I could talk about some of the logistics of body sex. The fact that the workshop is done in the nude. That women come from around the world and strip naked as soon as they are greeted at the door of Betty’s apartment. That we sit in a circle and share how we feel about our bodies, our orgasms. That we do a vulva show and tell and literally open our bodies up for these other women to see. That we are told what makes our vulva unique and beautiful. That we cry and we laugh. That we bring ourselves to orgasm – embracing our pleasure in a circle of women. That we end the day with group massage. That it feels amazing to be loved and accepted by all of these women who were strangers the day before.

All of those things are true. But this weekend I realized the power of body sex as it means to me.

Body sex is about stories. It’s is about looking at the stories I have been told or that I told myself about who I am, my scars, my limitations, my pain, my pleasure or my lack of pleasure. Body sex forced me to let them go. To leave them in the circle. It is the ultimate vulnerability. I came in naked with nothing at all to hide behind. When I began to talk about my problems, I felt kind of silly. As Betty says “The present moment is the point of power.” I started to wonder why the fuck am I telling that story. Who is that story even about? Was it mine, or was it just given to me? I wonder if I needed it as much as it needed me?

But here, in this circle with women from around the globe, I am naked and vulnerable and that story that kept me from ever truly being vulnerable, no longer seems to fit. In that circle, I feel only acceptance, authenticity, love, truth and sisterhood. Those stories I realized, may be a part of me, but they aren’t me. They came off with my clothes at the door, with a smile from a woman beside me in the circle, with the recognition of another’s pain, with tears as I shared, with the acceptance of my vulva, with the cries of my orgasm, with the embracing of my pleasure.

When I am naked and accepted in my nakedness, I don’t need those stories to explain why I am this way. I just AM this way. And every woman in that space saw me just as I am. No longer defined by my stories. The mother, the good girl, the bad girl, the slut, the prude, the victim, the too much. I am just me. And when I left that circle, I realized that I can not go back to those old stories. They are no longer relevant to me. I am me, just as I am and that is fucking brilliant.

With love and gratitude,




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