Three weeks ago I facilitated my 14th Bodysex retreat — the third one in Quebec with Marika. Each retreat I’ve led this past year, I’ve noticed my level of comfortableness and confidence increasing. I’m less concerned about doing it “right” and more able to be present with and for the women. Being more present means not only hearing the women’s stories, but feeling them in my body— even when they’re speaking a language I don’t understand. Feeling others in this way connects me to them on a level that can be limited by language, and reminds me of the beautiful moments in sexual intimacy that involve only eyes, hands and mouths. 

As I opened the circle I shared my journey into Bodysex and how it began 20 years ago when I witnessed girls I loved being circumcised in Kenya. One of the women pointed out that in Kenya a woman’s power is removed physically through the cutting of her clitoris, and here it is removed mentally by not talking about or acknowledging her sexual genitalia and right to pleasure. When we don’t talk about something, it’s as if it didn’t exist in the first place. I believe that a way to honour the women who’s pleasure has been taken from them, is for the rest of us to exercise our right.  The right to look at our vulvas, touch them, understand them and pleasure them.

And we did!!! The weekend was a beautiful display of vulnerability in the sharing of our stories, our bodies and our pleasure. Never has a workshop gone on for so many hours each day and yet it still felt as if there wasn’t enough time for all we wanted to share and do. 

What struck me most though, was how many layers of shame I still carry. I’m comfortable in my body now and I don’t find it difficult to be naked, show my vulva or masturbate with other women. Yet without fail it seems, an old story of mine comes up, and the thought of sharing it makes me feel sick to my stomach. This physical response is a good indicator to me of what holding it in is doing to my body, and I know that the answer is in sharing it. Knowing this doesn’t make it easy to do, and I battled in my head wondering how they’d feel about me once they knew it. Reminding myself that I can’t ask anyone else to show up and be vulnerable if I’m not willing to do it myself, I shared my story. 

Letting go of shame is the best release ever and almost immediately the space it was occupying inside of me, felt free — free for more pleasure, more authentic relationships and more me. 

As we spent time sharing pleasure during the second day, I kept my eyes open and focused them on a spot on the ceiling to keep me present. As my pleasure built I heard giggling from a woman in her 60’s, only a hands width distance beside me, and looked over to see the flush rise up her neck as she orgasmed. Giggling more she continued on — 2, 3, 4 — more times and I thought how beautiful she looked and how lucky her lover is to see her in this way. What an honour. Looking back at my spot on the ceiling the wood began to blur, and my pleasure kept building. The ceiling became the sky and I alternated my breath from high in my chest to low in my belly so that I could stay in that place of ecstasy.  At the point of no return I opened my left hand into the air to receive energy from the women around me and felt their love, acceptance, pain, joy, shame and pleasure along with my orgasm — like stars falling down upon me. 

This circle and the vulnerability of all the women in it, reminded me that we do this hard, brave work not only for ourselves, but for women who can’t or couldn’t. It’s not easy, but it’s an honour and a right and at times like these I know that the affect of our opening extends far beyond the walls of the workshop space. 

To every woman who has had her pleasure removed physically or mentally we do this for us and we do this for you. <3

To my sisters in pleasure:

Zaia, Ananda, Esmeralda, Sao, Red velvet, Mia, Rosie, Mariposa, Xochitl, J’Ouvre, Hot, Kali