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How you heal is just as important as what you heal

Growing up as a doubly closeted gay boy in the Midwest, I cultivated a vivid world inside my head where I felt safe and free. Eventually, I would have to come out hiding no matter how scary it felt. I realized the fear was never going to disappear, but I felt like I was starting to disappear after so many years of keeping parts of myself boxed in.

I never thought I was going to be a kinky slut one day. I never even watched porn growing up. I was 20 the first time I ever watched porn (as encouraged by my sex positive, European friend). But nothing resonated with me. It’s as if (gasp 😱) it wasn’t made for me - an empathic, spiritual, queer, trans, kinky, white boy with a vulva.

For 24 years I didn’t have the language to articulate my experience nor identify myself as trans. How could I when I hadn’t see any trans representation, especially when it came to intimacy? I know what’s it like to not feel comfortable in a human body. I know how that can affect the way you view yourself and feel about yourself, which affects many other aspects of your life.


I didn’t have much of a choice, but to peel these layers back. With each layer I’m able to connect more deeply with myself, which gives me confidence. That’s how I can proudly say I’m a spiritual slut. Healing my relationship with my body, my gender and my sexuality has been at the center of my journey. Abuse has become so normalized in society that sometimes it becomes difficult to notice we are feeling disconnected from ourselves, our needs, our wants, our joy, our pleasure, our senses. It is no accident that people who are not cis white straight men often feel shame around their body and sexuality.

I found that much of my shame showed up when I was naked looking in front of the mirror. In fact, I would often avoid mirrors. As you can imagine, I felt even deeper shame when I was naked in front of another being, especially another being who I wanted to desire me. I was holding so much unprocessed shame in my body that it felt like I had three layers of condoms around my aura. I wasn’t fully present. It’s like shame is the static on a radio, and then once it gets tuned the music is crystal clear, so you can enjoy it more deeply.

As I began healing different parts of myself I began to realize how my relationship with myself was a reflection of my relationships with all other beings, including the Earth. I realized the more I was able to explore pieces of myself that shame once prevented me from touching, the more intimacy I was able to experience in my relationships with others. And as I practiced grounding in my body more and more, I found I was able to be more present and expressive. My senses seemed to be heightened. Clear.

Sex is a very intimate experience and has immense ability to harm and to heal depending on how it’s done. I, myself, have experienced various occasions of sexual harm and, to my surprise, I have also been able to experience immense sexual healing thanks to the queer, kinky community my path had in store for me.

I feel called to share what I’ve learned and guide folks on their own path inwards, whatever that may be. I, myself, have been re-traumatized by the institutions that sought to help me heal past traumas, which they did. In my experience, it is unethical to not take a trauma-informed approach. We don’t have to perpetuate systems of harm in order to heal. How we heal is just as important as what we heal.

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