quote unquote

What sort of men were these, then, who had been torn away from their families, their countries, their religions, with a savagery unparalleled in history?

Gentle men, polite, considerate, unquestionably superior to those who tortured them – that collection of adventurers who slashed and violated and spat on Africa to make the stripping of her the easier.

The men they took away knew how to build houses, govern empires, erect cities, cultivate fields, mine for metals, weave cotton, forge steel.

Their religion had its own beauty, based on mystical connections with the founder of the city. Their customs were pleasing, built on unity, kindness, respect for age.

No coercion, only mutual assistance, the joy of living, a free acceptance of discipline.

Order – Earnestness –Poetry and Freedom.

From the untroubled private citizen to the almost fabulous leader there was an unbroken chain of understanding and trust. No science? Indeed yes; but also, to protect them from fear, they possessed great myths in which the most subtle observation and the most daring imagination were balanced and blended. No art? They had their magnificent sculpture, in which human feeling erupted so unrestrained yet followed the obsessive laws of rhythm in its organization of the major elements of a material called upon to capture, in order to redistribute, the most secret forces of the universe…

Monuments in the very heart of Africa? Schools? Hospitals? Not a single good burgher of the twentieth century, no Durand, no Smith, no Brown even suspects that such things existed in Africa before the Europeans came…

But Schoelcher reminds us of their presence, discovered by Caillé , Mollien, The Cander brothers. And, though nowhere he reminds us that when the Portuguese landed on the banks of the Congo in 1498, they found a rich and flourishing state there and that the courtiers of Ambas were dressed in robes of silk and brocade, at least he knows that Africa had brought itself up to a juridical concept of the state, and he is aware, living in the very flood of Imperialism, that European civilization, after all, is only one more civilization among many – and far from being the most merciful.

Frantz Fanon, Black skins white masks.

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THE SIN OF ASSIMILATION.

 

The first time I ever encountered the term, assimilation I think was somewhere in a Social Studies textbook when I was in Standard 5 or so. It was something the French colonialists practiced in their African colonies. In fact at the time I thought, huh, what a wonderful opportunity. It made me even regard the French as the more sympathetic of all the Europeans who colonized African nations right?

At least they gave us a chance to be ‘better’ than our primitive barbarian selves right?

The next time I heard of this strange term, assimilation, it was with regards to immigrants in The States wherever they are from be it The Middle East, South America or African and you will notice Africa will be a very recurrent feature in this article. Notice I didn’t say Europe.

This is when I got a taste of just how insidious, this ‘assimilation’ is. Because it requires you to learn a different language under the guise that you’ll be more of an ‘international citizen’ or whatever, adopt another culture’s mannerisms, sometimes even warm you up to another culture’s predominant religion or face one of the worst things a human being can encounter, disrespect.

And for sure there is no real problem in embracing another culture, even I speak really good English and I don’t necessarily hate that. The issue arises only when the embrace of the other culture comes at the expense of your own culture.

And this is the really insidious part of this ‘assimilation’ business. It just follows the theory of ‘the failure of success’ which is that if you spend all your time mastering another’s language, culture, mannerisms and modes of worship what about your own? Assimilating is always in direct competition with embracing your own culture, so who wins? Since we are in fact bound by time and space.

And with the dawn of the global community, it seems sometimes that you don’t even need to immigrate to have to assimilate. From here in Kenya I have assimilated much more than was ever necessary. And for what? Because surely I can appreciate another’s culture without having to completely embrace it in my entire being. Right?

And what assimilation really does is just to emphasize and reinforce imaginary social status quo, things like blacks are less than whites, women are less able than men, stupid social stratification that doesn’t even make any sense because you will notice the indigenous peoples of nations that tend to be richer or more powerful never need to assimilate only the minorities need to. And I’ll ask again, for what?

The really interesting thing about assimilation is that it can happen entirely without your knowledge because the world is rigged for and against some and for us who walk into it blindly after these structures were already in place it can be hard to know when it is actually happening. Things like black women constantly straightening their hair despite the fact that it is by far the farthest thing from their natural kinky locks and that the practice damages their hair too, women battling with men in the work place to do the same kind of jobs in the exact same way as if the two were competitors while in reality the two are more compliments.

Assimilation forces us to chug down the corrupt social structure embedded into the world with a smile on our faces. I mean, does it really get any crueler than that? And alas the plot thickens.

The worst effect by far that I have seen of assimilation has got to be the number of cultures that have fallen prey to it. How many things have we forgotten from our own unique cultures while busily trying to embrace these other dominant cuture? How much diversity of culture has the world been robbed of? And this seems an issue for the descendants of these so called ‘forgotten’ cultures but you would be wrong, this is an attack on everyone because culture is for everyone. This is akin to say if all of Michelangelo Carravagio’s paintings were lost all of a sudden. That is of concern to me too even though I am not the least bit Italian or even European because culture is for everyone.

The good news is though that culture doesn’t make people, people make culture and we can make more culture to replace even that which was lost.

 

Oasis

He hadn’t known it yet,

That I was parched,

Dusty and starved.

The dunes had worn me down,

Clipping off more of my spirit with every storm.

Burying me deeper in sand,

Quicksand.

I was sinking fast and slow,

When I first saw him,

At first I thought I saw water.

He wore its blue tranquillity,

The sparkling clarity in his voice,

Soothing me again and again.

I was certain it was a mirage,

Definitely not a man.

But I was wrong,

It was both.

Just a conversation with him quenched me,

Healed my dustiness,

Retrieved my health.

Cleansing me of that wild dust,

Filling me with just the right lust,

Trust.

But that was then and this is now,

I have long since been in the desert,

Yet I retain the cracked complexion,

Deprived of all its water.

It may be different now,

I may not be in the desert of sand,

I now live in the desert of water.

As I said before,

I was wrong.

He was neither man nor mirage.

He was both.

He was the sea.

A Critical Examination of ‘BOREDOM’

So… a while ago while talking to a friend he casually mentioned that life after school is boring. And immediately the words left his mouth, or more accurately the second my eyes read them off my screen I knew he was horribly mistaken, even worse than mistaken it was a terrible miscalculation on the entire concept of ‘boredom.’ So let’s get to it!
Now like the inconsiderate philosopher that I am I will start by stating the conclusion before explaining the syllogism and premises that lead to it, but that too has its purpose. It is, ‘boredom is death.” Now let me explain.
The question uniquely endowed to tease out the answer from the boredom riddle, because it is a riddle, a bigger one than it seems is ‘when are we truly bored?’ Really. The beauty of this question is that it isn’t at all subjective. In fact it is rather quite objective because it isn’t specific to any particular human such as the question, ‘what bores you?’ It is more concerned with the point of no return to the land of ‘interesting’that concerns all of us equally because as we will see later, boredom is quite irreversible. It is very similar to the question, ‘when are we truly dead?’
And in fact the answering of the latter furthered my cause in answering the former or rather the video that answered it ( exquisitely if I may add.) Check it out at https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5c6C3rHOdf8. For the death question to know the point of no return you must first ascertain the limits of life itself and at the cellular level turns out it isn’t just as simple as the loss of vitality, which is as obscure and as mythical as it sounds, rather it is the entropy within the physical body that is simply and sadly irreversible. Akin to the rationale behind necrosis when tissues have been so deprived of essential nourishment that there is simply no supply of nourishment that will return it to its previous state or as actuaries like to say, that would indemnify it. Thus the death of the limb or appendage.
So for our case, what are the limits of the opposite of ‘boredom’ which we will refer to as ‘interesting’ for purposes of this conversation.
What I did discover is that the trip towards boredom starts at what I will call ‘mundane’, you know, planned, ritual and expected. But beware, this is not yet boredom, the threshold has not yet been crossed. Mundane is just the first stop, boredom is the destination.
For example mundane is how I would describe my life. A 22 year old that spends most of her time repeating the script of chores, books, sleep, pups and math. Right?
Very planned, ritual and expected. Very mundane indeed. And even then, it isn’t yet quite so boring because alas there is some incoherence. Even with such a formidable life schedule you could always wake up late and have to answer to angry hungry pups, shove dog poop onto your leg absentmindedly. Even as I transcribe this piece of writing for the third time since I wrote it in mine own hand first, then typed it onto Word and now onto WordPress. This should be boring, doing the same thing for the third time within a one hour radius but you would be shocked at how many minuscule things I have changed and how they’ve changed me. However you slice it, there is always incoherence, with boredom the limit is arbitrary, almost undefined.
This ‘incoherence of life’ is the force that moves the pointer on the mundane scale back towards ‘interesting.’ Incoherence of life is the joy of life. It is the unexpected, unchallenged, unavoidable spice to our daily helping of life.
So now that we know the limits of ‘interesting’_ boredom and the spectrum of mundane that we must travel to get there. And even the mode of transportation that we will use which is a decrease in the ‘incoherence of life.’
And there we have it, we are only truly ever bored when there is zero to negligible incoherence of life and by our own design our lives are planned, expected and ritualistic, because as always with humans there is always a choice.
This is where it gets interesting (no pun intended) since the condition I just explained is impossible, inconceivable even. Why you ask? I will answer like Michael Jackson would have, ‘it’s just human nature.’
For one, nothing about being human is even close to the term, ‘coherent.’ The entirety of humanness is one big ball of incoherence but I will focus on the tool I find most ‘interesting,’ the tool we use to navigate life, the mind.
Our minds, in their true forms, not the well sculpted fake impostors that we may portray in our speech if we are so lucky to be coherent in speech are more or less nonsensical muddled fits of confusion. I dare say only those we call ‘insane’ show us the true versions of their minds. ‘Sanity’ as we know it are just part of the destructive or constructive (depending on who you ask) inner process of decreasing the inner incoherence of life generated by our minds.
So if we are ‘sane’ enough are we boring then? As we have significantly decreased our internal incoherence of life. This is the simpler question to answer because obviously incoherence of life is not only generated internally but also externally, by the street name you have probably heard of_ fate, kismet, destiny or what I prefer life events. These are the things such as the sudden death of a relative or friend, loss of a job or a gain of an otherwise unforeseen opportunity or even the meeting of a lovely, noble stranger that you didn’t anticipate. These all serve to increase the inner turbulence from the outside in without our input or consent.
So then the only other way to be ‘truly bored’ is if you are ‘sane’ enough in your choices to cancel out the intrinsic inner turbulence and miraculously also isolate yourself from all forms of external ‘incoherence of life’ where everything in life is stipulated, no need for an allegiance to destiny. This should surely and definitively ensure, ‘boredom’.
And the answer is yes, then and only then shall we truly be bored, But beware the ‘we’ in that statement cannot be a human. The assumptions of that scenario are against everything human to the best of my knowledge.
It assumes:
1) You can attain absolute ‘sanity’.
2) Lack of external or more practically ‘substantial’ incoherence of life removes all incoherence of life given that the intrinsic inner incoherence of life has been cancelled out by ‘sanity’ in condition 1)
The first assumption is of course the simpler to refute if for nothing else because of the terminology. Absolutism is not a term that can ever describe a temporal being such as a human, that is a term for ‘gods’, which is just the term I ascribe to beings that can achieve perfectness . This will and can never be the case for humans whose basic aspects are built upon imperfection. No amount of ‘sanity’ can ever tame the madness within. Try as we might with fancy education, proper etiquette, and polite manners and sieving of our real selves, we can never really anesthetize ourselves from who we are inside. And this isn’t any kind of new revelation, many at times we have witnesses seemingly well-adjusted persons resulting to obscene, violent even suicidal ends. This is just because the beast of internal incoherence can and will not be caged by any amount of ‘sanity.’ This is not to say that we must be our vile, ridiculous, perverse inner selves all the time, or maybe it is, at least then we’ll be finally telling the truth.
The second assumption is also wrong but to show this I will use an example. That of solitary confinement, say if you are on death row, marooned on an island of plenty or an agoraphobic person trapped in your basement with all your basic necessities.
This person will more or less be leading a ritualistic life sedated of the common external incoherence of life. Of course not all incoherence of life is removed, this person may still bump into a rat in their room, or notice a longer spear of sunlight creeping into their room one morning. The point is the very substantial incoherences of life are removed, things such as worrying about your next meal, next job or next lover aren’t worries anymore, since the removal.
So it should follow that according to the second assumption materialized by my example especially the death row inmate one, these kinds of people should more or less have reached the end of the spectrum of mundane, in other words they should be bored. And yet you would be sorely mistaken yet again as this is hardly ever the case.
Death row inmates who have been isolated and all they have to await is death are usually some of the more unstable, unhinged individuals. In other words the most ‘interesting.’ Thing is our minds to a large extent don’t derive their incoherence of life from external incoherence of life. The madness within us keep churning and turning long after the switch of external incoherence is switched off, if that can indeed be done. So we remain ‘interesting’ even in true isolation, maybe even more so because then and only then will we be forced to truly introspect instead of just sedating yourself with a mindless routine. This is part of the reason why solitary confinement is so powerful as a punishment. Our ‘interstingness’ can actually malign us if we suppress it too much.
So our minds seem to be the last man standing, for as long as you have one you are by default, ‘interesting.’ The only way to be truly bored is to kill the mind. Hence my conclusion, ‘boredom is death’ and now I’m sure you understand why true boredom is in fact irreversible as is true death of the mind.
What I do wonder though is about the afterlife. My conclusion only carries us as far as the brink of life and then it is yet again put to the test. This is because if Dante’s DC or the bible or literally any other sacred book on the topic is right then ‘boredom is not death.’ Which brings forth and an even more violent and absurd question. What is ‘death’ and ‘boredom’ to begin with? And if we don’t know what these terms truly symbolize which we clearly don’t why do we even have them in our vocabulary?
But that’s way above my pay grade. Later!

What in the hell is hell?

You know all through my life my religious CV has read so many different things. Atheist, Agnostic, Idiot, Catholic and irreligious among many others as you can probably imagine. Currently I’m on polytheist agnostic. Don’t ask.
Okay fine, ( I heard your sigh) as the name suggests it means one who believes in more than one religion but of course it’s me so there’s a twist. I only believe in all religions on the things they agree on_the core principles not the superficial glossy rituals and stories about God knows who did what where. For me those are all just fairy tales I just read them to obtain the moral of the story, I’m an African so obviously I’m big on the moral of the story. Moreover, I don’t believe in any of the religions in their entirety, hence the ‘agnostic’ part because and this is important, no one knows who is right about this ‘who is the creator’ business that’s why we call it belief because we can’t prove we are right. And more importantly who cares, just believe and follow the properties of good humanness and you should be well on your way. Right!
So by now I am sure you know I’m as confused as confused gets, in fact I’ve been accused of being an atheist who just likes the wisdom in holy books and to that I’ll say. You’re half right, philosophy is my life and a lot of it is in said holy books so what did you expect, but I do believe there is a God and in the Socratic spirit of knowing that I don’t know, I’m just boobsy (‘ballsy’ the term can’t be used here for obvious reasons so this is what I could come up with) enough to admit that I know there is a God but of course I don’t know what ‘God’ is like. That’s like a computer telling a human he knows what humanity is. Please computer, go back to your binary hell! Why are we so afraid of just saying, ‘shit man I don’t know. Ask the evangelical idiot on TV, just remember to carry an extra thousand, even though the encounter will probably cost you your belief in humanity.’
There’s a saying where I come from, my corrupted take on it, ‘kutojua si ujinga.’ That’s what I mean when I say if you don’t know you don’t know,it doesn’t mean you’re not dumb you just don’t happen to know.
Anyway from the pointless story above, it’s clear to see that I have a true love hate relationship with religion. I am always trying to warm up to it even though my nature is cold to its touch and at the top of my religious kill list is ‘hell’. Every time I think about religion and how warm that makes me I remember oh there’s hell too and I snap out of it.
And the shocker is that my major objection to ‘hell’ doesn’t even stem from the fact that I’ve been reading Dante’s harrowing DC or watching ‘The Good Place’, like everything worth anything it’s from my childhood.
It’s actually from my mom although I think if she knew she’d promptly invent the time machine and return to the past and never ever mention what she mentioned to me, she is always urging me to improve my relationship with God after all and I’ll admit this I do try, even though my spirit is rigid and not really capable of doing any more than I already am. The things we do to please our parents.
Anyway a long time ago she casually mentioned to me that she doesn’t believe in hell. And of course being the curious nut I am I was like ‘why mom why?’ She gave me the most poetic answer I have ever, or will ever get form her EVER, ‘dear daughter because all suffering ends here, earth is hell and purgatory combined.’(She totally didn’t say ‘dear daughter’ i was just upping the ante, it was epic regardless.) Now you have to understand that I wasn’t a very precocious child and I blew past the answer not realizing what it would mean to me.
But the more I grew and evolved and was hit by the bullshit of life I came to unearth the memory of that tiny speech and totally embrace its idea. In fact this is why I am unusually comfortable with the idea of death. Life is good don’t get me wrong, I’m just saying that so that you don’t accuse me of being Sartre’s spirit child (I love his logic but hate his conclusions, again don’t ask, I prefer Camus anyway) but you can kind of agree life is hell and purgatory combined.
So the next question is obviously then what in the hell is hell? For what purpose does it serve exactly?
You know when I think of bad experiences I think of purification. Bad experiences purify us for the good that is to come, just how losing your virginity hurts so you can get to the wonderful orgasms later (although not all vaginas are built the same so don’t quote me) or a less erotic example how childbirth hurts so that you can get to the wonderful tiny human flailing on your breast.
Pain is always just pissing at a rest stop so that you can rid yourself of the toxins before you reached the promised destination, clean and all. And this is my issue with hell, it defies the rule that bad experiences and pain are a means, because underlying the concept of hell is the proposition that pain is an end in and of itself. I can’t reconcile this. God would never do this to us.
And it’s not that I don’t comprehend the argument that hell is what you do to you, if you live badly you deserve it. I totally get that, the thing is, that’s human logic not God logic. We are the ones who torture people who killed our families, enact death penalties, literally telling each other to ‘go to hell’. Not God. At least i think not.
God logic would never do that. (I know, pretty big statement given that I am the very same supposed agnostic from a few sentences ago who doesn’t know God’s nature, well… He lets me know little things like that sometimes, remember this is the same guy(God) who left what 99 sheep to look for one, and it wasn’t even extra fluffy or anything just a regular old dumb arse sheep that did what sheep do best, get lost. So I’m not far off, you’ll see.) To God we are never irredeemable, no matter what we are or what we do. And Christians actually say this a lot, how there is nothing we can do to make God love us any less and hell I believe it! Naive as that sounds.
I am not saying push the limit by doing all the worst stuff imaginable to test this theory, you’ll probably just feel really bad but do you see how if that is true then hell is not possible. The after-life has to be all heaven.
Pain and suffering should always be temporal not ends, Right?
And I know this is not an original idea, in fact just the other day a friend sent me a wonderful video of an atheist defending why he didn’t stay home and instead chose to defend his belief that God does not exist or that he doesn’t believe in organized religion or whatever. He cited that because almost all religions are obsessed with the idea of ‘apocalypse,’ being consumed by death and destruction eventually which is an abomination and I agree, how can you live with that proverbial cloud hanging over your head? And I will say this I loved every bit of his well-articulated coherent thought and his idea isn’t far from the above the main difference being that i am defending theism and he was not… needless to say not original.
But seriously, if there is a God. What the in the hell is hell?

WHEN SEX AND SHAME CONVERSE…

So before I begin I will send out a disclaimer, this is probably my first blog post ever. I know I know I have a number on here but what I mean is that this is by far my rawest, most unedited piece of work yet. There are backdoors to the self in this that I didn’t even bother taking out by editing but I won’t lie I am also hoping no one who knows me ever reads this. Regardless, I am writing as I would in my diary. Yes that’s right I have a diary at 22, all the best writers do anyway, we need to cleanse the noise stories off our palate before we actually write. Anyway the point is that I call my diary Jade so do not get confused when you see that name floating around.
I just watched Luvvi Ajayi’s TED Talk yesterday and in the spirit of ‘being yourself can be a revolutionary act in itself’ I am doing this. I am high on bravery and as earlier mentioned this piece is completely unedited, I literally didn’t even re read it. OK that’s clearly a lie. I am writing this before its done so let me just say I promise not to edit it and any upsetting spelling mistakes should be directed at Luvvi Ajayi because she made me do this!
Alrightie then. Let’s get on with it!
SEX SHAME, SHAME, SEX.
So my once upon a time to this piece is the wonderful book written by Meg Jay, The Defining decade and how to make the most of your twenties. Nb/This book is really good and its helping me among many other effed up persons navigate their twenties which is really helpful because I have a ton of problems and I really can’t afford therapy so cheers to Meg Jay for writing a therapy books for people just like me.
Anyway…
I have reached the infamous chapter on love and twenties so you know this is going to be juicy juicy juicy with a capital x. So there I am learning on what I need to do and not do with men while dating, what is intimacy, cohabitation effect blah blah blah…. You know the usual therapy jibber jabber then I get to this chapter on Dating down and what was a very fun and entertaining read all of a sudden turns into the most lachrymose moment of the day.
I am literally still crying and that’s saying something I’m more stone than I am woman.
The point is there’s a story in there that really tugged at my tear ducts about a woman they call her Cathy. She is a 27 year old teacher and the picture of contentment, she has written a novella and she teaches. If you looked at her you’d be like “hm, she’s fine. On to the next sucker”
That’s where you’d be wrong, apparently she can’t hold down a relationship if you can even call what she does relationships. She just prances about with any man that will have her, she asks for nothing and it’s safe to say 90-100% of the ‘relationships’ are sex filled.
So Meg Jay asks her, notice I didn’t say interrogate. Therapists this one is for you. Don’t interrogate, it’s a therapist’’ office not the police station for God’s sake which are actually pretty terrifying in Kenya to be truthful. I was there recently when my mother had a crash, nothing major, nonetheless the police were all over her ass and I swear it is easier to get assaulted inside the station as opposed to outside. Can you believe that? That’s like saying it’s easier to drink water spilt on the floor when the glass has broken and the shards are all over as opposed to drinking it from a perfectly okay and intact glass. Anyway I digress. I told you it was unedited. So you know who to blame. Hint: Luvvi.
Anyway so Meg asks “why? Why do you do this if it makes you so unhappy?” And then the woman supplies her once upon a time after so much wheedling, damn these therapists are patient. I swear if I was a therapist and a patient hesitated with information at ‘my office’ I swear it’s going down. How the hell am I supposed to help you if you won’t tell me? I would beat the crap out of my patients both emotionally and physically. Hee hee! And that is why I will never be allowed to practice therapy. Ever.
So turns out the woman is an Asian American and where she grew up the standard of beauty was more blonde white blue eyes. I say fuck that. I have seen some hot Asians. Shout out to Gu Junpyo( some Korean soap I watched and …) and Buzzfeed’s Yu Jin Li Yang. Dang son!
Sorry back to the story, the woman felt inadequate physically and the kids in her school made fun of her A LOT, she even described it as torture. So you know this shit is real and its soul deep. Back home was no consolation, her mother kept telling her boys would like her if she just dressed better, lost more weight you now that shit a parent can tell you little do they know they are stabbing you. Further compounding the problem is that her parents didn’t really talk about race, some bullshit about a post racial world. I swear these parents must’ve been the dumbest people on Earth I am all the way here in Kenya and even I know that America is the least post-racial country in the world. Still that really warped her sense of identity.
Ok I’m gonna stop this for a minute and give a public service announcement, if you are going to date/screw/marry a person of a different race/tribe/whatever first of all just know kids are a possibility and with your unique brand of child, who is totally okay they are both 100% ‘this’ and 100% ‘that’. You can’t denounce ‘this’ and ‘that’ and move onto the progressive future where the world doesn’t know race or tribe, believe me it does. Teach your children who they are, a person with no roots cannot grow damnit.
This kind of imperceptible child abuse really gets me riled up, I swear if ‘child abuse’ could manifest as a person I would beat that person to a pulp then dismember them. Child abuse is 500%(yes I love percentages, I hear your sigh. Deal with it) to blame for all the crazy arse adults traipsing through life and fucking up everyone else’s life because they pay it forward of course then we have to do this all over again with their kids in 20 years or less. I mean. UGH!
Anyway the nexus of the issue is that the woman didn’t have sex all through high school and it made her feel like a reject. She felt unwanted, unloved but most of all the most recognizable one of them all, she felt ugly.
And so we begin. I have to ask, what is this with shame and sex? I mean obviously I know this story all too well being a 22 year old virgin myself. I am just of the opinion that shame and sex should never be in the same sentence, you know. Sex is sugar spice and everything nice, and shame is to put it lightly Harvey Weinstein (ok that was funny, I think, shit I hope.)
You have to understand I have been asexual by choice most of my life(I’ll explain this isn’t ignorance on what it means to be asexual) because of just this because when shame and sex converse ‘ugly’ is born. And from many other people I’ve talked to there are so many different variations of this sex and shame conversation for both men and women and I know you all know it.
Either your penis is small, your breasts are too small, your libido is too high or too low, you are gay or pan or something the world doesn’t care to cater for, you are inexperienced or vice versa. It’s always something! The problem is if you go about mating and sex with what I’ve just mentioned in mind which is basically just stating characteristics of people really you will hate it. I mean all the things I have mentioned are not qualifiers for ugliness, they are all beautiful by default. They are a kin to painting a landscape, there is no ugly. Ever. It’s only ever what it is, and beautifully so if I might add.
I hate how the definition of sex is characterized by physicality or porn standards or I don’t even know what. People actually think sex is a physical act and it’s a quantity issue that you should get to right now! Come on now. They couldn’t be further from the truth. It happens when it happens is the best response to that deplorable idea.
The physicality of sex is like Isaac seeing the apple fall from the tree and discovering gravity. It is quite literally the tip of the iceberg, as in for real though, Isaac’s Principia was no fucking joke even the great mathematicians of that time like De Moivre carried it around trying to figure it out. Imagine. The way De Moivre and his axioms have made me sweat. I’M GLAD Isaac made him sweat. Take that De Moivre. Ok I’m kidding I love math and I love those guys…Oh God De Moivre forgive ‘them’ for they do not know who you are, by them I mean me. I sometimes refer to myself as ‘them’ like ‘Everyone’ in Elementary. Don’t ask. Oh Lord the analogy has taken on a life of its own. Let’s back pedal.
As I was saying the physical of sex is like ‘almost nothing’ in the grand scheme of things. Just like Isaac saw the apple fall and declared for gravity which is essentially a pull from the core of the earth on any and everything within its vicinity. When people have sex, sure it’s all gonads, hands and mouths but there’s something much bigger going down. Always.
That gravity shaped something should be the focus, the main focus. I mean have fun with your hands, mouths and gonads and whatever else. Seriously have fun but don’t forget that you aren’t touching their skin, what you’re feeling is the texture of their soul. It seems simple enough but honestly in practice it’s like no one knows this.
When you understand this facet of sex, you immediately understand the golden rule of sex and I dare say you can finally evolve from hooking up, fucking, bumping uglies or whatever and finally make love because you want to AND YOU KNOW IT. And let’s be real what else is there, right? Your job. Come on now!
Now am sure you are wondering Jade, what is this golden rule you speak of wise impostor? Well it has less to do with sex and more to do with love because sex is too small a term when we are talking about souls.
The rules are simply everyone must love and be loved in turn. That’s it and I can guarantee you this statement has been paraphrased so many times but this is its true format. When you hear the phrase, ‘you need to get laid’ or ‘I’m horny’ or ‘I masturbate three times a day’ that’s what they are referring to a deficit in loving and being loved in turn. Just the way your stomach grumbles when you feel hungry. Your gonads too vibrate and cry bloody mercy as an indication also your heart hurts but that’s for the poets amongst us.
Jade notice I didn’t say ‘should’ or ‘could’ or ‘would’ because when it comes to love, it’s not conditional. It’s a must! Trust me, the people who aren’t getting their quota of love are a mess. Go and get love and stop being a damn mess, its …
So now that we know all of this it goes without say that sex should never be a source of shame, it’s all about humanness and acceptance. And yet it is such an issue that here I am writing this. Sometimes I think humanity was designed to end humanity because these very ideologies that kill our ability to make love like the dreaded virginity, ridiculous physical and performance expectations, sometimes even pregnancy drama and STI’ s fear were designed by us. Surprise surprise!
I want to go back to a time when sex was fun and your awkward birth marks are a source of exploration, lack of experience is an opportunity to enact the whole teacher fantasy, the awkwardness a comedic pursuit and the pleasure a loving gentleness not a rough physical catharsis that ends even before it begins. Goddammit! Maybe we all want to go back to that time, good news is some people are already in the ‘Promised SeX Land’ . Some selfish people might I add who should totally speak up because people are out here suffering with sex of all things to suffer through.
Please please please suffer through bills, childbirth, elections, your leaders, tribalism but don’t suffer through sex.It ain’t right! The writers of the karma sutra are tossing and turning in their graves after they had to draw those images(so funny and cute). hAHAHAHHAHA.It’s a good book though, hell a great book. Right up there with Dickens, Khalil, Lahiri and Tolstoy.
Now you know Jade. Thanks for the ear, just promise me one thing.
Never let Sex and shame meet in your mind lest they have a conversation about you.
Ok I lied I sort of edited this thing but barely. You’ll probably find some typos. Intentionally placed to make sure you were looking, which you better do! Bye I have to run!

horse in the sky

I love it when i see you cry,

sniffling, dropping your silver from above,

the way your wrath fills the ravine,

For my happiness, it’ll serve.

To see your hauteur melt,

As your straight journey suddenly hits a curve.

That’s what you get dear judge,.

as you look down upon me with ‘love’,

slouching on your horse, high in the sky.