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‘I finally felt like one of the guys’

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How toxic masculinity breeds sexual abusers

By Jane Gilmore

“I’m a guy. I’m supposed to have sex. I’m supposed to be like every other guy. And so I’m like them, but [when I did this to the girls, I thought] I’m even better than them [dominant popular boys], because I can manipulate. They don’t get the power and the excitement. They have a sexual relationship with a girl. She can say what she wants and she has the choice. But the girls I babysat didn’t have the choice.”

This was Sam* explaining why he abused two girls, aged six and eight.

Sam, 18, was a foster child, abandoned by his biological parents and adopted when he was five by what he says was a loving, affectionate family. His adoptive parents both worked, but his mother did all the cooking, cleaning and caring for the children. His father “mowed the lawn, loafed around and worked with his tools”; he was in control of the family.

Sam was never the victim of physical or sexual violence at home, and he never committed any violence against his family.

School was a very different experience for him. He was short and heavy, and was subjected to constant bullying by the “popular dominant boys”. They told him he was “fat” and a “wimp”, that he would never fit in. He couldn’t play sport nor fight back when he was beaten up at school; the boys he perceived as popular and dominant shamed him by feminising him.

Sam understood this as his failure to be a “real man”. He wasn’t masculine enough for the “cool” boys to accept him. His body “served as an antagonist in his construction of masculinity”.

In his early years at high school when Sam started learning about sexuality, most of his understanding came from listening to the boys’ conversations there.

“Kids were talking at school about blow jobs and getting laid, telling dirty jokes and about having sex and stuff like that,” he said.

His understanding of sex and his own sexuality was that he had to have sex to be a proper man.

“Well, I’m a guy, so this is something that every guy does, that I want to be part of. I want to be like the other guys. I want to know what it feels like. I want to know what goes on.”

He didn’t think he could have relationships with girls his own age because he believed what the popular boys had told him for years – that his body and personality were not acceptably masculine, and therefore no girls would like him.

So at 15 he started babysitting for local families, and sexually abused the little girls in his care. He deliberately chose girls he saw as quiet and vulnerable. He didn’t use physical force, he used coercion, fear and control to manipulate his victims into submitting to the abuse.

“I felt that I was No.1. I didn’t feel like I was small any more, because in my own grade, my own school, with people my own age, I felt like I was a wimp, the person that wasn’t worth anything. But when I did this to the girls, I felt like I was big, I was in control of everything.”

This terrible and tragic story comes from a paper written by James Messerschmidt, a professor of criminology at the University of Southern Maine. It’s a summary of several books and papers he’s written about the relationship between violence and masculinity, or at least the twisted version of masculinity too often imposed on boys and young men.

Zack*, the other boy in Messerschmidt’s paper, had very similar experiences. He was bullied for being short, overweight, bad at sport and wimpy. Zack, like Sam, decided that sex was a way to prove to himself and others that he was a “real man”, and he started sexually abusing a vulnerable young girl.

“It made me feel real good. I just felt like finally I was in control over somebody. I forgot about being fat and ugly. She was someone looking up to me, you know. If I needed sexual contact, then I had it. I wasn’t a virgin any more. I wanted control over something in my life, and this gave it to me. I finally felt like one of the guys.”

It would be comforting to think of Sam and Zack as aberrations: tragic, but unusual in their experiences.

Sadly, the truth is that they are likely to be typical of the boys and young men who turn to violence to confirm their male identity and align with what they think is a desirable masculinity.

Study after study after study after study after study has found that domestic and sexual violence is usually based on a need for control, based on toxic misunderstanding of what gender roles should be.

These studies include wide-ranging research, surveys and interviews with both victims and offenders. They all show that violence is most likely to occur in cultures that strongly enforce gender roles and unequal power relationships between men and women.

The notion that “real men” are sexually powerful, dominant, strong and never to be rejected does enormous damage to boys and men, which in turn leads to them doing enormous damage to girls and women.

Boys who fail the masculinity test suffer excruciating rejection, and this doesn’t just reinforce toxic masculinity in the boys seen to fail, but also confirms it for the boys who pass.

Anna Krien’s 2013 book Night Games was a searing insight into the world of “successful” masculinity in Australia, where the young men who achieved all the “real man” targets of being tall, strong, powerful and excelling at sport lived in a culture of sexual entitlement and an expectation that everyone would see women as objects, not people.

Sam and Zack’s stories are the ones we need to tell people who think anti-bullying and respectful relationship education in schools is a waste of time, or worse, a means of diminishing men.

Our schools are littered with potential Sams and Zacks, and with the boys they thought of as popular and dominant. All of them are damaged by the ideas they teach each other about being a real man.

And all of them damage women when they carry those ideas into adulthood.

* Not his real name

Complete Article HERE!

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The 55-year-old newlywed

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It’s not just about technique – it’s about being with someone who cares enough to invest the time

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I had a few relationships in my 20s. In some, the sex was OK, in others just boring. I blame it on the fact that I was brought up to believe sex was functional, that men wanted it and women put up with it.

In my early 30s I married a man with limited sexual experience. He was from a religious background and wanted to wait till we were married: boy, was that a mistake. Sex was focused only on what he wanted. We were together for over 20 years and had three kids, and I can probably count the orgasms I had in single figures. Trying to talk about it caused angry outbursts. It was horrible and led to our breakup in my early 50s.

At that point, I decided to figure out if there was something wrong with me. I read Becoming Orgasmic and bought a vibrator, terrified my teenagers would hear me experimenting. I found that, like many women, I just needed sufficient time and attention to reach orgasm.

I began seeing a man, also just out of a sexless relationship, and we talked a lot about what we enjoyed before we did anything. For me, it’s not just about technique – it’s about being with someone who cares enough to invest the time. Sex is finally fun for both of us and we have been quite adventurous – even al fresco. We’ve been together for over two years, and recently married.

My message to other women is: you can start over in later life. This might involve a new partner. Take time to get to know your body after childbirth, breastfeeding and menopause. Do this on your own, if you prefer, then bring what you’ve learned into your relationship(s). And don’t settle for boring sex.

Complete Article HERE!

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Tie Me Up, Tie Me Down

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Rope play is a great way to be a bondage top when you’re five-foot-five.

By Jorge Vieto

Consensual rope bondage, specifically as a top, is one of the most intimate types of play I’ve engaged in with other human beings in the realm of kink and BDSM.

The instant shift in power is a turn-on like no other for me. (Thankfully, it’s not hard to find folks willing to be tied up in this town.) However, when the person I’m interested in getting naked with has never been tied up, has limited experience, or is hesitant to be bound in my rope, things become a bit more intriguing. It’s my job to make being tied up with rope sound approachable, safe, sexy, and fun — and generally, that’s not hard to do. The art of negotiating a bondage scene with a “rope virgin” is what I call the chase.

Rope bondage binds me to another individual. If I am “showing my ropes” to someone I’ve never tied up before and who I just met for the first time, it instantly connects us. If I am tying up someone I have played with before, it brings us even closer. The amount of trust all my willing “victims” place in me shows their confidence in my skill is immense. They trust me so deeply as to let me take some, if not most, of their mobility away. They are left in a very vulnerable state — and to me, vulnerability is sexy as fuck.

Combining the power dynamic and vulnerability that’s inherently a part of consensual rope bondage together with the contrast of different body sizes together is extremely hot to me, especially if the person that I am tying up is much larger and taller than myself. The beauty of using rope, and often blindfolds, is that — once placed on my bound prize — I become any size their imaginations make me in their blind, immobilized state. Or, if they like, they can also relish the difference in size as well.

As a rope-bondage top, it doesn’t matter to me that I’m only five-foot-five and 120 pounds — nor does it matter that most of the folks I tie up in my encounters are men who are twice my size (and sometimes more). With enough rope and know-how, I can tie them down like the six-inch-tall Lilliputians tied down Gulliver during his travels. And as a bear and a chubby-chaser who happens to be shorter and smaller than most people I know, having rope skills make it easier to have sex with men who tower over me. These skills come in handy in so many ways, especially if you want to tie them down and use them as your personal dildo or mount them without having to bring out your stepstool. I’m sure you get the picture.

Chasing down such beautifully massive “prey” is hard work. So having the ability to tie them down easily and quickly for inspection, exposing their naughty bits for me to enjoy and explore, is important. I can engineer an instant “portable fuck sling” with rope. Making their whole ride a lot more comfortable and enjoyable is key. Comfort increases the chances they’ll spend at least a few hours in captivity, being teased, tortured with pleasure, and forced to blow multiple loads. Over the years, I’ve adapted to tying up bigger bodies, learned to use thicker and longer pieces of rope, and memorized a few quick ways to extend rope and work with different levels of flexibility or lack thereof. These are all important things if you enjoy tying not only bigger folks, but also folks with different mobility and flexibility concerns. Once my prized catch is secured in whatever rope contraption I’ve decided to put him in, the real fun begins.

One quarter of the fun comes from the chase, another quarter from tying down my catch, and another from figuring out what makes them moan with pleasure the loudest. The last quarter comes from deciphering how to get them close to coming, so that I can bring them to the cusp and stop! Then, I start the process of bringing them close to climax over and over again until they have no choice to blow their load. For many, simply having my crotch buried in their face while I jack them off is good enough. For others, stimulation with an electric butt plug and conductive pads on their cock does the trick. For others, a good old-fashioned ass pounding by yours truly is just what they need. I get off on helping someone else get off, so if none of the above activities is going to get the job done, chances are, I will be able find something that will. That’s if they want to get off; if bondage snuggles or 100 gentle kisses strategically placed on their body is all they need, then I can do that, too.

As long as they’re tied up.

Once I’m done with them, I can release them unharmed. They can then go back to their natural habitats, tired, sweaty, and weak, sporting big smiles on their faces.

Complete Article HERE!

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What gay trans guys wish their doctors knew

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Vancouver study peers into the lives and troubles of trans MSM

Sam Larkham organizes sexual health clinics across Metro Vancouver with the Health Initiative for Men (HIM). He says he was once referred by his doctor to a trans health care clinic that had been closed for years.

By Niko Bell

Speaking to gay and bisexual trans men, the word “invisibility” comes up a lot. Invisibility in the bathhouse and on dating apps, invisibility among cisgender people, straight people, trans people and gay people. And, too often, invisibility in the doctor’s office.

“I have tried just going to walk-in clinics and stuff like that to ask questions or request tests,” one trans man recently told researchers in Vancouver. “And I just found the doctors were generally confused about me and my body. And I had to go into great detail. That made me not so comfortable talking to them about it because they were just kind of sitting there confused.”

“People have tried to talk me out of testing . . . saying I was low-risk behaviour,” another man told the researchers. “They didn’t understand my behaviour really. . . I’ve had practitioners as well say they don’t know what to do; they don’t know what to look for.”

Both men were speaking to researchers for a new study on the sexual health of trans men who have sex with men — a group social scientists know remarkably little about. Many of the men spoke about being on the margins of mainstream culture, gay culture and of the healthcare system.

It should be no surprise, then, that the study happened almost by accident. When PhD student Ashleigh Rich started work with the Momentum Health Study — a five-year, in-depth research project on the sexual health of men who have sex with men (MSM) conducted out of the BC Centre for Excellence in HIV/AIDS — she never intended to write a paper about trans MSM.

But a small group of trans men volunteered for the study, some pointing out ways the Momentum researchers could change their surveys to be more inclusive.

There were too few for quantitative research — only 14 — but Rich asked if they would sit down for an hour and talk about their experiences. Eleven agreed.

The result is a slim, 11-page paper that hints at a world of things we don’t yet know about transgender gay and bisexual men. We do know they form a large part of the trans population; nearly two thirds of trans men say they are not straight. We also know trans MSM participate in the same rich world of sexuality as other men who have sex with men — from dating apps to anonymous sex to sex work and a broad range of sexual behaviour.

We don’t know much about trans MSM risk for HIV; estimates range from much less than cisgender gay and bi men to somewhat more. We also don’t know much about how a combination of stigma, invisibility and limited healthcare options may be affecting trans men’s health.

Rich is cautious about drawing any broad conclusions from her study. Not only is it a tiny sample, but the men she spoke to are also mostly urban, white and educated. This study was less about answering questions, and more about figuring out which questions to ask.

A few themes, though, emerge clearly. One is that trans MSM often find themselves falling through the cracks when it comes to sexual health. Doctors are increasingly aware of how to talk to gay men, but don’t always see trans gay men as “real” MSM. They assume trans men are heterosexual, or fail to bring up sexual health altogether.

Some doctors give trans men information on PrEP — a preventative anti-HIV medication that can drastically reduce the risk of contracting HIV if taken every day — based on studies on cisgender men, without checking to see if different anatomy requires different doses. When trans men come in for HIV tests, they are sometimes urged to get pap smears instead.

“We come in with specific issues we want to talk about in a health care consult, and sometimes once people discover we’re trans they’ll want to do a pregnancy test or something,” says Kai Scott, a trans inclusivity consultant who collaborated on the study with Rich. “And we’re not there for that. They’re giving us things we don’t want, and not telling us the things we do need to know.”

Sam Larkham, a trans man who organizes sexual health clinics across Metro Vancouver with the Health Initiative for Men (HIM), says he was once referred by his doctor to a trans health care clinic that had been closed for years. Experiences like that make him think the best path for trans MSM is to rely on queer-focused health care providers like HIM.

“It would be ideal if it were the whole medical system, but that’s impossible,” Larkham says. “I think we have to look at what we can do, and that’s have specific places where we have nurses who are well trained to handle trans MSM. I think that’s the more doable thing. I would love to have every clinic be culturally competent, but that’s not the reality and never will be.”

Scott is more sanguine. He points to Trans Care BC, a provincial health program that has pushed for more education for doctors. Education needs to happen on both fronts, Scott says, among MSM organizations and in the health care system at large.

Lauren Goldman is a nurse educator for Trans Care BC. Since she was hired last fall, she’s been giving workshops to healthcare providers on how to treat trans patients. For now, though, the workshops are aimed at small groups of sexual health professionals, such as at the BC Centre for Disease Control or HIM. Goldman wants the program to expand to include everyone.

“We know trans patients are accessing care through a number of places all across the province,” she says. “We want everyone to have access to this information as soon as possible.”

Goldman says Trans Care is designing an online course that could bring trans cultural competency to primary care doctors everywhere as part of mandatory continuing education. Trans Care has also designed a primary care “toolkit” for doctors, and is in talks with UBC’s medical school about including trans-focused sexual health education for doctors in training.

Without specialized knowledge, Goldman says, there’s a lot doctors can miss. Testosterone can make vaginal tissue more sensitive and inflexible, for example, meaning trans men might have special difficulties with genital sex. Bacterial vaginosis is more common, and the usual antibiotics given to cis women may not solve the problem. Vaginal and rectal tissue may need different doses of PrEP to be effective.

And, most importantly, doctors need trans patients to know they will be heard.

“We need to be providing really obvious cues that show people that our services are trans inclusive,” Goldman says. “Including how we design our services, how we market our services, how we educate our clinicians, what signs we hang up, letting people know that our clinicians have a greater understanding of gender diversity.”

While Goldman is educating doctors, the trans men Rich studied were already very well educated about their own sexual health. They told Rich about careful risk assessments they make around sex, sharing information with other men, and advocating for STI screening to their reluctant doctors.

One man described slipping in HIV tests while getting regular testosterone-level screening: “Yeah, oh, I’m already getting blood drawn. I probably need to get tested, let’s just draw two more vials for HIV and syphilis.”

It’s not surprising that many trans men are so health-conscious, Scott says. “We’ve had to be champions of our own bodies for a while, and so that ethos carries through when it comes to health information.”

But it would be a mistake to overstate how safe trans MSM are, he adds. For one, the urban, white and well-educated men in Rich’s study may be more likely to have access to resources and care than less wealthy or more rural trans people. Also, the very reason trans MSM seem so safe might be because they aren’t getting the opportunities for sex they want.

“To some extent, we’re still on the sidelines,” Scott says. “I don’t think that systemic rejection should be the means of HIV prevention for trans and nonbinary people. We’re dealing with a lot of rejection, and so I don’t think we’ve really had the opportunity to be exposed to that risk.”

The theme of rejection is echoed frequently by the study subjects.

“I remember meeting this one guy at a friend’s party and we were flirting the whole time,” one participant recounted. “He was like, ‘Oh we should totally go for a beer’ and so we connected and then I told him I was trans and he was like, ‘Oh I’m not looking for anything.’”

“Cis men often shut down immediately, out of a sort of fear of the unknown, and being unaware of what can and can’t happen,” Scott says. “They can assume all trans guys are bottoms, which isn’t true.”

Constant rejection can wear trans men down, Larkham says. Not only does it damage mental health, but constant rejection can weaken trans men’s resolve to negotiate sexual safety.

Many trans men, the study notes, rely on online hookup sites, where they can be upfront about being trans, and avoid rejection by anyone who isn’t interested.

The burden of rejection is one reason trans MSM need better mental health services too, Larkham says. Too many men show up to sexual health clinics after being exposed to sexual risks. Mental health support, he thinks, could reach people earlier.

But again, Scott strikes a positive note. “It’s a source of celebration to me that despite huge barriers we’re still having the sex that we want,” he says.

In the end, the clearest message to emerge from Rich’s study is that there’s a lot more to learn. She hopes to get more answers from the next stage of the Momentum study, which will recruit a larger sample of MSM from across Canada. That study, she hopes, will be large enough to deliver the kind of precise, quantitative answers that this one couldn’t.

Scott is also eager to move forward.

“There’s so much you want to pack in and so much you want to report on,” he says. “There’s such a dire need to research these issues. People are really hurting, and I really feel that. But you’ve got to take it one step at a time.”

Complete Article HERE!

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Gettin’ and Stayin’ Clean

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Name: Augustt
Gender: Male
Age: 52
Location: San Francisco
Hey Doc,
I have been clean from meth for just over 6 years but was a hard-core user (injecting) from 1995 until March of 2002. Since then I have no sex drive and low self-confidence since my usage brought me to having Tardive Dyskinesia. What can I do to bring back my sex drive?

Yep, seven years of slammin’ crystal will seriously fuck ya up, no doubt about it. I heartily commend you on gettin’ and stayin’ clean. CONGRATULATIONS! I know for certain that ain’t easy.

You are right to say that the residual effects of years of meth use can devastate a person’s sexual response cycle. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons people take as long as they do to rid themselves of this poison. While they are using, they are oblivious to the effects meth is having on their sexual expression.

Before we go any further, we’d better define Tardive dyskinesia for our audience. It is a condition characterized by repetitive, involuntary, movements. It’s like having a tic, but much worse. It can include grimacing, rapid eye blinking, rapid arm and leg movements. In other words, people with this condition have difficulty staying still. These symptoms may also induce a pronounced psychological anxiety that can be worse than the uncontrollable jerky movements.

That being said, there is hope for you, Augustt. Regaining a sense of sexual-self post addiction is an arduous, but rewarding task. With your self-confidence in the toilet and zero libido, I suggest that you connect with others in recovery. They will probably be a whole lot more sympathetic to your travail than others.

Try connecting with people on a sensual level as opposed to a sexual level. I am a firm believer in massage and bodywork for this. If needs be, take a class or workshop in massage. Look for the Body Electric School Of Massage. They have load of options. He has created over 100 sex education films, most of which are available at his online schools: www.eroticmassage.com and www.orgasmicyoga.com.

You will be impressed with the good you’ll be able to do for others in recovery as well as yourself. Therapeutic touch — and in my book that also includes sensual touch — soothes so much more than the jangled nerves ravaged by drug and alcohol abuse. It gives the one doing the touch a renewed sense of him/herself a pleasure giver. The person receiving the touch will begin to reawaken sensory perceptions once thought lost.

I encourage you to push beyond the isolation I know you are feeling. Purposeful touching, like massage and bodywork will also, in time help take the edge off your Tardive dyskinesia. I know this can happen. I’ve seen it happen. Augustt, make it happen!

Good luck.

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