A Return to Degeneracy
I just wanna talk about how people always say
“Yo, that’s too nasty” and— and, “Why your mouth so vulgar?”
“Why you gotta— Why you gotta sing all these nasty records?”
And all that, but I be representin’ for the ladies and
We got somethin’ to say
We’ve been quiet too long
— MISSY ELLIOTT, “Pussycat”
Look on my Instagram profile, and you’ll see a pinned post of a woman adorned in a gold bikini, hands on her tits, gold chain hanging, with a snarl, growling back at you. In 2024, I did a photo shoot with my good friend LIGHTPAINTERR. For the shoot, I wanted to replicate the video vixens of the early aughts. Women decked in metallic bathing suits, in provocative poses, serving face and sex appeal to the camera. It was my way of paying homage to these women and to do something that made me feel confident and sexy in my body. As a Black trans woman, I often internalize negative perceptions about my body and self-image. Our society tells Black women that our sensuality is not ours; rather, it’s someone else’s to pick apart, capitalize, or erase completely. Our society often espouses that trans women are innate predators, looking to “trick” men into sleeping with us. That our sexuality is a means to an end for these men. All of these notions remove Black trans women from having any agency in our sexuality and make some of us, like me, mitigate or even ignore our own sexual pleasure.
This is an essay about sex. It’s about prioritizing pleasure and desire for whatever brings you joy. If you often find yourself judging, crinkling your nose in disgust, or thinking you’re better than someone else for showing skin or being sex positive, then this might be for you. Recently, I’ve been thinking about how, with the rise of conservative politics, comes a repression of sex, sexual expression, and women’s bodily autonomy. It would seem like a no-brainer that women, like men (and those inside or outside the binary), have and enjoy sex. Unfortunately, we are living in a time where men with Madonna-whore complexes are making it everyone else’s problem, forcing women into two states of being, the uncaring whore or saintly virgin—a passive archetype nonetheless. But this essay isn’t purely addressed to these men. Rather, I want my readers to examine their own beliefs around sex and sexuality and how we may be holding onto internalized shame and disgust not only for others, but ourselves. Hopefully, by investigating, naming, and affirming our desires, we can learn to appreciate how our bodies make us feel sexy and can enjoy all that it has to offer us.
The Pussy Print
Heaven forbid a woman be horny, lustful, or know her desires. I’ve been saying this a lot recently, but for good reason. I’ve come to realize that some people are uncomfortable when women express our desires in raunchy or uncouth ways. Take Missy Elliott’s “Pussycat,” which I interpolate in the epigraph. “Why your mouth so vulgar?” she says, referencing her detractors’ critiques. Missy states, “We’ve been quiet too long,” and I have to agree. We’ve been passive in our relationships, not prioritizing our own wants and needs, no matter how nasty, and Missy wasn’t alone in saying this. I can still remember hearing Rihanna’s “Rude Boy” on repeat at a young age on the car radio. Her command, “Come here rude boy, boy, is you big enough?” flew over my head until years later, when I started to explore my own sexual desires, and when it finally clicked, girlll, I was blushing! Maybe I should not have been listening to certain songs when I was far too young, but I believe that had I not had these songs to guide me from adolescence into womanhood, my perception of sex would remain as a blight to ignore rather than something that I could thoroughly enjoy.
When I was in high school, women in rap music were making it big. I still attest to the fact that to be a Black girl in the summer of 2019 was a joyful experience. The City Girls and Megan thee Stallion made it onto all of our playlists, and their songs emboldened the power of what Dr. Shoniqua Roach calls the “Black pussy,” specifically, how Black feminine acts of eroticism can elicit strength and influence towards Black women’s sexual and personal gratification. Roach’s article “Black Pussy Power” highlights how Black women’s performance of overt and provocative sexuality is an act of demanding subjectivity rather than objectification. She specifically points to the idea of Black pussy power as a technology of Black feminine survival through Pam Grier’s films (1973’s Coffy & 1974’s Foxy Brown), Lil Kim’s Hardcore, and Foxy Brown’s Ill Na Na.
Now don’t get it twisted, Roach’s definition of Black pussy power is not merely tied to female genitalia as to “theorise the polymorphous potential of black pussy [is] to signify beyond the narrow gender and sexual grammars currently available to us.” These performances were nasty, and for a young Black trans girl who already felt a little disgusted with herself, it made me revel in the prospect of what it meant to embrace what our society deemed as inappropriate and vile for a Black woman to do and be. And yes, to see how powerful this “pussy” really was.
Black Sexual Agency
I often felt gross in my body, like my partner would take one look at my naked flesh and instantly regret every decision they made. I felt like a creep every time I got so much as a crush on a guy. My desires were something to hide, and I constantly had a voice in the back of my head telling me that I was making others uncomfortable, which then turned me off to the idea of sex altogether. The constant ebb and flow of my libido due to hormones also made me feel weary and confused about sex and if I even had desires to begin with. Other people’s lust and attraction did nothing for me as I refused to let myself even get that far, and in the rare moments when I did have someone in my bed, I centered their pleasure rather than my own.
And yet, I love feeling sexy. I love wearing lingerie. I love taking pictures that show off my still-growing tits and ass. I love screaming out lyrics that speak to how I want a dude to “[t]ouch me, taste me, fuck me, squeeze me” (City Girls “Take Yo Man). I like experimenting and taking my pleasure by the reins. I love listening to Lil Kim’s “How Many Licks?” imaging her sexual conquests as my own. Does that make me a degenerate? Probably, but in a society like ours, that may not be such a bad thing. What often gets misconstrued in the dominant culture is how Black feminine sexuality and a proclamation for sex have to inherently involve men or penetration at all, and this is far from the truth.
I look sexy for my girls, I get dolled up for my girls. I love girls as much as I love guys, and trust me, there are many ways to orgasm that don’t require a cis-het man going to pound town. As Missy said, we’ve been quiet too long. I find that the loud and unapologetic declaration of my desires and fantasies is what allows me to take back my power and agency. Sex can and will be good again with the right partner(s) and positive sexual self-esteem. When in doubt, just have Janet Jackson or Donna Summer transport you to a higher plane through their moans and climaxes on songs like “When We Oooo” or “Love to Love You Baby”; trust me, it works.
Reject Modernity (Tradwife), Embrace Tradition (Hoochie Mama)
In a time when right-wing ideologies are spreading fast, and people’s autonomy is being challenged and restricted, we all need to remain vigilant to the ways certain ideas and beliefs make their way into our subconscious. Purity and respectability politics only serve to hold us back and pit ourselves against each other for a seat at the unstable table that is white patriarchal approval. Wear your booty shorts and gold hoop earrings, clack those acrylic nails, and flirt like you have nothing to lose, it’s your life and your body.
I want us to become active sexual beings who demand freedom on our own terms and no one else’s. No matter if society deems you a prude or a slut, how you get off is your prerogative and sure as hell not the State’s.
In this reclamation of the raunchy, degenerate, and unseemly, I want a return to the video vixens and hoochie mamas of yesteryear. However, rather than becoming status symbols for men’s desires, or something to compare oneself to and thus avoid at all costs, I want us to reclaim these images for our own power and pleasure. I want the girls to feel empowered to feel vulgar, sexy, and filthy in their desires. Curse a little more and swish a bit when you strut down the street to the tune of Trina’s “Pull Over” in your ear, and trust me that your Black pussy power will be unstoppable.