Written in response to the collaborative writing endeavor, in specific: My.Body.For.Me.Her.Him.You.Us.
And yet gentle, gentle now, please. These parts of my body, they are to me as children. I take their hands, as they step out of the shadow and into the light. Holding them with strength, grace and compassion, I carefully lead them into being seen…
“Fuck” is a word they have heard all too often. “Pleasure” is an idea that has been scripted upon them.
“Pussy,” “dick,” “orgasm,” “swallow” – I watch as they hold their hands over their ears. It hurts to hear these words so often used against them, on them – rubbing, jolting, thrusting, moaning while another’s sense of control and desire reaps this against their small bodies.
I would wish orgasms upon these Catholic offenders, however I would like to know an orgasm first for myself. Would like to know what it is to feel safe enough to open, unfold, expand, spring out, burst forth.
What if, just what if, I told you I have never touched myself? What if I said that is not the primary pleasure that my body yearns to behold?
What if in place of your joyous desire for sex, my body instead said:
“Look at me
Laugh with me
Find an anchor that lives within my eyes
Beat the guards away, not with force
but with the rhythm of your open heart.”
What if my body wished to be seen; not for its inherent ability to couple, but for the unity within its perfect wholeness?
And what if, I asked for all this, but you were too busy within the exhalations of your own bodily pleasures to see how my body asks to be seen? How it might be different from yours?
Passion. We want to know this. For me, and for these little ones whose hands I hold, the frenzy of your desire’s whip scares us away. We hide back in the shadows, for you have not asked us, invited us, extended a hand of trust.
Somewhere deep inside we know you do not mean to force, know you are excited for our pairing, know you are also reclaiming your body, your strength, your masculinity. You have been hurt just as we have. Your power has also been taken away.
Our body simply asks to be seen. We ask that your story mesh with ours, rather than force it out with the strength of your voice, with the push of your “fuck.”
If you listen, we will answer, we will join you in the dance. It may require a moment of your silence – a bit of you also creating space just as we create it within our bodies to receive you.
And when you do, our response, combined with yours, will be deafening in the unity it creates.