i turned my palms into little bowls, pouring handfuls of water on top of the clay to reduce its’ natural stickiness, to make it moldable and changeable. i’d press my pointer and middle fingers into the center of the clay to make a single hole that forms the basis of all ceramic creations. my left hand would serve as a guide, stabilizing the clay and giving it something to push into.

the founders, dalychia and rafaella, of the virtual and in real-life black sexual intimacy education space, afrosexology, are finding sensual self-care in everything from gut feelings and deep breathing to cinnamon rolls and roller skating.

there are days that i forget that the only gaze that i should cater to is my own. but most days, i am hyper aware of my own brilliance. of my own light. of my own beauty. of the God within me. of my own power to make my life whatever i want it to be.

when we release our trauma identity we are giving into the unknown. we allow ourselves to be more open and less triggered possessing the capability to self-soothe and self-advocate. we become more aware of our needs and the boundaries that we need to create.

three years later, i’m glad that i’ve been able to experience romantic relationships where i can be vulnerable and heal with partners. it’s not perfect, and after experiencing something as deeply traumatic and personal as rape, i realize that it’s never going to be.

i didn’t think about it then but its been circling my mind how so many events have compromised my relationship to myself, my mind and my body. how growing up in a christian household prepared me for marriage before it prepared me for womanhood. how sexual violence contributed to me objectifying myself adding to my hyper-sexuality and this need to attach my confidence, my worth and my value to the number of men who wanted me instead of learning and knowing what it meant to love and want myself.

A large part of the rose-colored world view of motherhood, Patrice believes, is due to the prevailing narrative around mothering. “Motherhood is often talked about like it's the best thing you could ever possibly do with your life [as a woman]. And more often than not, when we as Black women, specifically, enter into parenthood…we realize that those stories or those experiences that we were led to believe about parenthood are often fairytales not reflective of our actual [Black] parenting experiences,” said Patrice.

by definition survival mode is an adaptive response of the human body to help us survive danger and stress. so many of us are all to familiar with this trauma response as we have learned to go through the motions of life, doing what we need to do just so we can ‘get by’. survival mode is when our flight-or-fight response is activated and living in this state of being can exist for days, weeks, months and even years at a time.

i neglect to rely on those who cannot assure me they are capable of staying, which in turn restricts me from expressing vulnerability with passers-by. i learned not long ago that i have been existing like this for the entirety of my life, simply to prevent myself from grieving another lost love.

when you think about the vessel that carries you through this lifetime, what are the thoughts that form around it? “living within this vessel means picking up that unraveled fabric and sewing myself back up as many times as i need to.”

our bodies are our resting place. the one space that holds it all—our emotions, our desires, our tendencies, our sensuality. it grows and it changes with us throughout the seasons, over the years, through trial and error, through victory and defeat. and for that, our bodies should receive our utmost praise. 

i’m not sure if the mantras stuck but overtime my orgasms changed. instead of the buzzy vibration of a clitoral orgasm, i now experienced a deep pulsation like the base of a drum, steady and grounding. i noticed how these root chakra orgasms continued even during sessions when i wasn’t using the crystal or any other type of penetration.

how could i truly center my own pleasure when i didn’t know who i was, what i liked, and what i truly desired? i thought i had an understanding of what i liked, but noticed that i was enjoying less and less the sex i was having, the men i was encountering, and the way i was being treated.

for too long the language around revitalization has often made a lot of us look to products and other expensive self-care “tools” as the guiding foundation of our healing journeys.

our senses are almost always with us and the whole of us possess such power that allows us to tap into them almost instantaneously, connecting us to their healing powers and calming waters. there is a likeness about the way we are allowed to heal ourselves from the inside out. about offering ourselves groundedness through gentle movements and subtle breaths.

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my chosen family has taught me that this joy i longed to experience through them and communing, was buried deep in my soul, and i had to do the work to uncover it, to heal the wounds that layered on top of it, and like a hand waiting at the bottom of the well to be pulled up, salvaged. they have taught me that my joy had to be salvaged, and then, at all costs, and by any means necessary, protected. even if that protection comes at the cost of upsetting biological family.

historically, those who identify as both black and a woman have had to carry not only their burdens, but the burden of those around them. the burden of being viewed as less significant although the world itself was birthed from our womb. the burden of being torn from our own homes in exchange for a place that’s both unfamiliar and dangerous.

i know that i can never be too much woman or hold too much trauma that marks me undeserving of the wholeness of love. i know that the duality between my darkness and my light is special, that both my evenings and my mornings make me who i am. and that is a beautiful, glorious, and wondrous woman.