Why Loving Your Sister Is Important

Let us empower, educate and elevate together.

"Having fully faced my own experiences with sexual trauma and receiving support from amazing sisters and loves"

"No matter where you are, what you do, or who you become —until you learn to tolerate discomfort, you will not grow" https://humanparts.medium.com/you-will-not-grow-until-you-learn-to-tolerate-discomfort-54607fb63a2a

“I have a duty to speak the truth as I see it and share not just my triumphs, not just the things that felt good, but the pain. The intense, often unmitigated pain. It is important to share how I know survival is survival and not just a walk through the rain,"

Audre Lorde wrote in The Transformation of Silence into Language & Action.

Estimated reading time: 6 minutes, 57 seconds. Contains 1338 words

As a nurse, healing is and has been the goal of my dedicated work, consciously and sub-consciously, often at the expense of my mental healing. Not on purpose, but because I didn't know I needed to heal. Nursing helped me educate, empower, and elevate myself. With nursing education, it gave me financial power to provide for my family. I felt acknowledged, earned more money, and felt empowered. I had a responsibility to care for others, and did it very well. In my nursing career, I am magnificent; it doesn’t help that in one of my amazing nursing spaces, I am revered as the queen of camp and at one time had small children, parents, and teens bow to me - yep, literally bow: different stories, different blog.

I am amazing, but before nursing, I was a naive shame-filled, 19-year-old mother who didn't know self-love or self-care. Insecure, not knowing who I was, what I felt, or what love was because I was raped at the age of 5. I felt shame. Similar to many women I know, similar to perhaps yourself.

I didn’t have counseling, resources, or a safe place to talk to someone. Animals, the beach, and the sun became my love. I boxed my insecurities, low self-esteem, and self-doubt and jumped into being a mother on survival mode. I had no idea what to do about my questions regarding sex or my sexuality because no one talked to me about sex. I don't remember anyone talking, educating, or explaining sex unless it was to say that, “good girls don't do this, good little girls don’t do that, and don't get pregnant.” I learned that sex equaled pregnancy, and because I was sexually abused, I thought I was a dirty, bad girl, who became pregnant. Thank goodness for libraries.

In the summers, my great uncles would come to the shore to visit my grandmother, their sister. It was these summers between my ages of 7-14, that I learned a relationship type of love. They loved their wives, my Aunts, with their eyes, with their words, and often with their hands. Hands-on their butts, their breasts, and I often saw a quick grab at one of my Aunt's pussy once or four times. This affection was often met with a giggle and an Oh' John smile from my one aunt. "We can't do that in front of the kids,” my Aunt would say. “Well, then how is she to learn?” my Uncle would reply. My Uncles were always picking up my aunts, making them laugh, smothering them with kisses, telling them “how fine they were” or “how he couldn’t wait till night when he could get his hands on her.” My Uncles cooked, laughed, gave big hugs, lots of kisses, and showered affection and love everywhere and to everyone in the family, my friends included. As far as asking questions about what I saw my uncles doing. Questions, you say ha...I was met with a stern sometimes, depending on the person, disapproving look. “They shouldn't be doing that in public with kids watching". "Disgusting.” “She’s' acting like a floozy” one Aunt would say. I didn't and still don't know what a floozy is, all I know then and now is that it ain't good. As a young girl, when I would laugh and giggle or try to ask a sexual question, which I didn't even know was sexual because I was a kid. THE LOOK was what I was met with. You know the look I'm talking about. The one where the older female raises her thick right eyebrow pierces her right eye straight through you, wrinkles her lip, look that stops your breath and your questions from forming or coming out ya mouth. As much as I loved to see my Uncles shower my aunts with affection and love, I learned early that type of affection was dirty, and good girls don't do sex. What was lost on certain disapproving family members was that my Uncle's eyes, hands, words, and heart were happy. My Uncles showed me I could be happy in my whole self. Now, if I could just figure how.

Happy, what a magnificent word. Happiness is my Pussrageous. Fast forward 24 years, abuse, one fabulous divorce, five grown-ass kids, a banging job, and I am Pussrageous and pussy empowered. Add to that travel all over the world, blessedly being part of dynamic sisterhoods that give space to positive energy, education about the acknowledgment of and permission to claim my pussy power with no judgment, no criticism, and no shame for my sexual thoughts, fear, questions, participation in, preferences or desires.

I am feeling my intentional evolution, meeting dynamic people, which then prompts starting my public speaking platform. I am fully confronting my fears, unmet expectations, and allowing space for forgiveness, not the rape; I forgave that years ago. My forgiveness of myself. I stepped into that space that was always waiting for me, I grabbed the hand of my ancestors, shared the hand of my young self and divine connection, and embraced my magnificence, my healing continuously, and operated in my open awareness of self-love. This, with the help of self-reflection on failed relationships, appreciation of every connection, marriage, gratitude, thankfulness, self-therapy, books, workshops, retreats, online chat-rooms, and of course a therapist.

I am actualized with all my baggage, my kindness, goodness, and purposeful intent. I am actualized, I am here, I am loud, and... I am black and I am proud. I couldn't help it, the perfect moment for a James Brown hip-hop mix. I have sexual desires; wag your finger if you want, it's ok, I don't give a fuck. I deserve to fulfill them and go after more.

What I discovered personally and professionally along the way was the pattern of dysfunctional relationships and sexual trauma experiences that women and myself carried into adulthood, relationships, and sexual expectations. We couldn't define, acknowledge, or understand our sexuality because we were traumatized, silenced, or both. I broke my connection to trauma and misguided sexual education with the guidance of many. I desire my voice and passion for finding and understanding my sexuality outside of undesired experiences and societal expectations as a Black woman, and I am determined to heal, inspire, support, encourage, and give permission for others to break their patterns and remove the impact violence has on self-love and loving relationships. I want women to live and be filled with consent-given pussy-grabbing happiness if they desire.

That brings me to us and the necessity for our Pussrageous space. Having fully faced my own experiences with sexual trauma and receiving support from amazing sisters and loves, I realized the need and importance of addressing education on sexual violence, health education, and development. I came to this realization from not just my personal perspective, but also in my nurse role where I realized a desire was long lost. When I was a young girl, I wanted someone to safely have a courageous conversation with me within a safe community. To ask, If I was ok? My diverse nursing background and knowledge of all the statistics of childhood sexual abuse, adult sexual violence, and lackluster sexual health education programs have empowered me to explore and enjoy my pussy, pussrageous pleasure, and sexuality. Together we will build a community to slay fear, shame, sexual myths, and trauma. As we slay fear we will empower ourselves with education and pleasure affirming opportunities to grasp our sexual desires and possibilities. Sexual miseducation has prevented women from being in control of their sexual desires, their orgasms, or their bodies. I conceptualized Pussrageous Conversations for us as an ideal avenue to empower sexually vulnerable women through language, safe courageous conversations, and healing. Healing begins with a conversation.

Let us empower, educate and elevate together.

Pussrageously yours,

Raine