Philadelphia pride flag pinned to a denim jacket. Photo.

Today I’m super excited to share this awesome guest post with you today. In her words, Caress Scarbrough (She/They) has been coaching and consulting for 25 years, focusing on sexuality and relationship coaching for the past five years. She is a principal coach and co-founder of Mindful Passions International and a DEI (diversity, equity, and inclusion) consultant. Caress is a proud Black, Queer, Disabled, Non-Monogamous Leathergirl who advocates for the BIPOC, LGBTQ+, Poly, Kink, and Disabled communities in every aspect of her life. In my words, she’s a fucking bad-ass and I dropped everything to read her post on American queer blackness as soon as itRead More →

Short-haired afab person wearing dark-blue jeans dances in celebration. Photo.

This post is inspired by Hannah Witton’s #DearJune challenge, which I fully intended to take part in on Instagram but ended up abandoning after just one day. This was partly because of my mental health, and partly because of the Black Live Matter protests – as a white person I needed to shut up and use my platform to raise up the voices of Black folks rather than promoting my own shit. I don’t feel guilty about abandoning Dear June, but it’s still something I’ve been thinking about. Here is a love letter, of sorts, to the month that reminded me that I am enough.Read More →

A Clone-A-Willy kit sits next to a blue silicone copy of my fist. Photo.

I’m someone in a long-distance relationship who doesn’t know when I will get to see my partner next due to COVID, and I’m a genderqueer trans masc person who calls their junk their dick. Oh, and I’m dating someone who loves getting fisted. All of this lends itself perfectly me to doing a sexperiment so I could feel closer to my enboifriend – and to fist them for the first time. In this review I’m going to share how I used Clone-A-Willy kits to make a copy of my fist for an incredibly, socially-distanced fuck.Read More →

A black afab person in dungarees, a stripy top and glasses grins at the camera with their eyes closed. Photo.

Last week I wrote about how exhausting it is to be a trans person right now. I wrote about fear and anger and sadness and burn out and feeling numb. I’m really glad I wrote that post, but writing it – and some of the conversations that writing it sparked – reminded me that I can’t explain my gender in one word, or even in a simple sentence. My gender identity is changing all the time as I explore it, and I love that.Read More →