Sexual slang is important and totally respectful language.  A close friend and I talk about this.  The slang hurts her–she finds it disrespectful.

So I’ve been thinking about why I love sex slang.  One reason is resisting authority and love of DIY.  Dictionaries and doctors don’t own the right to label my body parts.  I love the vernacular, the livingness of language, language of the people.

I love the people, though people can be so violent, wrong, painful.  People have hurt me a lot, in unfair ways.  But I can’t give up on humanity–we are one and the same.


I wish I had an innocence to return to.  I can’t remember an age where a penis, vulva, or sexual desire were neutral things.  From the very beginning, I was super policed about my body.  My body did not belong to me, and I was harmed very early, in ways I will not detail here.

All my childhood goodness about sex was destroyed right away.  So I can’t access a healthy, early childhood sexuality experience.  I had to build healthy sexual experience myself, all anew.


The slang terms are beautiful to me.  The word cunt I association with cuneiform, the writing of an early civilization.  Feels sacred to me.  The wedge shapes which comprise cuneiform are the vulvic triangle.  What could I love more?  Cunt is joy, to me, and beautiful transgression.  The worst word is the best word–I live that contradiction.  I associate cunt with the goddess Inanna, who is everything to me.


I remember the word tits disturbed me.  Neighborhood kids used that word in a way that felt yuck–nasty, leering boys who didn’t know what to do with their feelings, hating girls and women because the boys wanted the girls and women sexually, and were not able to have them.

The word tits contained their misogyny.  I associated it with physical pain, the sting of when those boys threw plums at me, from the neighborhood trees.  All their anger.

But I couldn’t stay a kid.  I reclaimed that word with use and practice, accessing the darkness and learning to love it.  So I can access its power without being hurt by bad memories.

queer crazy fat

Queer I had to reclaim also.  I had “lesbian” yelled at me from a truck, as an angry insult.  When someone threw rocks at us, when I was a young person walking down the street holding hands with my girlfriend, that was not a good time.  But I know deep in my body and soul, being queer is totally valid.

Crazy–that’s also what I am.  To tiptoe around that all my life would not work.  I hear voices, have extreme states and moods, suffer in and out of psychiatry.  To pretend I’m not crazy wouldn’t work.  I could spend my whole life fighting against the word crazy being applied to me.  But I would rather love that it applies to me, love the other people who are crazy like me, and do the work of healing.

In much of the world, fat is considered one of the worst things to be.  People say they would rather have cancer than be fat!  I could try to hide my body and destroy myself.  Or I could reclaim the word fat and love myself and other fat people with impudence.

changing culture

I don’t want to avoid or rail against a word–I want to change the culture that made that word bad.  My differences are extreme.  I missed the luxury of being normal in many ways.

I had no choice but to turn insults on their head, which is beautiful.  In order to survive, I had to reclaim all the transgressive things I am.

from word to deed

To take that one step farther, I had to do that with the actions also.  I could stay the kid who thought sucking dick is an unpleasant experience and oppressive.  Or I could find a partner whose dick is lovely to suck and who I have true happiness with and marry him, to suck his dick almost every day.

I could remain the violated kid, or I could transform my shame and become a happier person who can love my body even though much of the world judges it harshly.  BDSM to reenact old trauma and defuse it, self care, community care, spirituality, embodied healing through movement–I do the work.  It’s emotional and time consuming, but learning is why I’m here.

I’m trying to create a world of love for all people, and sex slang is consistent with that.  Love to you and your language.

By Nest

Curious, disabled Earth Goddess, telling the truth.

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