the war on women.

The Republicans just eliminated Title X. And also banned Planned Parenthood from receiving any federal funding.

The mind reels.

Title X is one of the most cost effective programs the federal government has. Funds are allocated to the states. The state health departments then distribute these funds through a grant application process to non-profit health centers and local health departments. The health centers then are able to provide sliding fee scale reproductive health care services to women and teenage girls.

The services fund STI testing and treatment, pap smears, breast exams and help pay for birth control.

Title X services have helped prevent millions of pregnancies, and save the medicaid system millions of dollars.

According to a study done by the Guttmacher Institute:

National family planning programs prevents 1.94 million unintended pregnancies, including almost 400,000 teen pregnancies, each year. These pregnancies would result in 860,000 unintended births, 810,000 abortions and 270,000 miscarriages, according to a new Guttmacher Institute report.

Absent publicly funded family planning services, the U.S. abortion rate would be nearly two-thirds higher than it currently is, and nearly twice as high among poor women.

Publicly funded family planning services are highly cost-effective. More than nine in 10 women receiving them would be eligible for Medicaid-funded prenatal, delivery and postpartum care services if they became pregnant. Avoiding the significant costs associated with these unintended births saves taxpayers $4 for every $1 spent on family planning.

Guttmacher Institute February 24, 2009

The death of Title X is not assured. The bill will have to go through reconciliation with the Senate and then to the President.

Ending Title X would be a disaster for our nation. The people behind this movement, while claiming to take this action to work against abortion are instead bringing on a national health crisis. They say that Planned Parenthood uses Title X funds to indirectly support their abortion practice. I can tell you with certainty, that's not true. If anything, the abortion practice helps to subsidize additional reproductive health services for women. Planned Parenthood is one of the finest health care providers in the nation, and the largest single provider of reproductive health care in the United States.

Where will these millions of women turn for reproductive health care? How many cases of breast cancer will go undiagnosed? How many case of cervical cancer will not be prevented? Or be missed? How many young women will avoid accessing birth control because they can't afford a doctor's visit? And how many of these same women will end up pregnant?

All in the name of what? Bias against Planned Parenthood. Bias against abortion and the freedom to choose abortion. Bias against birth control. Bias against women.

Call your Senator now and tell them to stop this atrocity.

Porn. The scarlet P

Last Fall, student organizers at Oregon State University approached author, educator and award winning pornographer, Tristan Taormino to provide a keynote presentation at a conference called Modern Sex: Privilege, Communication, and Culture Conference.

Choosing Tristan to speak at this conference makes sense. She is one of the leading sex educators in the country. She has spoken at multiple colleges and universities, including Yale and Harvard. She wrote a column in the Village Voice for ten years. She has won multiple AVN Awards and Feminist Porn Awards. She is smart, insightful and well connected. She is able to discuss sex and sexuality from multiple perspectives - especially those related to how we communicate about sex.

This week, after tickets to the event had been purchased, and while her contract was going through the final signing process, she was disinvited from the event. The explanation was as follows:

Organizers of the upcoming Modern Sex Conference at OSU recently sought approval to bring in a speaker for that event by presenting a partial description of the speaker in question as a writer and sex advice columnist. However, as arrangements were being made to complete the contract for the speaker, it became clear to those providing taxpayer funding for the conference that the speaker, in fact, is also a self-described pornographer with a significant online business in video pornography and related material. A decision was made by Student Affairs leadership that using public funds to cover a speaking fee and travel expenses for the speaker constituted an inappropriate use of those funds, and the speaker’s appearance was thus cancelled.

Travel costs already incurred by the speaker in preparation for her appearance at the university will be reimbursed.

The statement isn't exactly correct - the approval process was started last fall. And, although I have no idea what the students at OSU wrote on their forms, Tristan has never hidden the part of her job that includes pornography. Its part and parcel of what she does.

So what is this really about?

OSU has a right to decide how to spend their money. That's part of how they exercise free speech. As a public institution, they have to answer for how they spend their money, not just to a board, but to the legislature. This conference is being paid for with general funds. In other words, with tax payer money. Frequently, this issue is avoided when controversial speakers are brought to campus by paying for these speakers with student fee funds. This money belongs to the students and is not allocated to the institution from the legislature. When I have taught at public universities, it was these funds which were used to pay me.

Paying for things with student money, makes it easier. But why is it necessary? Would a public insititution balk at bringing in an anti-pornography activist and paying for that person with public money? I doubt it.

What is it about someone participating in pornography that causes an administration to back off?

It's fear.

Right now, our politicians are living in fear. Creating it. Selling it. Manipulating it.

State budgets are tight all across the country. And it is extremely possible that a state legislature would use something like this as an excuse to slash the university budget.

The actions of the university are understandable. But they are not excusable.

As an institution of higher learning it is the responsibility of the administration to provide it's students with access to multiple perspectives. Especially perspectives that may be controversial. Listening to people with whom one disagrees, working to understand different perspectives is a critical part of a good, solid education. Learning how to listen to an argument, compare it to your own experiences, academic knowledge and personal values and synthesize a well thought out opinion is how we become active, useful members of a democratic society. Stifling debate or access to opinion is the death knell of a healthy culture.

How is one to have a legitimate and comprehensive discussion about sex and communication in the United States without including some discussion of pornography? Like it or not, it's part of the fabric of our sexuality. And it's legal.

And why was it ok to include the author of "The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women", but not the director of "The Expert Guide to Fellatio". Why does the act of putting something on HD change who someone is? It's non-sensical.

OSUs decision to exclude Tristan Taormino from their campus is to the detriment of their community and to their academic credentials. I sincerely hope that they find some back bone and revisit their decision.

MiMi (or the pebble) review

Recently we got to review JeJoue's newest toy: the Mimi.

And it gets a double thumbs up. Here's our video review - and for those of you who prefer to read their reviews - skip to below the video and keep reading!




The MiMi is a great, simple, elegant, moderately priced, rechargeable toy from JeJoue.

It has a no fuss, pebble-like shape (as the one of the folks from Milwaukee's fabulous Tool Shed pointed out) that is great for clitoral stimulation, teasing the entrance to the vagina, tucking into a Spare Parts harness, cupping against the perineum behind the scrotum or trailing across nipples.

It comes with five levels of vibration and then five patterns. The highest vibe setting is comparable in intensity to that of Lelo's Siri, but it has a frequency that is not as thumpy - more in the mid to slightly over the mid range in frequency.

It's waterproof and comes with a magnetic charger - so no prongs to break off!

Overall, at $80 you just can't beat this toy - the controls are easy to use. It didn't get hot with use and seems to be holding a charge well.

Sometimes, simple is where you need to be!

sex bloggers and calendars oh my!

Friday morning we drove thru the pouring rain - let me be clear - this wasn't just pouring it was torrential. It was the dog refuses to go outside torrential. Can't see very far ahead torrential. In fact, I wouldn't have been surprised to see actual cats and dogs falling from the sky. Traumatized, but not surprised. But we made it to New York in good time. Ran some NY errands, grabbed an extremely yummy lunch (macaroni and cheese with spinach and roasted chicken? yeah, i'd like some more please), laid down for a few minutes and got ready for the party.

We hopped on the subway and went off to the party.

Each year since 2008 (or so) the NY Sex Blogger Calendar has been released. I'll let them tell you all about it:

The NYC Sex Bloggers Calendar seeks to bring the sex-positive community together in a fun and interactive way that results in the funding of sex-positive organizations. We believe that sexual freedom is a basic human right and we hope that our calendar succeeds in spreading that idea far and wide.The benefactor chosen for 2011 is Woodhull Freedom Foundation - Affirming Sexual Freedom as a Fundamental Human Right.

Each year to celebrate the new calendar they have a party featuring the calendar models, vendors and sponsors and anyone else who wants to go. AND, there are gift bags. With good stuff. Including, stuff from Sugar. This year it was Nasty Bands!

We showed up early to add Sugar's contribution to the gift bags. Which involved me crawling on the floor. In a tiny dress and high heels. And managing to not flash anyone. Because my mama raised me right. S (who's a smidge smaller than me) crawled to the banquette at the back and loaded those bags. It didn't take long til we were seated with a drink and looking around.

And the eye candy was good.

Women in latex, women in corsets. Men in suits. Men in leather. Gender queer folks in all kinds of deliciousness. So we started mingling. Which, by the way, I hate. Talking to strangers is one of my least favorite activities of all times. Customers - awesome - we have something specific to discuss. Friends of friend - good - again something in common. But, simply showing up at a sex bloggers calendar party seemed a little thin. But I took a deep breath, gripped S's hand and dove in. In short order, I found nice strangers and people I already knew. Yay for the folks I already knew!

Jamye Waxman is one of m favorite people ever - we worked together at Babeland 10 years ago. She's good people. And she's fun.

Then I started to see folks that I sort of recognized. Because we follow each other on Twitter. So I see little teensy avatars of them all day long. It was fun to meet those folks in real life! Soon, S and I were having fun.

At one point I followed S outside so she could take a work call and spent several minutes being deeply amused.

Standing around in front of the bar were an assortment of folks dressed in manner that was likely to attract attention even in NYC. People walked by and did double takes. It takes a lot to get a New Yorker to do a double take. Then the majority of men did a triple take, stopped mid stride and turned to stare. Because Nina Hartley was standing outside doing an interview. The men would then strain a bit closer, as if checking that what they were seeing was real. I saw a few even rub their eyes. Then they would grab their phones and start texting. Immediately followed by pacing back and forth as they tried to figure out how to politely ask for a picture. I was impressed. Seeing a porn star on the street isn't something that happens every day. So, a double take is appropriate. But what I was really impressed with was the level of politeness I saw each and every one of these men exhibit. Respectful distance. Asking before taking a photograph. Someone raised these men right. I think it also speaks to how Nina has built her career. She has always been outspoken and articulate. Clear that for her this is a career of choice and of passion. She unfailingly treats her fans with respect and kindness and receives the same in return. And may I add, for anyone of you who thinks that aging means less sexiness. This woman stopping men in their tracks - she's over 50. And hot as hell.

After S was done with her work call, we went back in and she stood by graciously while I talked shop with the folks from Njoy, For Your Nymphomation and Sliquid. We saw tribal belly dancing from Luna, Carol Queen spoke, ran into Megan Andelloux - an awesome sex educator and then S and I decided to take each other to dinner.

If you're up for a not cheap but not utterly absurdly priced dinner may I strongly recommend Dressler in Brooklyn. Oh my god - little mouth orgasms with every bite! Then we grabbed a cab home and were in bed by 11. Perfect evening.

A huge thank you to Tied Up Events for putting together such an awesome party!

And - we'll have calendars for sale at the store shortly!

2011 Calendar models include:
Bad Bad Girl,
Brandon B,
Coy Pink,
Dangerous Lilly,
Essin’ Em,
Gloria Brame,
Jiz Lee,
Lillith Grey,
Luna,
Matthew Lawrence,
Max Lagos,
Mollena Williams,
Nina Hartley,
Radical Vixen,
Sadie Smythe and
Sovereign Syre.

Into the Woods Part 3 - in which my heart breaks a little

The light was golden. Watermelons were stacked around the trees. Women sat on hay bales and camp chairs or leaned against trees eating their (vegetarian with ingredients carefully posted in order to care for people with food allergies) dinners. It was Friday evening at Michigan.

A small group was gathering around two women wearing Transexual Menace t-shirts who were passing out info. Something shifted in the air. I perked up. I wanted to talk to these women. And I wanted a t-shirt.

The women wearing the shirts were passing out fliers about trans inclusion in the festival. One woman was Riki Wilchins, who's kind of a big deal in trans activism. I was excited to hear what she had to say. The other was a woman named Kris. She had been identified male at birth and had not had any medical interventions that would have changed her appearance. If someone made assumptions about her gender, they would likely have assumed that she was a very feminine young man. But that's not how she thought of herself. And frankly, that's not how she felt. For me, every gender falls somewhere on the color spectrum of energy. I can't define it, it's not rational, it's intangible. It's about my gut. And my gut told me that this young woman belonged on the land. That she was a woman born woman. A woman who was not socialized as a woman. A woman with genitals different than mine. But genitals are as different as snowflakes. She was a woman. Who was also fragile, tentative, brave and young. A woman who people were suddenly not being nice to.

My hackles were up.

Within a few minutes, women were yelling at each other. Some supporting Riki and Kris, others horrified that these women were on our land. After about 15 minutes, a worker appeared and stopped the yelling.

"This is Michigan, and if we're going to talk about this, we're doing it the Michigan way. If you want to discuss this, go under the kitchen tent. We'll put together a speaker's list and we'll pass a talking stick."

Yes, there was a talking stick. At least I think there was. Maybe it was just a psychic talking stick.

There was yelling, there was crying, there was a lot of sharing feelings, fear, prejudice, hate, honesty. It was raw. And terrifying. I'd never seen this at Michigan before. I'd heard about it. A few years before this, Tribe 8 simulated assaulting an abuser on stage. This resulted in a massive hue and cry and processing meetings for the rest of the week. Tribe 8 now had appeared on the night stage. Women had protested other women walking around wearing their consensually acquired bruises, now no one seemed to care. There was a time when the only dildos sold in the crafts areas looked like vegetables or dolphins. Now, at least half looked like penises. Change happens. But it can be slow. And painful. I knew that this discussion was important. That it was part of a process. But that didn't make it any less awful.

When it was my turn to speak I'm pretty sure I sounded like an idiot. Like an over emotional idiot. I'm not bad at speaking in public. I used to act in community and school theater, I'd worked as a lobbyist in the Minnesota legislature. With other women, I'd led public ritual. I'd been a local organizer for It's Time Minnesota that passed a trans inclusive non discrimination law. I'd spoken on college campuses on GLBT issues and military aid to El Salvador. Saying something about why all women should be welcome on this land shouldn't have been hard. But it was. I was crying before the first sentence was out of my mouth.

I was bullied pretty severely in elementary school. That experience gave me, a white girl from some heavy privilege, a hard lesson in being other. It has deeply colored the way that I look at the world. I'm almost grateful for the experience. But perhaps I could have learned that lesson in a less scarring manner. When I see someone who wants to be a part of a community, who sees themselves as part of that community, being ignored and marginalized, or worse, those scars reopen. With rage and shame and violent visceral pain.

I think I said something about what it was like as a bisexual woman with a husband in womyn's space. And something about how these women were women who belonged here. I can still see what I saw in that yellow and white striped tent. I can feel the tears on my face, the pain in my belly. The sights, the senses, the emotions are more clear than the words.

Other women spoke. For many women it came down to genitals. This land was somewhere that they didn't want to see real live penises. Some women didn't believe that anyone could really be transgendered. Some women said trans women post surgery were welcome. Others explained that access to surgery is a class issue - that not all women could afford surgery.

Finally, we were all talked out.

Riki and Kris decided to go back to Camp Trans. They weren't feeling like they wanted to stay on the land. Frankly, I wasn't sure I wanted to stay on the land either. A small group of us walked them out to the gate. Then I went to bed.

The next morning I woke up, broke down my tent and went home.

I still think about Kris and wonder how she's doing. She was such a sweet person. And I ache that my people caused her pain in a space where she should have been welcomed and celebrated.

Into the Woods - my first MichFest

** August 1997

I was white knuckling it down a dirt road. I knew there was going to be a dirt road. I just hadn't realized it would be this long. And I was on a rather heavy motorcycle. I was riding my husband's CB 1000. My bike was a 1982 Kawasaki CSR 750 - and it was on it's last legs, so James had graciously lent me his bike. I had over 1000 miles at my back, two miles to go and I wasn't sure that I was going to make it.

Finally, the gate appeared. Women waved, grining broadly with smiles of raw happiness, the skin on their faces relaxed across their bones with a freedom I'd never seen. It was as if the world had melted off their shoulders. My eyes were big. My face was not relaxed. Not yet. They said, "Welcome Home!".

Sarah and I were directed to park our bikes in a field of tall grass while we purchased our tickets. I looked at these women like they were crazy. Have you ever tried to park a heavy motorcycle in a field of tall grass? That slopes upwards? After three miles of dirt road and driving since dawn?

I started to protest. And learned my first Michigan lesson. There are rules. And you will follow them. So I parked in the tall grass, pushed a crumpled can under my kick stand and prayed that my bike wouldn't fall over.

After we had parked in motorcycle parking (a different part of the big field, but flat and equipped with hard things to put under your kick stand), unloaded our crap, signed up for our workshifts, and picked up our programs we loaded onto a flat bed pulled by a tractor and headed into the land. There were women everywhere. But no time to look around. Light was fading and we needed to get our tents up while we could still see.

After much dragging things down wood chipped paths, following M & R who had been to fest before, we set up camp. In the dark. And promptly passed out.

The next day, we awoke to rain. Luckily, since we had come on motorcycles, I had a rain suit and headed off to my intensive goddess workshop with Ruth Barrett. It was raining so hard, they moved the workshop under the kitchen serving tent. I sat shyly at the back with my head spinning. No one here thought it odd that I was a witch. Or dianic. The word "person" or "people" was gone from the language. It had been replaced by women (or womyn, or wimmin or...). It was as though I'd crossed a great divide into a mystical place. I was in Avalon.

I think that night we went and watched a movie. I know that night I returned to my Target tent to find a river inside. Literally everything was soaked. A boat could have floated in my sleeping bag. I could have used a boat.

I slept sitting up. In my rain suit. And leather jacket. And Sarah's leather jacket. Sarah offered for me to sleep in her (dry) tent with her. But I have a pride problem. And an accepting help problem. It's still a problem now, but it was ginormous when I was 25. Today, I would have been knocking on Sarah's tent and telling her to scoot over.

The next morning I walked out to the phones, called my husband and cried. I had it together til I heard his voice.

J - "Hello?" (pre caller ID)

Me - "Hi" (sniff, sniff)

J - "How's it going?"

Me - "I'm all wet, the tent leaked, it's raining, and cold and....(sobs) If it doesn't get better I'm coming home (more tears)"

J - "Ok, talk to Sarah, see if there's something you can do to fix your tent, and know you can always come home ok?

Me - (sniff) "Ok"

J - "Have fun, let me know what happens"

Me - "Ok" (sniff)

Which is where R found me, helped me collect all of my wet stuff, poured me into her car and drove me to a laundromat in town where we dried everything, had ice cream and bought about 17 tarps. Ok, it was more like four.

After working my kitchen shift, and for aforementioned pride reasons turning down the help of an astonishingly handsome woman, I tarped inside my tent, under my tent, over the tent. Hell, I tarped everything I could see. I spent the rest of the week asking people if their tents leaked. And collecting data on which brands remained dry (Mountain Hardware and Marmot were the leading non-leakers)

Wednesday night was the opening ceremony. Thousands of women sat in front of the night stage. Thousands of women sang and danced as we celebrated the festival. We rose as Amazon Women. It was magic.

I spent much of the next several days walking around in a daze. My eyes filled with the astonishing diversity of women. I'd been terrified I'd be too fat and embarrassed to shower (a result of highly disordered body image). I was wrong. There were plenty of women bigger than me. And proud and sexy in their bodies. There were women with beards and dresses driving the town tractor (it's michigan's public transportation system - there is a separate system for women with mobility related disabilities - it's goes more places), young women, older women, women wearing skirts with no tops and breast feeding babies, little girls and boys (up to age 4) playing, teen age girls running and whispering with their friends. Handsome butch women. Women in elaborate outfits. Naked women with chairs over their arms and shoes on their feet. Women who literally set up pickets fences around their tent sites. My head spun. I made a mental note to bring make up and cuter outfits the next time I came. And I smiled. When I called home there were no tears. Just excitement and laughter.

At the night stage that year, Tribe 8 played. And it was incredible. The sign language interpreter was fierce. And did costume changes. At one point she was on stage in boots and a modified white wedding dress turning ASL into punk rock. I couldn't take my eyes off her. Which is saying something because Lynn Breedlove is hot. Tribe 8 was amazing. But what changed my life was the mosh pit. I dove in and it smelled good. This never happens in mosh pits. When someone fell, there were many hands helping her up, when I coughed, a woman turned and handed me a cough drop. I felt safe in a way that I'd never felt before. We were all taking care of each other. Flinging our bodies with abandon, dancing, pulsing, soaring with delight, energy and healing. Our power rose above us, almost shining in the night sky. When I walked away from the concert my voice was gone, I was covered in the sweat of women. And filled with a bone deep peace and joy.

A few days later we left the land, exhausted. It took hours for my eyes to readjust to the world. A world with men. I felt disoriented.

When I got home, dirty, tired and road buzzed my husband was waiting. With a hug and a massage table set up. He wrapped me in Dead Sea mud, gave me a massage and poured me into bed. Being back in the world with men wasn't so bad. Not with men

I left my michigan wristband on for a week. And dreamed of the woods

Into the Woods - part 1 in which i discover michfest

Since 1997, I've been going to Michfest. In fact, when I say I'm going to Michigan, I almost never mean just the state, I mean that I'm going to the largest and oldest womyn only music festival in the country.

Let's talk about the womyn only thing. Because I know some of you are wondering why I'd go to a single gendered space. And because Michigan has frequently been accused of transphobia. In some cases rightly accused.

Here's my perspective.

As a young feminist I found womyn only space through Dianic Wiccan communities. I learned about lesbian separatism from reading Mary Daly. I learned about other separatisms from reading theories of the Black Panthers and early Malcom X. Separatism made sense to me. It still does.

The concept of separatism is that oppression is built into the very fabric of our culture. And that by continuing to participate in the culture in any form, you feed the oppression, even by fighting it. So some women (or wimmin or womyn or...) chose to step outside and create a separate world. In some cases womyn created separate communities in which they lived 365 days a year. Some created womyn's religions in which femininity in all of it's diversity(s) is celebrated but men and boys were not welcome. Some created space that was womyn only for a period of time. Michigan is one of the later spaces.

Michfest was founded in 1976. By the 1980s the festival had moved to a 600+ acre of land in rural Michigan and it's been on The Land ever since. Every year in July womyn arrive on the land and create an environment for a week long festival. They lay pipe for the showers. They lay upside down carpet for wheel chair accessible paths. They put up signs for designated camping areas. They put up the stage and lights and audio for Night Stage. They ready the fire pit to cook for thousands of women.

I first heard about MichFest in the early 90s when I was living in Minnesota. I'd already learned that being in womyn only space was something that I needed. It was a place where I felt safe. Where I could heal from the damage that I experienced as a woman walking around in the patriarchy. Because the patriarchy fucking hurts. Especially as a young woman.

Women only space wasn't a paradise. It had problems just like the rest of the world. We carried our petty politics, our prejudices, our inappropriate behaviors, our humanity right on in. But there was an intentionality and safety that fed me. That I needed.

So one year my best friend and I got on our motorcycles and accompanied by two members of our coven (yes i said coven - our Dianic Wiccan coven where no, we did not eat small children) who drove a car we called the rolling tank bag we all drove north through Minnesota, up through Canada and down through Michigan to Hart and The Land. My life has literally never been the same.

I drove into a world which wasn't perfect. But it was beautiful.