I'm not going to fight it

Look at me. Feel the electricity. Feel the passion.
Admire me. Create me. Possess me. Explore me. Enjoy me.



Something about me oozes sex. It is in my eyes, it is in my walk, it is in my interaction with people and my presence in a room. It has been a quality inherently belonging to me long before I recognized it.

I remember the day it changed. I remember the moment when in the eyes of society I changed. Overnight I became a sexual being. Naïve, I was unaware of how it happened, and I had no idea how to handle it.

I put on a dress, sleek it flowed to the floor and clung to curves I was unaware I had. It hugged my hips and displayed my breasts. The bell sleeves and vibrant colours created a fantasy, and unbeknownst to me, I became it. I was fourteen. It was Halloween. From that day on my sex appeal was obvious and intense.

But becoming a sexual object in the eyes of the men and women around me in no way prepared me to come into my own sexuality. I have been told I am hypnotic, addictive. Men desire to possess and fuck me. Confident women enjoy my sexuality, but many insecure individuals are threatened and do not understand it. Friends enjoy being in my presence, and watching the sensual way I live. There have been many conversations over the years discussing what it is about me. An ex told me once that he didn’t understand what it was but that it was like he could “smell my pheromones”

Over the years I have questioned, despised, explored, used, and ignored my sex appeal. It flows in waves of power and submission as I have struggled to understand something I am aware of only on an instinctive level.

For months I have been angry and resentful of men viewing me as a sex object. I feel the resentment fading. I feel the acceptance wash through me. I am a sexual being. Everyone knows it. Perhaps not something that many people are able to put into words or understand, everyone just knows.

I cannot blame men for my inherent sexual power. I cannot blame men for responding to me. I will not blame men for my sexuality. It’s not something I do for approval or gain. I just am. I cannot, nor do I wish to, change the very core of who I am.

Yes, I am more than tits and ass. I am a thinking, feeling, dynamic and complex woman. I am beginning to recognize my innate potential as it relates to the Sacred Goddesses of our matriarchal history. There was a time when Sacred Whores reveled in power and respect. There was a time when shame was not attached to female sexuality.

Yes, many men and women look at me and feel the sexual tension. Yes I can illicit fantasies with my eyes or my words. Yes I can create an escapist universe. I know it has nothing to do with my being a stripper. If anything my current occupation has allowed the opportunity to distance and cultivate a power that I have struggled to accept and understand for over a decade. I cannot embrace my entire being unless I love, accept and live my sexual power.

I interact with the world sensually. I live through my senses and fall in love with the moment. Every taste that liquefies over my tongue, every soft caress of my skin, every aroma I inhale, and every lyric that plays through my memory… stimulates sensual passion. I close my eyes and heighten the senses, increase the passion. I stare into your eyes and convey the desire, the fantasy, and the potential.

I’m not going to fight it, nor resent it or the men that respond to it. I am finally coming to terms with that power, and it’s fucking beautiful.