-Founder and CEO
“I knew that I came from a long line of past generational trauma and my mother worked hard for me to not be another statistic. But now I was one.”
I was raised in a family that was fairly open about “sex talk”. Growing up, my mom (who I primarily lived with) exuded confidence in her sexuality and my father was a traditional mexican Christian man (who I still believe is in denial of what acts took place between me and my husband for us to now have three growing children). Love ya dad ;).
There were discussions throughout my childhood from family, friends and of course…society, about virginity and how sex/intercourse (especially the first time) is a sacred experience between a man and a woman.
“You don’t want to just give yourself to anyone.”, “They will take a piece of you and you will be changed forever.” Wow… it all sounded so “special”? Who wants someone to take a piece of them…?
Fast forward to my first sexual experiences which amounted to lack of consent, shame, trauma, and rape. So much did feel taken from me. I felt ruined. Was that it? My “virginity” was “taken” in such a horrendous destructive way. How would I get that piece of me back?
I knew that I came from a long line of past generational trauma and my mother worked hard for me to not be another statistic. But now I was one.
It wasn’t until my first sexual experience that I **willingly chose to participate in** (with my now husband) that I started to think about my own sexual pleasure… Was I deserving of pleasure and a “normal” sexual experience? Was I scarred, hiding my scarlet letter and blocking away the images of multiple men taking advantage of me?
My sexual trauma has impacted my view on sex but now I know this was not because something was taken from me.
“I came to the realization that SEX, the good, bad, truth, lies and everything in between was a conversation I needed during more than just my teen years. “
I needed to dissolve the sexual values of the world and reignite what I wanted for myself. The understanding of my need as a woman to allow myself pleasure and if it did not come “naturally” to seek it out and fight for something that was necessary and gratifying. Not selfish, not dirty, not sinful.
I knew the anatomy of it all and what I heard from family, friends, and the media but what if it all felt different to me.
What if the good didn’t feel as good?
What if the bad felt good?
Was it all in my head?
As I sifted through all these thoughts and navigated early adulthood, a chronic illness was thrown into the mix……now I am really screwed (no pun intended). With chronic pain/fibromyalgia even “good” touch can feel bad. Add in debilitating fatigue, IBS, depression and navigating a new marriage while still processing my sexual trauma. How would I ever figure this sh*t out? And what held me back from sharing this with the women around me?
While becoming a mother, I found that I needed a WHOLE LOTTA help navigating my pregnancy, birth, breastfeeding and mothering journey. Heck I still do! I had to lean into my instincts and trust that I knew what was best for my mind, body and baby even if society told me I was wrong.
To support this, I sought our mother-to-mother groups whose mission was to help mothers through support, encouragement, information, and education. These organizations and groups understood that a supportive network was an essential element to a healthy relationship with ourselves as individuals and as mothers.
The years spent with these women, who always seemed to be going through similar experiences, made me realize that this type of resource is needed more than in our childbearing years. Women need support, encouragement, information and education throughout our sexual lifespan too.
It has taken time, openness, vulnerability, education, research and a whole lotta grace for myself and the world as a whole to get to a place where I am ready to share my voice and create a space for women like me.
I’m here along with my BFF to be your safe space. There’s no censoring, shame or judgment here. We are women, living with differences and trauma with the goal to break down the sexual barriers for all women. Let’s rub some lube on it and get started!
Some truths about me…
I desire and am worthy of sexual pleasure
I have faked orgasms
I am a survivor of sexual violence
I have an invisible illness
I am more than a statistic
I am whole
-Founder and CEO
“I couldn’t let that Holy Ghost man show up with his burn book and fugly slut shame me in front of everyone including my PASTOR.”
My first relationship was with Jesus.
And it was dysfunctional AF.
Growing up in an Evangelic church, I was raised to believe that I was inherently bad, sinful, and- as a girl growing up in that culture and our current society- dirty. Even in my teen years, I stayed mostly out of trouble knowing that, since I was already a complete disappointment, any straying from the straight and narrow would just mean more catching up for me to do to get on his good side again.
Considering anything but a male partner was a completely closed door to a closet I didn’t know I would someday wish I could have come out of. And heaven forbid I partake in any kind of sexual exploration for fear that Jesus himself would show up on my wedding day with a gaggle of my past partners in tow to roast me at the altar for my conquests in front of my new husband and all of my loved ones.
I couldn’t let that Holy Ghost man show up with his burn book and fugly slut shame me in front of everyone including my PASTOR.
So, I went along, trying to nail down a husband who would be okay not nailing me until that oh-so-sacred night and get married reasonably quickly so I could get it all over with and see what the big deal was.
It wasn’t until after I was married and having babies with my now amazing husband (who didn’t see any apparitions at the altar after all- don’t worry…) and trying to sit through Sunday morning sermons with nurslings that I was really confronted with my convictions. I was told I couldn’t feed and comfort my children in service because, “I might make young men uncomfortable.”
That moment made me realize- this isn’t right.
I’m not dirty for using my body the way it was intended.
I shouldn’t feel shame for using and enjoying the body that God, or Spirit, or the Universe gave me.
And I’m not inherently unworthy.
I’ve since stepped away from any kind of organized religion and am now, in my mid-thirties, finally allowing myself to unapologetically explore and enjoy my body. Accepting my body has been difficult in a lot of ways - I suffered a traumatic live miscarriage a few years ago, and because of that, found out I have several autoimmune diseases, including Hidradenitis Suppurativa, or HS, which causes extremely painful and often times embarrassing skin lesions. I’ve hated myself off and on for so long…hating how I look, harboring shame from my religious trauma, or being angry at my body for being chronically sick.
I haven’t let myself love me.
I didn’t experience my first true orgasm until I was 32 fricken years old when I discovered my first ever sex toy and found out that external stimulation was key for me. Not only was I seriously missing out by having WAY too many years of emotionally fulfilling, but physically mediocre sex thinking that was the extent of what I could expect, but my partner was too - now every intimate encounter we have together is met with a new understanding of my body and how we can work together to achieve an Earth shattering end goal for us both.
It feels scary and unknown and sometimes embarrassing to think about putting myself out there in this way. To be open like this when I have years and years worth of shame to work against - but, when you think about it - If I were to start a recipe blog and I shared anecdotal stories about how good it feels to stuff a slice of homemade pizza in my face hole, well…no one’s panties would be in a twist over that. And really, what is the actual difference…?
I’m going to work through the fear and possible backlash, knowing that the world needs this. The world needs women to embrace their bodies and sexuality. We need a community we can talk to, we need tools to help us work past the physical, emotional, spiritual, and mental hurdles we face, and we need resources to make sure our sexual wellness is being cared for, because all too often we care for everyone else and never ourselves.
Scientists don’t know why women care more about their partner’s orgasms than their own…but talk to any woman anywhere and I know we’d all agree- this is what we’ve been trained for. An entire life of subordination to make sure our needs are the last to be met.