No Judgment Zone: Are Black Women Free To Talk About Sexuality on Their Own Terms?
If you are wearing pearls and have been known to clutch them often because you think that discussions of sex should only happen in the bedroom, the following post is not for you. But if you are down for an open and frank discussion about sexuality, by all means, continue reading below.
“In 2001, Glamour magazine assigned entertainment journalist Margeaux Rawson to interview the four Queens of Comedy — Adele Givens, Miss Laura Hayes, Mo’Nique and Sommore — about sex. The specific assignment was to uncover the “10 Commandments of Sex,” as decried by the Queens. Armed with all the buffalo wings and bottles of Veuve Clicquot her expense account could manage, the writer met the quartet of comediennes in a Los Angeles hotel suite. Alas, it appears as if the champagne and chicken should have been left in New York: Glamour deemed every inch of the transcript too “blue” for its perfume-scented pages. Lowbrow, on the other hand, considered the interview just lewd enough…”
Lewd is not quite the term I would use. This exchange about the dos and dont’s of all things sex with the self-proclaimed “Queens of Comedy” is balls-to-the-wall out there. I mean, from jump Mo’Nique sets it off with stuff that we can’t probably print in this post without making some of you blush. But lets just say the conversation involves lots of discussion about fellatio (both giving and receiving), junk size (and I quote: “If your package is too small, my favorite position is with another muthaf****), the avoidance of butt-play and S&M.
This conversation sounds familiar to me. I can remember vividly those days when a bunch of girlfriends and I would sit around – whether it be the bar or on somebody’s couch – and dish about what we liked, didn’t like so much, wanted to try, were NEVER gonna do (unless we were married) and all the other graphic details about our sexual conquests. You heard many of the words printed in the Jezzie article plus many more not even thought of.
Likewise, we were all different sexually – there was the one girlfriend that did and tried everything under the sun and always had a juicy story to share. There was the other girlfriend, who would blush and shake her head in embarrassment over our stories–that was until later in the conversation when she would drop some freaky bombshell that had the rest of our mouths wide open. And finally, there was the eavesdropping dude (perhaps the older brother or boyfriend of one of the girlfriends), who sat close enough to hear all of our sordid details without actually being involved in the conversation but would, from time to time, chime in to say something like: “I always knew girls were nastier than boys.” These frank and colorful dialogues were the essence of our sister girl circles. We felt free and safe to not only exhale but to inhale and exhale some more.