#venusentry

As a girl, I can recall being told repeatedly to make sure nobody ever touched my "nook." My mother would sit me down and warn me sternly to never let someone touch me in a place that made me feel uncomfortable, and the impact those hand-me-down instructions left on my psyche shaped my feelings toward my sexuality. 

No one was supposed to touch my "nook-nook" and if it was in fact touched, I was not being responsible in protecting it. My nook was sacred and I couldn't let anyone violate that special part of me.

When I started "filling out," I became extremely self-conscious. Shirts and sweaters would get tied around my expanding hips and booty, extra-large shirts would camouflage my growing breasts. Masturbation? Please watch your mouth! Sex became this monster, and initially, I didn't want any parts of it. Any.

Then my curiosity became my friend and grew into anxiety, this desire to get my nook-nook touched. I watched my friends sneak off with boyfriends. I overheard them having sex in their rooms while I waited like a watch-guard in the living room. I was a spectator this entire time, my fear of letting my mother down wrapping itself firmly around my pelvis like a chastity belt. Finally, I decided enough was enough. I was going to do it. It seemed fun, careless, and I had yet to be just that. I was young, right? I had my whole life ahead of me to be more responsible. I jumped right on in, but it had its complications.

For one, the light switch became my friend. I didn't want to have sex in the light whatsoever, so I always made sure to turn off the lights. I didn't like the way my body looked. I thought my boo would change his mind. Secondly, when I had finally done it, I was satisfied but full of guilt. I wasn't supposed to let anyone touch my kitty, but I did and I couldn't take any of it back. Third, I confused sex for love. That was my way of communicating with my lover; we talked through rhythm, caressed each other into agreement.

I was taught to avoid sex, and now, I was using it to guide my relationship. This idea, however, isn't too far-fetched when it comes to us brown hunnies.

Since the traumatizing days of slavery, black women have been taught by their families to preserve their sexiness. We have been taught to keep it closed in tight for the special black man who would one day enter our lives and show us what real love is all about. This makes total sense: since we were slaves, hiding our true selves was the only potent method of self-preservation. The master and mistress could have our bodies, but never our minds. When master touched us, we stood silent and allowed our bodies to be used. When mistress, mad about her husband's desire to physically conquer us, beat us and made us breastfeed their young, we stood silent and took it all in. We have been standing silent since then, allowing ourselves to become what Zora Neale Hurston argues is the "mule of the world." We have become mothers and allowed our breasts to sag wearily. We have become wives and allowed our husbands to use our bodies whenever they were in the mood. In the midst of this all, we have lost one thing that makes us who we are: our sexuality. 

How others perceive us is what now shapes our thinking about sexuality. We think a big booty, some jumbo-sized breasts, a few piercings and a lower back tatt makes us sexy. We have forgotten that our sexuality is in our shapes, our eyes, our arms, our imagination. We forgot about the sex poring through our walk, our sassy talk, our juicy lips, our geniune hearts. We don't notice the men who stare simply because of who we are and the aura we emit. This is never to say that we believe we are superior; We know that every woman, regardless of background or race, has some sexy in her. Ours has been buried for so long that It takes forever to bring it out. Why is it important to embrace the beautiful brown sexual creatures we are?

We have a generation of wide-eyed young brown hunnies who are looking to us as an example, a blueprint. Period. If we can't be comfortable in our own skin, how can we teach them to be? Nah, we have to practice our preachings. They look to us, watch how we dance, talk to, and regard our lovers. 

We forget our worth when we fail to really look at our beautiful selves. This leads to us dating and being hurt by idiots and fools. We get so overwhelmed when someone shows the simplest gesture of affection that we throw ourselves all in without any guarantee that it is a two-person deal. Embracing our sexy will allow us to see ourselves for the dimes we are, which helps us to bring it to the potential boo. Once he is aware of the beautiful woman adorning his arm, he won't hesitate to do what it takes to keep her.

We are simply too fine to ignore our sexy!  We are gorgeous, ambitious, spiritual hunnies. We cannot let our potential go to waste! 

I think this was why Foxy was my girl. She embraced her sexy like she was born to do it. She used her beauty and brains to solve every problem (albeit fictional and predictable). She became the face of the black woman at the time: sexy, cocky, smart, sophisticated.