Hey, hey, hey and welcome to Self Published Episode 9. I’m Aziza Kibibi and in this episode we are going to talk about the birds and the bees. Yes, yes y’all. We will be discussing the very thing that drives human kind. The very thing that leads to the creation of each and every one of us. The very thing that many just can’t seem to get enough of. Ssssex! And aside from the blog post topic being about sex and my own sexuality, you may be wondering “well Aziza, what does sex have to do with publishing a book?” And to you I will answer this…

When it comes to making and marketing a product, the old adage is that sex sells. But often people take that way too literally. Sure seeing rippled six pack abs, glistening smooth skin or an ample bosom is eye catching, but often sex in imagery can be very subtle. So subtle in fact we may not even realize that is the reason why we are drawn to an ad, thumbnail, post or even a person at first. 

Since the topic of my memoir Unashamed a life tainted addresses sexual deviance and trauma, I had a lot to consider when designing my book cover, (as I spoke about in episode 4), as well as marketing my book and even my public persona. But the thing with me is that I am proud of and I absolutely love…. me! And that include the parts of me that many may not find to their liking….or actually maybe too much to their liking which in turn makes them uncomfortable with there thoughts because…anyway, let me refocus before I get lost down that rabbit hole. My point is you can’t please everyone. And this episode is about learning how to please yourself and then acclimating your audience into your world. So without further ado, thank you for allowing me to caress your eardrums and penetrate your mind with…

The Blog post

January 18, 2014

THE BIRDS AND THE BEES

One of the most challenging aspects of recovery for a survivor of sexual exploitation, is one’s perspective of sex I went through many stages in my sexual growth and it's safe to say I continue to go through them. As a little girl I was confused between the sensations I was feeling, if what was happening to me was right or wrong, fear, and the stress on my body. I have children and I know sexual exploration is a part of growing up, but to have it forced on you is traumatizing to say the least.

By the time I reached puberty my father had pushed my body to the point that my physical senses were numb and my mentality was that him raping me was another one of my household chores. If I wanted to avoid being choked or punched while he had intercourse with me, it was best that I didn't fight. 

I went from a little girl who's innocence and love for her father was used against her, to a teenager who's will had been broken to the point that she fit perfectly into the role created for her; to a grown woman with little identity of her own; sexual or otherwise. So what now?

At twenty five years old I'd already been having sex most of my life; but I'd never had an orgasm, I didn't see sex as something that was suppose to be pleasurable for a woman, and I'd been trained to please one person. 

When I was with my first, outside of my dad, I really wanted to express how I felt about him physically. We talked on the phone, spent time together and I told him what happened to me. I trusted him and when we kissed for the first time (one of the many things I hated doing with my father) my body ignited with sensations that I didn't know was possible. I wanted him, and I wanted him bad! But when the day finally came, it was a disaster. 

As soon as I felt his penis, seventeen years of sexual abuse came flooding back. I didn't break down, I didn't bolt and I didn't refuse; I reverted back to the trained obedient little girl I grew up as, and I went through the motions of making this man cum. As soon as that happened, I felt nothing. No amazing sensation running through my body, no will, no understanding if I liked what was happening or not. I was again the orifice being used for a man to get his rocks off on. And it was horrible. 

I felt like everything that I built with this man went out of the window. I was embarrassed, ashamed and because he didn't orgasm, I felt like I didn't do my job. 

This whole experience made me resentful. I was away from my father, yet he was still present in my life through my interactions with another man. I knew that had to change.

Thanks to my dad, sex was something negative in many ways, and I had to dispel so many head games it was crazy! Without knowing anything about psychology, I knew I had to deprogram the associations I made between sex and misery, and start all over again. 

I started to read books on sex, scientific, practical and entertainment focused. I read books on masturbation, the female anatomy, sexual art, fetishes, female orgasm and ejaculation, as well sexual practices from different cultural perspectives. I watched porn and I read erotic literature while paying attention to what aroused me and what didn't. If I saw images that pertained to my father but still triggered sensual sensations in me, I didn't shy away from it. I told myself that if other women can enjoy it, than there's no reason I couldn't either. From there, I started masturbating. I was the only one I trusted with myself so, I enjoyed myself, by myself. I communicated with the man (who became my first love) everything that I did and he was in full support. Then one day while having an erotic dream, I woke up in the middle of my first orgasm! After that, I couldn't get enough. Rape? What rape? Molestation? What molestation? Daddy? Who the hell was that and what did he have to do with my orgasm? This became my viewpoint of the pleasure my body was capable of feeling. (Side note: God created sex as a means to reproduce. In order to make a baby a man has to orgasm but a woman doesn't. Yet we still have the ability to orgasm. Which means, God gave us our orgasm just for us to enjoy! I'm just saying.)

Once I was comfortable with my ability to have sexual feelings without associating it with something negative, I introduced my boyfriend. And the rest is history. 

Recovering after sexual trauma is a process. It takes work, focus and practice. But first one must accept that they have a right to and deserve to enjoy sex again. Starting with the passion to retake the power stolen from you, and not allowing the abuser to maintain control after the attack, enjoying sex without hangups is possible, and very probable. 

My father performed cunnilingus on me when he started molesting me, and today cunnilingus is probably my favorite sexual activity. Im not ashamed to say that there may be some association pertaining to (this is where I get technical) Unconditioned Stimulus, Conditioned Stimulus and everything else concerning classical conditioning and Ivan Pavlov. But I don't care! It could be, and it could not be. I'm not going to dwell on it because doing so would just be a continuation of crediting and/or discrediting my father for my sex life. At the same time if there is association, oh well. There's nothing I can do about it now. I need to live my life, and that includes enjoying the pleasure that myself and someone I care about can give me. 

SideBar

You can’t edit your own work. Well, let me take that back,…you shouldn’t edit your own work. And by edit I mean the final and/or second to final edit. Of course when writing, every draft is an edit and you as the writer do the first few. But before publishing or distribution, you must allow a fresh pair of eyes to make edits for grammar and content. I knew this. Which is why I searched for an editor first in my school (remember the professor who came on to me?), in my social media network, among my friends and amidst my business associates; which is where I finally found one.

A young women came highly recommended by a gentlemen who I’d met and baked some cookies for. Taking my own advise, I’d spoken with him about my project even though he had nothing to do with book publishing, and lo and behold, he had a good friend who was an editor, a contributor for a popular media blog, a ghost writer and an ad copy writer.

We met, I told her about my project, she sent me some samples and references, I sent her 5 pages to edit to make sure she meshed well with my writing voice, she returned them and it was all good. She gave me a quote and an estimated date for completion which was within plenty of time of my deadline, I accepted, we singed a contract which included a non disclosure agreement, I gave her $1300 in money orders and I sent her my 558 page draft for her to get started.

3 weeks later she sent me 75 edited pages. Things were looking good but I was finding some basic mistakes and some grammar edits that completely changed the context of my writing.  

OK…ok, this is just part of the process right? We had a phone meeting and corrections and clarification were made. Cool. But it was nagging me that when I compared her 75 pages to the original 75 there wasn’t many differences aside from what she did wrong. But ok, maybe I’m just that good of a writer. It’s all good. 

Two more weeks passed and she sent me another 25 pages. Ok, it was looking good at first; a few spelling errors on my end that she corrected, great. But again, an entire event was changed around. When I asked her about it, she said that what I wrote was too unbelievable and wouldn’t be accepted by a reader. Uhm, Huh? I had