Monthly Archives: November 2014

The Internalized Misogyny of Fem Doms and Sex Pozzies

When I was a female pro Domme ($ only, not lifestyle), I thought I was being empowered, but I was merely mimicking men, male attitudes, and male versions of sexual activities. The damaging, wholly ignorant, lib fem, and sex poz, beliefs made these actions feel progressive; I believe had I not been introduced to these ideas, I would not have gone into the pornified world of male deviance like I did. It was the legitimacy of (the appropriation) the term “feminism” that allowed me to remain comfortable with my choices, my twisted world view was not challenged by anyone, especially myself.

Recently I have realized that I had been so fully, utterly, colonized by men, that I had internalized the male gaze, and became limited to viewing the world through the male point of view. Destructive misogyny subsumed me so profoundly, that it became my entire personality (if you can even call it that), and internal identity. I had always wanted all of what I took to belonged to men, rather than the attributes assigned to women. Even as a child, I never identified with the limitations of the feminine role. Instead, I behaved as if I was an aggressive, overtly sexual, male, but with my very female, stripper inspired, physical image.

As a pro domme, I was in no way acting as a “strong, empowered, women in ownership of her own sexuality”; it was the furthest thing from it. I mainly abused men, for pay, and it made me feel truly masculine, powerful, and strong, even though it put me in a vulnerable situation legally and physically (safety). There is a term in kink lingo that (poorly) illustrates how dommes can be the unwitting servants: “topping from the bottom”. The male always wielded the power, that it was ever handed over was only an illusion for his sexual gratification. The reality was that I was intensely servile, under a mask of dominance that even I thought was real. The fact is, the act of kink (or sex, stripping, etc) for pay put me in a truly submissive position, having to cater to male needs, and desires, in order to survive financially.

I had become a true, enthusiastic, believer of sex poz, and a walking embodiment of the left wing image of an ideal women, like a Maxim cover come to life. Instead of having “agency”, I played right into exactly what the modern man desires in a female, as my entire sexuality was based on pornified images and the desires of the sickest of men. And sick it was; I participated in things that ought to inspire utter disgust, but sex poz ideals teach you to not just accept, but celebrate even the most repellant of sex acts. Any sign of less than standard enthusiasm for someones particular kink could garner you the label of “prude”, “hater”, “kinkphobic”etc. There was no room for any type of disapproval, no matter how mild, so you learn to quash any self doubt and censor yourself completely.

And I was the ultimate collaborator. Thankfully, it was rare to have a female, other than the other domme, but I occasionally brought in a submissive friend of mine, if a client requested her. It didn’t bother me, but it should have. I should have listened to my original objections, but I went ahead with the idea that this whole endeavor was empowering, proof of agency and power, even feminist (!!!). It allowed the self deception necessary to hurt a friend in this way; if she chose it, what could be wrong with it? This was how I thought, so dedicated I was to serving the orgasms of random men.

The truth is, there is nothing at all empowering about any type of sex work, no matter what these seThe truth is, there is nothing at all empowering about any type of sex work, no matter what these sex pozzers like to say. I am still working very hard to de-colonize my mind from the decades of internalized misogyny, and then the destructive, seductive, LIES of 3rd wave activists.


AVOCA Awareness Week- Death of Betty Todd

Content note- graphic descriptions of injuries caused by pit bull mauling

Betty Anne Chapman Todd was a wonderful women, full of life and love. A beautiful, elder, women, brutally killed by her son’s family pit bull. She was torn to pieces, her spinal cord shredded, while defending her granddaughters, the oldest of which (12), had tried to pull the dogs off and failed. I cannot imagine the horror that poor child was faced with, and the terror she lives with. I still have visions of my attack, so I know how long term it can be.

All of this horror could have been avoided. This pit had already killed a husky, and the “humane” society the family went to for advice, had told them to have the dog neutered (they did), instead of having it euthanized. This is commonplace- to tell families that dog aggression is no big deal, and can be easily handled. This lie kills.

But you know what I think about anytime In read one of these stories? I think of those womyn that don’t have their stories lovingly told, like Christina Burleson, a homeless women that was mauled to death in Houston early this year. She was a sweet spirit, that loved ALL animals and was always feeding them. She died out in the streets, her story barely made the news. All of these tragedies should be shared far and wide.

From the link:
“Half my mother’s head was draped with a sheet. There was no mistaking the damage underneath, but when I looked, it struck me that she had actually been mauled, literally ripped apart and eaten by a savage animal. Her arms and hands had bite marks all over them, like puncture wounds from the vicious dog’s teeth sinking into her and there were hundreds of them! My mother’s hands did not look like hers. Most of her face was missing on the right side, her ear, her scalp looked detached or loose, and it looked like her spine protruding from the back of her neck when I looked closely. She appeared to have not a drop of blood in her body.

It was in that room that I was cruelly slapped with overwhelming reality of what my teeny tiny, gentle mother had felt: the actual attack itself, how she must have hurt, the excruciating pain of it all, the confusion, her fear, her battle to stop the dog, to protect my nephew and nieces, her realization that she was going to die and the children were going to be left unguarded and alone, her cries, her prayer to God, and it unnerved me. This wasn’t a lion that had killed my mother. It was a domesticated pet, a dog that had been loved, treated kindly, yet she looked like she’d been used as a chew toy and eaten by a wild beast. I couldn’t breathe. I had to get out of there and I left.”

To read the rest, and learn more about AVOCA, please head to:

Femicide in Mexico

Recently I was telling someone about another particularly gruesome event that had just happened in Mexico, and how it bothered me, and he said:
“Why do you even care? Why do you read that negative stuff anyway, its not like you can do anything about it. What do you do other than complain online? You should quit reading that stuff, and stick to happy news!”

Honestly, I didn’t really have a good response for him at the time. I was so surprised that anyone would think this way, that all I could get out was a few pithy lines about why its important not to be an ignorant fool about the world we live in.
But it bothered me.
I don’t want to be a keyboard warrior, but there are just so many things happening out there that I simply do not have any control over, no matter how much I want to help. He made me question myself- why *was* I continuing to read more, knowing I would be getting upset over atrocities happening to women and girls thousands of miles away, knowing nothing I could do would matter?
But I couldn’t stop following these stories like these:

I have decided that sometimes, just being witness to this suffering is something. These women should not be forgotten, their suffering should not go unnoticed. They lived, they mattered. I may be a nobody, but the lives of other women count to me, and if that means I bum someone out by telling them about a new narco fosa (mass grave) was found, or another female blogger was beheaded for sharing info about the cartel to keep her neighbors safe, so be it.

I am sure it was the few years I spent living in Mexico that made me aware of the extreme violence that is commonplace all over the nation. While we in America occasionally hear about the cartels, narcos, and kidnappings, we rarely hear about the toll the lawlessness takes on women and girls. As always, females are the hardest hit, most abused; in areas where men are rounded up and executed, the women suffer far worse fates. The sheer volume and brutality is shocking.

The story I linked was from 2 weeks ago, and is just one example of how women are being murdered in droves. The blog I am linking to, Borderland Beat, is an amazing work of journalism, and is run by a very talented and caring women. Sadly, she is leaving after years of this extremely dangerous work, but the site will remain valuable due to the other contributors. If you care to know what is really going on in Mexico these days, this is the place for real news.