all that, while nothing is popping up in your feed, behind the scenes, I am a typing fool!

Off to the Kinky Side… where I am on Part 3 of 4, writing a BDSM story of hierarchy, lesbian sex, being fucked in a Dungeon and… well, you get the gist.

clicking Publish

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Rebirth

On Saturday, July 3, 2004 at 2:44 am, I published my first blog post ever. Entitled “Stumbling Along,” it was the beginning of a (so far) 12-year long blog, Navelgazing Midwife. My first line shares an emotion I experienced many times over the years:

… and it is so scary sometimes.

Where I Was

When I was active in birth work, I had to tiptoe through a hundred (thousand?) landmines, withholding my feelings too many times, wanting to write my beliefs years before I finally did in 2008 in the post, “Midwifery Education (Lite),” the version of an incredibly edited “Midwifery Education” that I stupidly deleted because I was terrorized by the higher-ups in the midwifery community and I feared for my license.

Rightly so.

That post came back to haunt me in 2010 when I was unceremoniously ejected from my midwifery community in San Diego, California. It took awhile, but they succeeded in ending my midwifery career (and gads, do I hate even admitting they had control over it!), sending me back into doula and monitrice work, which I did until I left San Diego on December 20, 2014.

Where I Am

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The story on why I left San Diego will be told here, along with what I am doing today. Looking back, it’s shocking how many changes have occurred in such a short time! From midwife to sex worker; married lesbian in San Diego, California to happily single dyke in Orlando, Florida. It’s easy to see there’re a whole lot of words needed to fill in those gaps.

I’m not going to censor as much as I did in my midwifery blog. I have nothing to hide anymore.(Well, except for the privacy of my work clients, but I think you’ll understand that, right?) My kids have been asking me for years to write my stories, that posterity thing and all. Amusingly, I have a lot of them to share, too.

Not Stumbling Anymore

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And so I take my first step here with you today. I am very excited to have changed my name, Navelgazing Midwife, something that is pretty well-known (Google it!), to the Navelgazing Writer. It’s so exciting to be on this adventure… and am thrilled you are here with me as…

…I begin.