The Stigma of STDs

Let's talk about sexually transmitted diseases and infections.

You've probably heard someone make a joke about somebody having an STD.

You've probably heard things totally inaccurately compared to STDs.

You've probably met somebody with an STD. And you probably never even knew it.

In fact, the chance you've met somebody with an STD is astronomical. Globally, 1 in 2 persons has genital herpes ( in the United States, 1 in 4 persons you've met has genital herpes).

Sexually transmitted diseases and infections are much more common than people think. Some people have contracted one of the 20+ types of STDs and they don't even know they have it. Some people contracted one or many STDs and they choose to not tell anyone (which is fine, as it's nobody's business but that person's business and the business of whomever they have any sexual encounter with). Some become infected once and are able to clear it up with medicine and they never have to worry about it after that. Some become infected and must take one or several medicines every day, so they don't become very sick. Some become infected and must take their medicine or else they will die.

The problem with our media and pop culture portraying STDs is that there is a terrible stigmatization that comes with it. There's this horribly inaccurate idea within our society has that only "sluts" get STDs and only drug addicts get AIDS, etc. None of that's true.

Moreover, not only is our society making a bad name for people with STDs, but they're making jokes about people with STDs. Not fuckin' cool.

Diseases are not a joke. Having depression is not a joke. Having diabetes is not a joke. Having epilepsy is not a joke. Have HIV/ AIDS is not a joke. Having Any STD Is Not A Fucking Joke.

And do you know why it's not a joke? Because having an STD is not funny. It's not a punchline. It's not a novelty. Contracting an STD is traumatic. It's exactly why rape is never a joke- it's painful and terrifying and serious.

Now, aside from the obvious slut- shaming (which I sincerely hope I don't have to explain why that in itself is shitty), we have got to shut down this idea that only people who sleep around get STDs. Anybody can get an STD. You already know a busload of people who have one now. There are people who have STDs because they were in long- term relationships and their partner was unfaithful. There are people who were born with STDs. There are people who have STDs from the first time they were ever in a sexual encounter. There are people who have STDs from having been raped. There are people who have STDs because someone they were sexual with either did not give a fuck about their partner, so they didn't tell them, or they never even knew they were already infected. The latter is shockingly common. Many STDs begin asymptomatic, and so the person infected doesn't even realize they've got it. All that is to say is that it's not for you to judge. That's not fair. That's not even what a decent human does.

We need to make a safe space for those infected. There are a lot of them out there, and the World we live in isn't kind to them. Living everyday with debilitating pain and weakness and shame is difficult enough, and making the space we share with them a hostile one when we make jokes and stigmatize them is not making them feel safer.

Brother

Brother,
Oh, my God, how you steal my features,
Encapsulate them inside your hands,
Long and slender fingers, like mine,
Silver wedding band on your ring finger.

I want to play Connect the Dots with the sun spots on your shoulders.
I want to sit in the cornucopia of your ear.
I want to sit with you,
3am at the kitchen table,
Cigarette smoldering between your long, slender fingers,
Tell me everything you know about being twenty- one.

Here is the World as I see it now.
There is no fair.
My body has been tired since I was a child.

Brother,
First boy I ever loved.
First boy who ever stood up for me.
On most days, the only boy who stood up for me.

Brother, this World has not been good to me.
You always said there would be struggle,
But
Are my eyes
Supposed to be this dark?
Brother,
I think I am too young to feel so tired.

Self- Immolation

4:36am
I wrote a poem about you I titled "Fire"

It has been two weeks today
I am still burning

And I do this to myself, you know.
You know how I always throw such a fit when I don't get what I want
So I have taken up self- immolation

What happens to people who self- immolate
Is they set themselves on fire
And they sit
And wait

The first twenty minutes are excruciating.
Flesh burns away
Nerve endings, exposed, ablaze and raging
You can literally feel your skin melting off your body

The essence
Is time.

After all the skin and nerves are burned away
You don't feel anything.

Your entire body is in flames
But you can't feel it.

It has been two weeks.
I am still waiting for the stillness.

Free Bleeding: The Art Of Menstruation And How Hilariously Immature The Internet Is Reacting To It

Adult talk time! Today, we're going to talk about Periods! That's right! Periods!

Now, if you already know me personally, you already know I do not shy away from talking about Periods. I talk about my own in casual conversation and pay very little mind to whoever's ear I may be disturbing.

Speaking of people being disturbed and otherwise horrified by menstruation, it would appear that the Internet is just now learning about free bleeding. Free bleeding is the abstinence of using any sort of commercial blood- collecting product aimed for women (eg: pads, tampons, sea sponges, diva cups, etc.), and instead just bleeding freely into the underpants or whatever the menstruating person decides to wear. I have been free bleeding for years and only learned there was an actual word for it like, three years ago.

The Internet is going completely bat shit with this. The Internet is calling free bleeding a "new disturbing Feminist trend." There are people online who either truly believe or are just making rumors- to cause stir for shock value- that free bleeding is denouncing any blood- collecting products as well as any products used for sanitary purposes, because the Internet believes that Feminists seriously think that those things mentioned are "evil, man- made products to rape women." These people promoting this malarkey are mostly Reddit users, 4chan users, or facetious Facebook pages.

I wanted to write this today to, firstly, address the issue of free bleeding, but also explain what's the matter with how people are not just reacting to free bleeding, but menstruation as a whole. And you may be totally fine with free bleeding; I do hope this is the case for most. But I want everyone to see this- whether you're open to free bleeding or not. The issue at hand is much, much deeper than it seems.

I see a lot of people pinning anything they find obscene onto the ideas of Feminism, from misandry to bra abstinence, you name it. Somebody said that free bleeding is a Feminist thing. I am not offended by that. Am I a Feminist? Fuck, yeah. Am I a free bleeder? You bet, I am. But free bleeding and Feminism have, literally, nothing to do with each other. But what has happened is someone read or heard in some form about free bleeding, and they didn't understand it, so they just said, "Egh, some Feminist shit, I guess."

There is nothing radical about menstruating. Menstruating is as natural as childbirth and fucking and sneezing. It's involuntary. Every mammal on our planet menstruates. What is so nasty to you about my choice to not bleed onto a strip on cotton and throw it away when it's drenched in my blood?

In fact, what is so gross about menstruating? Is it because it's a lot of blood? Is it because it came from a uterus? Is it because women are supposed to be attractive at all times and not be bloody and dirty or smelly?

There is nothing gross about Periods. The way people talk about Periods is gross.

You know what is gross? Bleeding on cotton that was picked by hands of poor, under- nourished Brown families or cotton that came from a field, where the crops have been pumped full of chemicals and then thrown away when it's considered "unclean" and dumped into our landfills to stagnate and take up space forever or thrown into our oceans or rivers and polluting our land and sea.

Most women prefer to use disposable products like pads and tampons, and that's fine. If you want to use disposables, I'm not going to tell you how to live your Life, but you do definitely need to know how this affects our ecosystem. There is so much garbage out there now, and it's just growing all the time. The less we can throw out there, the better.

Some women opt for a more environmentally- friendly option, such as reusable pads, diva cups, and sea sponges. I actually own a reusable pad and use it on days where I'm going to be away from home for more than a day and a shower will not be readily available to me but have since then discontinued my use, as I've stopped touring with bands for quite some time.

The previously mentioned options are ideal, if you do not mind washing them. They are all incredibly easy to keep and maintain and use and are all relatively cheap (especially if you consider that you're spending roughly $120.54 every year on pads and tampons). I bought my reusable from Gladrags.com, which is a small business composed of only, like, twelve people actually making the products and distributing them, and they are so wonderful.

I suppose a lot of people would think, "But you're bleeding into your underwear! People will smell that and it will show when you sit down on furniture!" To them, I say that I'll only be smelled if I haven't showered. I am probably cleaner on my period than I am any other time of the month. And as far as bleeding through goes, that has not happened to me ever, because I am really good about wearing panties that are thick, absorbent cotton. And even then, even if I didn't want to talk about it, it would seriously be none of your business what I do when my uterus sheds my lining, just like it's not your business about anything I do.

There are too many people who care way too much about what other people are doing. Is my Period causing you any physical pain? Is this your body? No, it's not at all, and it never will be, so stay the fuck out my uterus, Homes.

This goes for anything. This should go without saying. Let people do what they want. Unless somebody is hurting someone else, leave them alone.

Again, Periods aren't dirty. They're not shameful. They are not a reason to hide yourself or be kept away in a hut away from your family or even your husband. Our patriarchal society has made menstruation something gross and embarrassing. Menstruation has become another thing women are taught to feel ashamed of because of religion or standards of attractiveness. If women and girls are taught to embrace their bodies and to not feel ashamed anymore, we will see a lot of happier and healthier communities.

"There is no such organ quite like the uterus. If men had such an organ, they would brag about it. So should we." -Ina May Gaskin

Sleep Paralysis

An entire playlist of songs
Songs for us to make love to
Songs for us to fall asleep to
Every song was a lullaby
Of when you were mine
This is why I have insomnia now

Fire

I know a boy who was so hot, he burned a hole through my chest.

Some people are pillars of flame that burn everything they touch.
Some people are made of ash and fall apart when you touch them.

Every boy who broke me was both.

I am learning that the reason we call people "hot"
Has less to do with the way their body shines in the Sun
Or the way our capillaries fluctuate
Instead, it has more to do with how we meet people
Who make us sweat
And burn all our clothes off
And leave us as ashes

For Black Men (An Elegy For Mike Brown)

17 year old black boy named Mike Brown, who was supposed to start college tomorrow, was shot to death in Ferguson, Missouri by police while jaywalking. He was unarmed. He was shot 9 times.

Initial media reports claimed that an 18 year old black man had been shot and killed while fleeing police after shoplifting.

People in the neighborhood, including members of Mike Brown’s family, came out of their homes and began to protest, shouting “no justice, no peace,” and keeping their hands in the air.

Media reports claimed that a violent mob quickly formed around the shooting location shouting “kill the police."

Ferguson police have dogs and shotguns

The unarmed crowd is raising their hands

The unarmed crowd is the neighborhood Mark Brown grew up in

His family

His friends

All gather in the streets

NO JUSTICE 

NO PEACE

Rhythmatic to German Sheppard police dog barking

White foam from their snouts

Meanwhile, 

The media reports,

"Black man steals from store,

Shot down by police."

What the media didn't tell you

Was that Mike Brown was supposed to start college today

What the media told you

Is what you saw in the morning

Black coffee in your coffee mug

Before you got in your car and went to work

Your Life goes on

Your children are safe on the streets

Meanwhile, 

Mike Brown's family is screaming

NO JUSTICE

NO PEACE

And the media tells you they're screaming

KILL THE POLICE

Meanwhile, 

Calvin Bryant stands with children

Displaying signs saying

#I CAN'T BREATHE

Because Bryant's friend, Eric Garnder

Was choked to death on the streets

By New York City police

While people in the street pulled out their phones to record the incident

Crowds of people

Gathered around a man screaming

I CAN'T BREATHE

Meanwhile,

LeCree Johnson

Is at home with John Crawford's children

After police shot down John Crawford

Because he was holding a toy gun

LeCree was on the phone with John when she heard him scream

IT'S NOT A REAL GUN

Do you remember when White people were bringing their assault riffles into Target?

Mike Brown had his hands in the air

(As if he had anything to surrender)

When he was shot nine times by cops

Nine bulletholes in a seventeen- year- old boy

(But the media will tell you he was eighteen)

If a Black man puts a bullet in a cop

The whole World hears it

If a White man puts a bullet in an unarmed Black man

Does it make a sound?

If a White man 

Spits the word "nigger"

Does it make a sound?

If you put nine bullets in a boy

Whose skin is the colour of they way you drink your coffee

At 9am, 

Good Morning America

What sound does he make?

Meanwhile, 

Black community in the streets,

NO JUSTICE

NO PEACE

White police men 

White foam at their mouth

Black hands in the air

NO JUSTICE NO PEACE

Letter To Myself At Age Twenty

At age six,
you were chubby- cheeked and full of love.
Boys thought you were cute.
Your best friend,
A chubby Mexican girl
Who liked every single snack you brought in Kindergarten.
You wore glasses
Had a crossbite
Pawpaw Dan called you "Honeysuckle."

At age twelve,
the boys who used to like you called you "ugly."
You were the smallest girl in your class.
You had long, brown hair,
High cheekbones
Full, defined lips.
Self- esteem the size of a ladybug.

At age thirteen,
all the girls in your class were developing breasts.
Your mother shamed you for your skin,
Growing acne,
Blooming on your face like poppies in the fields of Iran.
You wore two bras everyday to school.
You thought you were fat because of a joke your brother made,
Etching into your brain,
Because you loved and trusted him,
You didn't believe he would ever lie to you.
You found out he had been lying the night you undressed in front of your mirror.
You turned your torso,
Your spine, overexposed,
Sticking out like it would jump out of your body at any moment.
You cried yourself to sleep that night.
You were crying yourself to sleep a lot around this time,
But you weren't so sure why.

At age fourteen,
you were short- hair,
Black eyeliner,
Combat boots,
Ripped jeans,
Bands who screamed what they wanted to say,
And a Punk attitude,
Before you even knew what a Punk was.
Your earliest metanoia.
Sneaking out of your bedroom window.
Kissing Tiffany in the girls' bathroom at gym.
Getting high with Brittany on the weekends.
Early Feminist in a little girl's body.
But, Kid,
You didn't know shit.

At age sixteen,
a boy you liked kissed you for the first time.
Holding hands in his truck.
Smoking weed at his best friend's house through tinfoil.
When he took your virginity,
It took you a almost a year after he broke up with you to admit
You never said "yes" to him.

At age seventeen,
you were in love with a boy with blue eyes and long hair.
After the first time he called you a "bitch,"
You understood how bad your self- worth was.
And you stayed,
Because you didn't think you deserved better.

At age nineteen,
you broke up with that boy with the long hair
And the sharp tongue.
After having it drilled into your head that you weren't worthy of love
Or confidence,
You started accepting it, from anyone who would offer it to you.
You didn't care about names.
They say there's something that happens to people who get hurt.
Something crazy in them.
You started sleeping around.
It started with a drunken mistake.
You didn't tell him "yes," either.
More and more after that,
Because you knew what happens when you said "no."
Not long after that,
You tried to take your Life.
You opened the skin on your arms
On the bathroom floor of the apartment you lived in with your two best friends.
There is something surreal and awful about hearing your best friend screaming your name in panic.

At age twenty,
you've kicked a hell of a lot of people out of your Life.
You don't look boys in the face.
You walk like thunder.
Your tongue knows kindness
And it knows malice,
And it knows that using the latter doesn't make progress.
You're learning that "beautiful"
Doesn't need to be seen.
You do not need it from a boy's mouth.
You don't need it texted it to you at 2am from a belly full of booze.
It will come from you.
You are consistently evolving.
There is no permanence in your twenties.
Beauty can shine on your arms.
You can wear it on your sleeve.
You can see it on the horizon at Bellah Mine, where your friends take you swimming.
You can see it when your cousin, Ember, laughs from her belly,
Because she's come so far, and she is so much stronger than she knows.
Your mother did not birth you into this World like stars colliding in our Universe,
So you could hate and destroy yourself.
Because if you never learn how you are beautiful,
How is everyone else going to see it?

All I Loved, I Loved Alone

There are going to be days when people tell you that you look exhausted and rocky- eyed.
Look them in the face. Tell them, "This is how I'm supposed to look today."

Forget the word "trigger."
Flashbacks will have no triggers.
There will be times when the flashbacks hit you like a coastal hurricane,
When you're standing behind the counter at work,
With the customer patiently waiting for his change,
And all you will be able to do is stand there, not knowing what to do with your hands.

There will be times you will want to call.
Don't do it.
Because the sound of his phone going to Voicemail
Will be twice as painful as hearing his voice.

There will be days you won't be able to do anything but howl and claw and fall apart.
Do it.
Let your face become a river of choke and snot and stinging, hot tears.

There will be days you won't be able to do anything at all.
Do it.
Call in for work. Close the blinds. Hide in the covers.

There will be a time when "stay" will be the most Heart- breaking thing you will ever hear.

KEB

I told him, "You trip me out pretty good."

He said to me, "Good, because you walk on my feet."

Trigger Warning

My male friends use "rape" as a synonym for "beat" when they play games. Sometimes I ask them not to. They disregard it.

And everytime they disregard how I feel, it's a consistent reminder that I am a woman, and men will not respect me when I beg them to stop.

Text For Last Night

I'm a stupid woman, and you love me, so you're a stupid man. And I've howled at the Moon so much, my lungs are sore and raw, and I'm coughing up blood like raspberries all over my porcelain skin, where you've laid your hand your head your face, traced all over me. And your kiss feels like home, and I'm so fucking homesick. And now that I've thrown my stupid body against the wall so much, I can see, now, that I'm not angry at you. I'm angry at me for letting you slip from my tiny fingers and into the arms of somebody else. I'm not angry at you for trying to fix what I shattered like my car on a foggy morning on the road you and I traveled endlessly on nights like this one. I'm angry at me. I'm fucking pissed at myself because you aren't mine. And you never will be. I don't believe you ever were, but that's alright. I have kicked and screamed and cursed you away so many times and begged my forgiveness back into your Heart a thousand fucking times. And here I am again. I hope you meant it last night when you said you were done with me. I hope you read every word of this and delete them immediately and go to bed, without a word to me. I hope you have plans to see somebody pretty. I hope she kisses you with a mouth that was softer than mine. I hope you fall in love with her like you love the Winter. I hope she holds you late at night and buries your bruises in her skin and you never hurt yourself ever again. Because it's all what you deserve. I'm not bitter. I'm broken, Baby. I was never whole, and I never will be. But, goddamn, you made me feel like I was pretty close to it. I never meant it when I said I hoped my exes the best in Life. I mean it right now. You deserve it. Goodnight. I'm sorry.

Song For The Wounded

You were the best thing and the worst thing in my Life, my Dear.
The light has gone out.
And soon, maybe you will, too.

I Miss You

10:05 pm
I can't quit shaking
You are someplace nice without me
And I am alone, waiting for a boy to take me out to the lake
But I just want to be with you
But you are miles away
And I cannot stop the shaking
And the Lexapro isn't working for me
And I can't quit biting my tongue in my sleep
And I'd kill just to watch you sleeping tonight
And I can't erase your face in my head
And you are still tangled in my hair
And somebody is making you laugh, and I can't hear it
And I am sleeping too much
And I don't have anything to look forward to anymore
And somebody will marry you, and it won't be me
And I have no idea how to cope when it's late at night
And I can't stop shaking
And I'm breaking
Come back to me
Please, stay.