Jul 202010
 

Welcoming me to the restroom in Athens, GA - one of my last sights while moving out.

Welcoming me to the restroom in Athens, GA. It was also one of my last sights while moving out.

Yes, that’s a rack of bootleg porn labled only by ethnicity and it’s one of the last things I saw when leaving Athens, GA.  No, I didn’t stop in a smut shop before leaving with my mom, four pets, and a van full of suitcases.  The display was sitting right next to the restroom in a large, popular, modern and (otherwise) clean gas station on the Atlanta Highway, just a couple of miles from the University of Georgia.  I’m very picky about my public potties, you know, so even I was a bit surprised to be greeted by bootleg porn on my way to the powder room.

Today is the one year anniversary of when my sweetie started his job, thus moving us from Georgia to the wonderful and inspiring DC area, so it seems like a good day to go down memory lane.  We moved into our new place just a few weeks later, where I proceded to explore so many joyful reminders that sexuality is handled differently all over the country.

I proudly admit I am enternally grateful for my training and experience as a sexuality educator in the deep and dirty south.   It’s where I learned how to work with my favorite type of clients, those with a generally calm and somewhat socially conservative exterior along with a desire to reclaim, explore and enhance their personal lives.  Don’t get me wrong, I adore my shock factor clients, too!  But there is nothing like the grin that comes across the face of couple who has just discovered how to use their first sex toy together, of the feeling of pride that glows from a woman who has successfully learned to have clitoral orgasms whenever she wants them.  The further south you go the more such sex-positive education is a radical act of resistance against a sexually sufficating culture, and the more admiration I have for those who dare to experience sexual intimacy without shame.  Or, at least, without letting shame stop them.

Washington DC is not a sexual utopia, by any means.  As with every other city in the country, my womens’ workshops on how to please your (her) man or how to enjoy anal stimulation will always sell out before the workshops on becoming orgasmic.  I am rarely able to book workshops aimed toward men or the queer community, although couple’s workshops are increasing and I’ve had some wonderful same-sex-attracted ladies at my recent events.

But, you know what?  I love it here.  It is so refreshing to wake up every morning in a place where vibrators are legal and know I’m only a couple of miles from a district where same-sex marriage is, too.  I eagerly await the day that Maryland follows suit, so that I can get my license to officiate.  People take their politics and freedoms seriously here.  We don’t all agree, but it’s the fact that we disagree publicly and passionately that makes me smile.  Sexual-positive education is a legitmate field here.  We’re a small but mighty group  of professionals and we’re able to bring our message to the public in way I’ve never experienced in any of my prior hometowns.  There is room for smut shops and there is room for a classy sex boutique or two.  The best, most open source of sexuality information or entertainment is not restricted to a display of bootleg porn wedged between the hat rack and the atm, back by the bathrooms, roughly organized by the racist heirarchy of the region.

I’m certain that there are gas stations around here selling bootleg (presumably straight) porn with only the ethnicities on the box.  Yet, I have to say that the photo I took on my way out of the restroom in Georgia aptly symbolizes my experience of the broader sexual climate.

Georgia, I will always love you and I hope to see you often, but we just can’t live together anymore.  I think Mary(land) and I are going to be together for quite some time.

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