The first thing I remember wanting to be, was white. Not because I was told my brown sugar wasn’t sweet but because bitterness was implied by subtle undertones and sideways glances-- rooted deep in the human psyche. There was a growing in my mind. That growing was rooted in lack. It chanted and chanted you are not enough, and I believed it.
It’s been about two years since I posted Diary Entry of a Chronic Masturbator (DECM), and it was quite the admission-- speaking so openly about female masturbation and my desire to stop doing it. After the post, I received emails and text messages commending my bravery. After every performance, women would walk up to me and say, “Thank you. No one talks about this.” I also received a few notes that said, “And what’s wrong that? There is nothing wrong with taking care of yourself.” Either way, I thought it time to revisit and give you all an update.
Okay, I’ve decided to be the change I’d like to see.
I have grown tired…tired of edited, rehearsed, half-truth testimonies. Tired of people—myself included—skipping over the nitty gritty. Tired of being scared of what people will think if they find this out about me. I’m tired of the shame, tired of defeat, I’m just tired.
I suppose by the end you may think of me differently, if you do you do, que sera sera, the only mind that matters to me now is the Lord’s and he already knows. So here it is:
Last night I masturbated.
I have always been a grass is greener type of girl. Never able to see clearly all that I had because I was so focused on what everyone else had, and then what I did not. I remember convincing myself again and again, that I was not enough. If only I was taller, thinner, if my hair was longer, if I was smarter, if only I was richer, the list goes on and on. Over time layer after layer of dissatisfaction formed a mound in my belly and swelled like that of a malnourished child.