Liberation Comes in Waves…

I have been thinking alot about sex and sexuality.  Before moving to Denver, my sexuality and my polyamory looked so much different than how it looks now.  I asked the I-Ching what Denver had in store for me and it had a lot of really rich things to say about what I would find here in Denver.  One of them was liberation and deliverance.  I didn’t know it at the time, but the universe had a plan for me.  Liberation comes in different suits, and I was excited to find my own liberation.  I fell in love with Denver.  I fell in love with the world that populated this city, and the different anatomies and genders coupled with smiles and genuine hearts pretty much gave me an instant orgasm.  I would come home from the end of the day, whether it be from work or from hanging out with friend, with my panties wet.  That is how hot and how turned on I was/am by the beauty of Denver.

I met someone here in Denver.  Actually, I met a lot of people.  Some who grabbed my heart and squeezed it so tightly I felt overwhelmed by their love, and others who just took my heart and attempted to puncture it several times over.  And I can talk about those who have implanted their love into my womb and have led to the birth of me as a new being, but I will refrain.  Juicy details are best left unspoken sometimes.  In my case, they are best left to channel in my dreamscapes.  But regardless of love and loss, I understand now that it was really through leaving California, that I felt able to begin all over again with who I am as a sexual being.  I didn’t realize it then, but in reality and even in my non-linear fantasy world, I was suffocated in California.  I think back to who I was sexually, and I get overwhelmed, frustrated and I lose my ability to breathe.  I was suffocated by ex-lovers who I could never quite get away from, ex-lovers that left seeds of hurt and hate running wild through veins.  I was trapped by the fact that I only lived thirty minutes away from an abusive ex boyfriend that manipulated his way into my life and spit me back out on to the streets when I was still in my teens.  I was trapped by the ghost of his powerful hands that still haunts me at UC Santa Barbara.  I was trapped by the abusive ex lover who blamed me for every fucking problem in his life.  Yes, I will say that Enrique was abusive to me.  While he never lifted a hand against me, we are all smart enough to recognize the drastic and hurtful forms of abuse that exist in dating relationships that are not physical.  I am not sure who he mourned the loss of over more, his lover or his mommy.  And truthfully speaking, I felt boggled down by the pressures of my culture and my family to venture out and try things I had always fantasized about.  And even in the height of my exploration in San Diego, I still deeply feared being outed and dissapointing my family.  Being brown on the border with all of your family makes it hard to be a slut sometimes. Hehe.

And, I will admit, I felt trapped by the image people created of Matthew and myself.  Granted we played a significant role in providing elements to this image, but deep down inside, I wanted to exist as an autonomous person.  Not a person attached to another name.  I didn’t want to be a married person that was able to hook up with other people.  I didn’t want other lovers to feel threatened by Matthew in any way.  I so desperately wanted us to be seen as independent of each other, not two people enwrapped in a traditional polyamorous hierarchy where language like primary and secondary partners and ground rules were a part of our trajectory.  I just wanted something different, something new.  I didn’t know what it looked like exactly, but I definitely knew what I didn’t want it to look like.  The Ethical Slut is so overrated and spoke to an identity of whiteness and privilege that I just couldn’t see myself in.  And even Wendy O-Matik’s book Redefining Our Relationships, while more intriguing, it still felt so distant to me.  I didn’t’ see myself in any of those images or scenarios or chapters of advice.  Where the fuck was the book written by a first generation queer Latina polyamorist in an interracial relationship??  Where were the conversations about the difficulties of dealing with a Machista father, or the conversations about race and class and their vines entwined with my identity as a poly person?  I guess that’s why I am writing this.

And some of these feelings are not the fault of us, or the people around us. In San Diego, you just couldn’t have your own room if you were a starving artists or a student or an activist or someone who believed in a structure that looked like anything other than capitalism.  Well you could if you were lucky.  But California just doesn’t work that way.  So after four years of being poly, having had a wedding ceremony, and sharing a room, it was really out of our control how people viewed us.  I felt trapped by the idea that sometimes I was made to feel not “queer” enough.  The queer community can be so harsh sometimes.  I remember being in Grad School and being told about the GLBT dinner that was organized by my own Graduate Advisor, yet I was not on invited.  And this isn’t to say that I don’t recognize the heterosexual privilege Matthew and I carry, I do.  We do.  But we are also hungry to be validated as the queer peoples that we are.  And sadly, that validation came at a hard price sometimes.

I realize now, that while I am so so so in love with Califorinia, and it is MY HOME, I will never allow myself to feel trapped again.  It’s just not what the universe has in store for me.  And I will never let myself be boxed in again like I had for so many years.  And people will say that Matthew and I were so un conventional, that we were role models for so many people who wanted to bust through the possessive seams of monogamy.  And while I understand that for a lot of my friends, this was a healthy thing, for me, i still felt trapped.  Because I was always, regardless of what I wanted, Matthew’s partner.  And Matthew was always mine.  We were always “Eneri and Matthew.”

When we moved to Denver, the biggest priorities I had were to live in a community that looked like me (check), and to get a house where Matthew and I could have our own rooms (check).  This alone felt so fucking liberating.  I think back to that time now and I am understanding that I was then and still am on a trajectory towards liberation.  I can say this now in confidence, that the liberation that was prophecized for me was a profound sexual liberation.  A liberation where I can allow the path that was meant for me to be created step by step.  And I am not going to feel guilty for being a slut.  I am excited, confused and scared all at the same time about this liberation, about this journey, and excited about the new friends and lovers and I am trying on and taking off.    I am enwrapped in exploring this liberation.  And between enacting my deepest fantasies of being treated like a slut by a dude bro, falling in love with a Denver anarchist crusty punk, constantly seducing my dear friend Erica’s roommate, fearing the idea of getting banned from Red Trolley, or posting an ad in the erotic services section of CL for “translated french” so that my boi lover Alex can come visit,  it looks differently every day.  It drops in and out of my life like 80’s spandex.  Well, I don’t wear spandex but some of my friends do.  =) Regardless though, it comes in waves.  And the forecast for the current waves along the coast of Neti’s journey?  Well, that’s best left for another blog…

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3 Responses to “Liberation Comes in Waves…”

  1. Mandrake Says:

    This is such a great update into your life… and it makes me so happy to see you finding your liberation.. i have a feeling the waves are neverending..
    You know you now have to write that book, right? I misses,
    xoxo
    m

  2. Ase I say! You must write that book and continue speaking your truth. Kudos on take the leaps, feeling for the edges, seeking your bliss. That is life, or at least what life should be!

  3. So inspiring. I agree, write that book. Sounds like you are, in a way. This could be the intro.

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