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Sex EDGE-U-cation with Chris Yosef – Podcast #142 – 08/05/09

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Hey sex fans,

We’re back with some mighty fine Sex EDGE-U-cation, people!  As you know, Photo 32this podcast series takes a look at the world of fetish sex, kink and alternative sexual lifestyles.  And today’s guest adds his unique voice to the chorus of prominent educators, practitioners and advocates of unconventional sexual expressions and lifestyles that we have heard from so far.

I have the honor of welcoming an extraordinary fellow, Chris Yosef.  He and I will be delving into some of the same things I’ve discussed with others in this series — BDSM, polyamory, porn, spirituality and love — but he speaks from his perspective of a sub in a Dom/sub relationship.  And that’s a first for this series.

You won’t want to miss a minute of this exceptional conversation!

Chris and I discuss:

  • What appears to be a jumble of contradictions in his life.
  • His immersion in Kabbalah.
  • Being a collared boy in a D/s relationship.
  • Safe/Sane/Consensual Power-play.
  • His public advocacy for RACK (Risk Aware Consensual Kink).
  • Being a pro-sub, at least in the movies.

And for an up close and personal view of my guest and his polyamorous family, visit Chris on his blog HERE!

See a slideshow of Chris & friends at work and play.

Click on the thumbnails below.

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BE THERE OR BE SQUARE!

Check out The Lick-A-Dee-Split Connection. That’s Dr Dick’s toll free podcast voicemail HOTLINE. Don’t worry people; no one will personally answer the phone. Your message goes directly to voicemail.

Got a question or a comment? Wanna rant or rave? Or maybe you’d just like to talk dirty for a minute or two. Why not get it off your chest! Give Dr Dick a call at (866) 422-5680.

DON’T BE SHY, LET IT FLY!

Look for all my podcasts on iTunes.  You’ll find me in the podcast section, obviously. Just search for Dr Dick Sex Advice. And don’t forget to subscribe. I wouldn’t want you to miss even one episode.

Today’s podcast is bought to you by: Dr Dick’s Stockroom.

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Sex EDGE-U-cation with Lady Lydia – Podcast #120 – 05/06/09

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Hey sex fans,

Today we take an audio field trip.  I have the distinct pleasure of welcoming another sd1Seattle-based personality; the nationally renowned and respected dominatrix and educator, Lady Lydia.  We visit with her in her dungeon, don’t cha know.  Those of you who have been paying attention will know that Lady Lydia is the very first female voice in this series called Sex EDGE-U-cation.   So yeah for that, huh?

In this series we take a look at the world of fetish sex, kink and alternative sexual lifestyles. We investigate topics both familiar and exotic.  And we are chatting with prominent educators, practitioners and advocates of unconventional sexual expressions and lifestyles from all over the world.

And Lady Lydia fits that description to a tee! She was even part of the recently concluded Seattle Erotic Arts Festival, so folks you know she hot!

Lydia and I will be exploring all sorts of interesting topics; not least among them is her 10-year career as a professional BDSM top here in the Emerald City.  This is edgy and thought provoking stuff, sex fans.  You don’t want to miss a moment of this.

Lady Lydia and I discuss:

  • Seattle being a hotbed of perversion.
  • How BDSM and kink permeates her professional and personal life.
  • BDSM — safe and consensual.
  • Her role as the star of her own line of DVDs.
  • Her activities, including her double sessions and private lessons.
  • Therapeutic BDSM.
  • Some of the scenes she gets into.

Be sure to visit Lady Lydia at her website HERE!  (This is not for the faint of heart.)

See a slideshow of some of Lydia’s work.  Click on the thumbnails below.

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Today’s podcast is bought to you by: Dr Dick’s Stockroom.

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Sex EDGE-U-cation with Max – Podcast #113 – 04/08/09

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Hey sex fans,

Today I have the distinct pleasure of welcoming the Seattle-based, yet internationally known and respected, bondage artist, educator and Dom, who goes by the name Max.  We will be exploring all sorts of interesting topics; not least among them is his polyamorous life with max-picSeattle’s finest professional Dominatrix, Mistress Matisse. This is exciting and thought provoking stuff, sex fans.  You don’t want to miss this.

Max is my latest guest in this new series of podcast interviews I’m doing called Sex EDGE-U-cation .  As you know, we’re taking a look at the world of fetish sex, kink and alternative sexual lifestyles. We are touching on topics both familiar and exotic.  We are chatting with prominent educators, practitioners and advocates of unconventional sexual expressions and lifestyles from all over the world.

Max and I discuss:

  • Seattle being a hotbed of perversion.
  • How BDSM, polyamory and kink infuse his life.
  • His role as an educator and activist.
  • His workshops at The Center For Sex Positive Culture and his private lessons.
  • Safety and compatibility issues between top and bottom.
  • Building intimacy through BDSM.
  • Differentiating between BDSM, kink and genital sex.

Be sure to visit Max at his website HERE!

See a slideshow of some of Max’s work.  Click on the thumbnails below.

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Today’s podcast is bought to you by: Dr Dick’s Stockroom.

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Sex EDGE-U-cation with Scott Daddy – Podcast #103 – 02/25/09

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Hey sex fans,

Today I have the distinct pleasure of welcoming a friend and colleague, Scott Mallinger, a.k.a.

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Scott Daddy, to those who know and love him.  (So that’s why I call him Sir.)  Just kidding!

Scott is a BDSM journalist, lecturer, leather titleholder and Dom all rolled into that most charming package.  And he has the most wonderful sense of humor, as you will soon discover.  Scott is my second guest in this new series of podcast interviews called Sex EDGE-U-cation.

Through this series we’ll take a look at the world of fetish sex, kink and alternative sexual lifestyles. We’ll touch on topics both familiar and exotic.  And I will be chatting with prominent educators, practitioners and advocates of unconventional sexual expressions and lifestyles from all over the

world.

This new series will continue to appear on Wednesdays.  My regular weekly podcast, which often contains The Erotic Mind interviews, will continue on Mondays.

Scott and I discuss:

  • The meaning of Power Play.
  • Kink — behavior outside the social norm.  But how decides the norm?
  • Cathartic and recreational aspects of BDSM.
  • Working definitions for: Negotiation, Safeword, Scene and Aftercare.

Be sure to visit Scott Daddy at his website:  scottdaddy.com

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Today’s podcast is bought to you by: Dr Dick’s Stockroom.

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Women with HIV, after years of isolation, coming out of shadows

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Patti Radigan kisses daughter Angelica after a memorial in San Francisco’s Castro to remember those who died of AIDS.

By Erin Allday

Anita Schools wakes at dawn most days, though she usually lazes in bed, watching videos on her phone, until she has to get up to take the HIV meds that keep her alive. The morning solitude ends abruptly when her granddaughter bursts in and they curl up, bonding over graham crackers.

Schools, 59, lives in Emeryville near the foot of the Bay Bridge, walking distance from a Nordstrom Rack and other big chain stores she can’t afford. Off and on since April, her granddaughter has lived there too, sleeping on a blow-up mattress with Schools’ daughter and son-in-law and another grandchild.

Five is too many for the one-bedroom apartment. But they’re family. They kept her going during the worst times, and that she can help them now is a blessing.

Nearly 20 years ago, when Schools was diagnosed with HIV, it was her daughter Bonnie — then 12 and living in foster care — who gave her hope, saying, “Mama, you don’t have to worry. You’re not going to die, you’re going to be able to live a long, long time.”

“It was her that gave me the push and the courage to keep on,” Schools said.

She had contracted HIV from a man who’d been in jail, who beat her repeatedly until she fled. By then she’d already left another abusive relationship and lost all four of her daughters to child protective services. HIV was just one more burden.

At the time, the disease was a death sentence. That Schools is still here — helping her family, getting to know her grandchildren — is wonderful, she said. But for her, as with tens of thousands of others who have lived two decades or more with HIV, survival comes with its own hardships.

Gay men made up the bulk of the casualties of the early AIDS epidemic, and as the male survivors grow older, they’re dealing with profound complications, including physical and mental health problems. But the women have their own loads to bear.

Whereas gay men were at risk simply by being gay, women often were infected through intravenous drug use or sex work, or by male partners who lied about having unsafe sex with other men. The same issues that put them at risk for HIV made their very survival a challenge.

Today, many women like Schools who are long-term survivors cope with challenges caused or compounded by HIV: financial and housing insecurity, depression and anxiety, physical disability and emotional isolation.

“We’re talking about mostly women of color, living in poverty,” said Naina Khanna, executive director of Oakland’s Positive Women’s Network, a national advocacy group for women with HIV. “And there’s not really a social safety net for them. Gay men diagnosed with HIV already historically had a built-in community to lean on. Women tend to be more isolated around their diagnosis.”

There are far fewer women aging with HIV than men. In San Francisco, nearly 10,000 people age 50 or older are living with HIV; about 500 are women. Not all women survivors have histories of trauma and abuse, of course, and many have done well in spite of their diagnosis.

But studies have found that women with HIV are more than twice as likely as the average American woman to have suffered domestic violence. They have higher rates of mental illness and substance abuse.

What keeps them going now, decades after their diagnoses, varies widely. For some, connections with their families, especially their now-adult children, are critical. For others, HIV advocacy work keeps them motivated and hopeful.

Patti Radigan (righ) instructs daughter Angelica and Angelica’s boyfriend, Jayson Cabanas, on preparing green beans for Thanksgiving while Roman Tom Pierce, 8, watches.

Patti Radigan was living in a cardboard box on South Van Ness Avenue in San Francisco when she tested positive in 1992. By then, she’d lost her husband to a heart attack while a young mother, and not long after that she lost her daughter, too, when her drug use got out of control and her sister-in-law took in the child.

She turned to prostitution in the late 1980s to support a heroin addiction. She’d heard of HIV by then and knew it was deadly. She’d seen people on the streets in the Mission where she worked, wasting away and then disappearing altogether. But she still thought of it as something that affected gay men, not women, even those living on the margins.

Women then, and now, were much more likely than men to contract HIV from intravenous drug use rather than sex — though in Radigan’s case, it could have been either. IV drug use is the cause of transmission for nearly half of all women, according to San Francisco public health reports. It’s the cause for less than 20 percent for men.

Still, when Radigan finally got tested, it wasn’t because she was worried she might be positive, but because the clinic was offering subjects $20. She needed the cash for drugs.

She was scared enough after the diagnosis — and then she got pregnant. It was the early 1990s, and HIV experts at UCSF were just starting to believe they could finesse women through pregnancy and help them deliver healthy babies. Today, it’s widely understood that women with HIV can safely have children; San Francisco hasn’t seen a baby born with HIV since 2004.

But in the 1990s, getting pregnant was considered selfish — even if the baby survived, its mother most certainly wouldn’t live long enough to raise her. For women infected at the time, having children was something else they had to give up.

And so Radigan had an abortion. But she got pregnant again in 1995, and she was desperate to have this child. She was living by then with 10 gay men in a boarding house for recovering addicts. Bracing herself for an onslaught of criticism, she told her housemates. First they were quiet, then someone yelled, “Oh my God, we’re having a baby!”

“It was like having 10 big brothers,” Radigan said, smiling at the memory. Buoyed by their support, she kept the pregnancy and had a healthy girl.

Radigan is 59 now; her daughter, Angelica Tom, is 20. They both live in San Francisco after moving to the East Coast for a while. It was because of her daughter that Radigan stayed sober, that she consistently took her meds, and that she went back to school to tend to her future.

For a long time she told people she just wanted to live long enough to see her daughter graduate high school. Now her daughter is in art school and Radigan is healthy enough to hold a part-time job, to lead yoga classes on weekends, to go out with friends for a Friday night concert.

“Because of HIV, I thought I was never going to do a lot of things,” Radigan said. “The universe is aligning for me. And now I feel like I deserve it. For a long time, I didn’t feel like I deserved anything.”

Anita Schools, who says she is most troubled by finances, listens to an HIV-positive woman speak about her experiences and fears at an Oakland support group that Schools organized.

Anita Schools got tested for HIV because her ex-boyfriend kept telling her she should. That should have been a warning sign, she knows now.

She was first diagnosed in 1998 at a neighborhood clinic in Oakland, but it took two more tests at San Francisco General Hospital for her to accept she was positive. People told her that HIV wasn’t necessarily fatal, but she had trouble believing she was going to live. All she could think was, “Why me? What did I do?”

It was only after her daughter Bonnie reassured her that Schools started to think beyond the immediate anxiety and anger. She joined a support group for HIV-positive women, finding comfort in their stories and shared experiences. Ten years later, she was leading her own group.

She’s never had problems with drugs or alcohol, and she has a network of friends and family for emotional support, she said. Even the HIV hasn’t hit her too hard, physically, though the drugs to treat it have attacked her kidneys, leaving her ill and fatigued.

Like so many of the women she advises in her support group, Schools is most troubled by her finances. She gets by on Social Security and has bounced among Section 8 housing all over the Bay Area for most of her adult life.

Schools’ current apartment is supposed to be permanent, but she worries she could lose it if her daughter’s family stays with her too long. So earlier this month they moved out and are now sleeping in homeless shelters or, some nights, in their car. She hates letting them leave but doesn’t feel she has any other choice.

Reports show that women with HIV are far more likely to live in poverty than men. Khanna, with the Positive Women’s Network, said surveys of her members found that 85 percent make less than $25,000 a year, and roughly half take home less than $10,000.

Schools can’t always afford the bus or BART tickets she needs to get to doctor appointments and support group meetings, relying instead on rides from friends — or sometimes skipping events altogether. She gets her food primarily from food banks. Her wardrobe is dominated by T-shirts she gets from the HIV organizations with which she volunteers.

“With Social Security, $889 a month, that ain’t enough,” Schools said. “You got to pay your rent, and then PG&E, and then you got to pay your cell phone, buy clothes — it’s all hard.”

At a time when other women her age might be thinking about retirement or at least slowing down, advocacy work has taken over Schools’ life. She speaks out for women with HIV and their needs, demanding financial and health resources for them. In her support group and at AIDS conferences, she offers her story of survival as a sort of jagged road map for other women struggling to navigate the complex warren of services they’ll need to get by.

The work gives her confidence and purpose. She feels she can directly influence women’s lives in a way that seemed beyond her when she was young, unemployed and directionless.

“As long as I’m getting help and support,” Schools said, “I want to help other women — help them get somewhere.”

Billie Cooper is tall and striking, loud and brash. Her makeup is polished, her nails flawless. She is, she says with a booming laugh that makes heads turn, “the ultimate senior woman.”

For Cooper, 58, HIV was transformative. Like Radigan, she had to find her way out from under addiction and prostitution to get healthy, and stay healthy. Like Schools, she came to understand the importance of role-modeling and advocacy.

Cooper arrived in San Francisco in the summer of 1980 — almost a year to the day before the first reports of HIV surfaced in the United States. She was fresh out of the Navy and eager to explore her gender identity and sexuality in San Francisco’s burgeoning gay and transgender communities.

Growing up in Philadelphia, she’d known she was different from the boys around her, though it was decades before she found the language to express it and identified as a transgender woman. But seeing the “divas on Post Street, the ladies in the Tenderloin, the transsexual women prostituting on Eddy” — Cooper was awestruck.

She slipped quickly into prostitution and drug use. When she tested positive in 1985, she wasn’t surprised and barely wasted a thought worrying about what it meant for her future — or whether she’d have any future at all.

“I felt as though I still had to keep it moving,” Cooper said. “I didn’t slow down and cry or nothing.”

Transgender women have always been at heightened risk of HIV. Some studies have found that more than 1 in 5 transgender women is infected, and today about 340 HIV-positive trans women live in San Francisco.

What makes them more vulnerable is complicated. Trans women often have less access to health care and less stable housing than others, and they face higher rates of drug addiction and sexual violence, all of which are associated with risk of HIV infection.

Cooper was homeless off and on through the 1980s and ’90s, trapped in a world of drugs and sex work that felt glamorous at the time but in hindsight was crippling. “I was doing things out of loneliness,” she said, “and I was doing things to feel love. That’s why I prostituted, why I did drugs.”

She began to clean up around 2000, though it would take five or six years to fully quit using. She found a permanent place to live. She collected Social Security. She started working in support services for other transgender women battling HIV. In 2013, she founded TransLife, a support group at the San Francisco AIDS Foundation.

“I was coming out as the activist, the warrior, the determined woman I was always meant to be,” she said.

Cooper never developed any of the common, often fatal complications of HIV — including opportunistic infections like pneumonia — that killed millions in the 1980s and 1990s. But she does have neuropathy, an HIV-related nerve condition that causes a constant pins-and-needles sensation in her feet and legs and sometimes makes it hard to walk.

Far more traumatic for her was her cancer diagnosis in 2006. The cancer, which may have been related to HIV, was isolated to her left eye, but after traditional therapies failed, the eye was surgically removed on Thanksgiving Day in 2009.

The cancer and the loss of her eye was a devastating setback for a woman who had always focused on her appearance, on looking as gorgeous as the transgender women she so admired in the Tenderloin, on being loved and wanted for her beauty.

Rising from that loss has been difficult, she said. And she’s continued to suffer new health problems, including blood clots in one of her legs. Recently, she’s fallen several times, in frightening episodes that may be related to the clots, the HIV or something else entirely.

Since Thanksgiving she’s been in and out of the hospital, and though she tries to stay upbeat, it’s clearly trying her patience.

But if HIV and cancer and everything else have tested Cooper’s survival in ways she never anticipated, these trials also have strengthened her resolve. She’s becoming the person she always wanted to be.

“A week before they took my eye, I got my breasts,” she said coyly one recent afternoon, thrusting out her chest. Behind the sunglasses she wears almost constantly now, she was smiling and crying, all at once.

Aging with HIV has been strangely calming, in some ways, giving her a confidence that in her wild youth was elusive.

Now she exults in being a respected elder in the HIV and transgender communities. She loves it when people open doors for her or help her cross the street, offer to carry her bags or give up a seat on a bus.

Simply, she said, “I love being Ms. Billie Cooper.”

Complete Article HERE!

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