In my view, a chronicle indicates that a story is always being reimagined: it may take some turns and pauses, but the story itself keeps moving forward. Lauren and I share the experience of telling our stories on the big stage, surrounded by strangers who have become friends-in-bravery. Recently, I sat down with Lauren to ask some questions.

I wanted to write something about the Black women sex educators I look up to.

I was reminded this morning about my first time tripping the brownie fantastic. In this moment of pandemic, allow me to share a trippy-ass story involving a good sis edible-wielder.

It’s funny the things we do and don’t talk about. When it comes to sex, we share a lot without sharing anything. Is that on purpose? Does it add to the mystique? Or is it more socially acceptable to keep talk about sex to a comfortable minimum? I sit down with two women verging upon the envelopes of sex positivity, openness and creativity as they seek to push them clear across the shaken table.

Connecting with someone online can be hit or miss; the persona doesn’t always match the person. Jade, however, is her truest self on and off these digital streets. With every inch of her humanity, she schools, edifies and teaches.

Dick is abundant and of low value.
I deserve peen attached to someone worthy of my time and energy AND who holds my time as valuable because it is. And I don't have to explain why.
Sis (I’m sis) has been traumatized by aint-shit individuals and constantly relearning how to trust herself.

Imma give it to you straight: Ashley Cobb don’t play about shit. That shit being: outdated mindsets towards and about sex, gender roles, sexual expectations, wack sex and pity moans. Fall into the gravity of her Facebook page and community and you’ll find spirited conversations with folk from all walks of life. Ashley is never with the negativity bullshit and I’m happy I got to chat with her about it.

There’s something about wearing headphones in the sex shop that informs how you navigate the space. Pasty-white mannequins with bad wigs and flat asses dot the storefront that houses shit that’ll remind you single life ain’t that bad.

Grab your pussy and tell her thank you for the lessons. Apologize for the neglect. Speak to and acknowledge the trauma. She’s ready to spill tea, open you up to deep pleasure and be the beacon to lead you to your greatness.

I, a former indoctrinated prude, by definition of wayward ash-hats and the ever-changing scope of Twitter politics, would now fall under the jurisdiction of hoe. And by the power invested in me by the charge of my vibrator, I now pronounce me heaux for life.