Jujumama's Love Academy

So yesterday I had a gut wrenching experience on Twitter.  This boy was talking to me.  He seemed drunk or something, maybe high.  He and I always talk; he is a really cool cat from Chicago.  He wants to know if the tour will stop in Chi town.  I think it will!  We’re looking at Monday August 3!

Either way, this boy, in his drunken stupor, twitted me a deeply eye-opening message.  After addressing him as King, which is the way I address most men I come into contact with, he wrote me back addressing me as Queen FREAK!

QUEEN FREAK!  WTF?

This pounded me to the floor of my soul.  I felt the rip inside of me and immediately I was back in high school where FREAK was the worst word in the world.  Ladies, do you feel me?  I hated THAT word!  I hated it with a passion.  I probably hated it most when I was the subject of the conversation in which it was used which seemed unavoidable in my school.  Every girl was at one point or another considered a FREAK.  This Twitter boy was offering me the opportunity to grow past my teenage self!  A real blissing in disguise…

As I think back, I think this word became an issue for me in elementary school.  Maybe you can relate… On the playground the boys would chase us girls down and smooch the booty – do you recall it?  Maybe it was a Detroit thing, but the boys would pin us to the fence and touch our little developing butts through the other side of the fence!  Then they would call us names like Freak and so forth and laugh and run away.

Seems strange for third grade girls and boys to behave this way, even as teachers stood about hovering as we ‘played’.  To have the boys chase, that was exhilarating, but that the boys didn’t appreciate catching us, they didn’t enjoy the smooch of the butt so much as they enjoyed insulting us on the playground… this was peculiar.

Come middle school, the boys were more smooth with it and there was no recess.  So there were minor incidents of butt pinching usually done by a boy who then pretended that it wasn’t him.  You’d feel a tap on that juicy pre-teen bottom only to turn about facing a group of boys laughing, but no one fessing up.  If you got loud and tried to find the culprit, THEN you were a freak! 

FREAK literally meant that you were sexually permissive, loose, stinky in the crotch area, or publicly horny.  If you were caught kissing a boy at the dance or in the hallway, you might be deemed a freak.  If you were known to have had sex with any boy you were definitely a FREAK!  So much for healthy development into a life of fulfilling sensual bliss!

I was scared as hell of this word!  I did not want to be a FREAK!  Thus I attempted to hide my sensual self.  I knew that I was sensually open, I wanted sensual love, I had seen enough porn by the age ten to know how to masturbate to achieve clitoral orgasm, and was anxious to try it with a boy… but FREAK?  No way, I did not want to risk it… or did I?  Did you?

Eventually high school would come and I would “fall in love with a boy”.  Fully mindful of the threat of becoming the FREAK of the WEEK, I began to make out with the boy in the hallway, in the bathroom, and anywhere we could find a private moment.  I thought it might be safe to kiss because the boy was popular and maybe it would up my status. I did have sex with this boy… eventually. It was our 6-month anniversary; after school and headed for his house.  When we did, his friend was hiding in the closet and did not hesitate to go back to school and tell EVERYONE!  I was immediately deemed a FREAK.

So Queen Freak was a surprise to me on Saturday.  Not the word, but the fact that it still effects me.  And then I think about all the women I have reached over the course of the tour.  I have women telling me that at the age 40 or 45 or 50 they are still afraid of being called a Slut by neighbors and peers so they refrain from following natural, healthy drive for sensual bliss.  I have women who have broken into tears asking me to help them become free of the stigma.  They want to move like Goddesses upon the Earth, talk and walk sexily, and be sensually FREE!  But they (even after a half century) feel they cannot.

To them I say, do as I did and continue to do – walk backward and find out where the stigma began?  Who told you you’d be considered a freak?  Was is based on sound logic, or simply based on boys who wanted to experience sex, girls who wanted to flow naturally with sensually energy but could not?  Are the terms freak, slut, whore and ho based on something real or contrived by a society that will some day acknowledge feminine bliss?  Currently, the stigma remains, but it does not have to.  We have a choice at this juncture.  We can continue to follow patriarchal malarkey that states that men are the only ones free to make love and feel good about it, or we can create a new day.

My choice?  Oh hell yes!  Create a new day!  I am a sensual DIVA, I acknowledge and fully stand in all the parts of me.  All parts of me are sacred, including my drive for sensual bliss.  I choose to trust that nothing is against me, not even my natural drive to have pleasure.  Nothing is against me, not even my desire to attract men!  Nothing is against me, even my level of magnetism that is frankly, off the charts!  I embrace my inner Goddess – all of them – the nurturer, the entrepreneur, the wealthy DIVA, the priestess AND the sexy empress of love.  I embrace her.  She is not a freak or whore, rather, she is a Magical Creatress (that word does not exist on Spell Check!  LOL!)!  Sex is sacred and through using this creative force called sensual bliss, I can create anything I want!  How about you?

Love and light to you!  Bliss and joy to you!  If they want to call it a freak – so be it – to me she is a luscious, divine, moist and receptive, princess of peace!

JujuMama xoxoxoxox