Everybody shake it/time to be free amongst yourselves/your mama told you to be discreet/and keep your freak to yourself/but your mama lied to you all this time/she knows as well as you and I/you’ve got express what is taboo in you/and share your freak with the rest of us/cause it’s a beautiful thang Macy Gray, “Sexual Revolution” Id, 2001 A celibate-by-default soul sister, a gifted educator, and a self-proclaimed freak are a lethal combination. My friends and I had not been together in months, and clearly, it was time to catch up with one another. We all needed it. Each of us was going through personal drama, and longed for encouragement, console, and female energy. One hot summer July afternoon in Chicago, three Black women heralded support for one another. We sat around for hours, and confabbed about the struggles in the African American community: police brutality, the sub par education system that has a stranglehold on our youth, and the fact that there are too many people without healthcare in this country. We discussed politics, economics, family, personal ambitions, self-perceptions, and most importantly, sex. We were engaged in a full-fledged feminist discourse, but like many other Black women who participate in this ritual of disclosure, we never identified our reunion as a feminist moment. When we discussed our plight, we inherently linked our conditions to the larger African American community. In fact, we were doing what feminist scholar Patricia Hill Collins considers a convergence of African American and women-centered values . Our interrogations of the black woman’s role in the home, at work, and within our community were identical to the theoretically feminist concerns of power and patriarchy. Instead of just complaining and talking about it, though, we took our problems into our own hands, literally. As a group of sexually liberated girls, we climbed into our SUV and headed to a tucked away, low-key, non-descript sex store on the southwest side of Chicago. Sheryl* was realizing her husband of two-and-a half years and her lover for seven, was about as mature as their two year-old daughter, Sela. He seemed to admonish responsibility—financial, emotional, and personal. As the bills mounted, and the daily realities of being a parent and a husband became more pressing and rote, so did the frequency of the arguments, as well as his obstinacy. According to Sheryl, their sex life was still good, but for her, even that was becoming obligatory. And she knew, had read it somewhere in fact, that when the sex life goes, the marriage is shot. So, Sheryl was worried, and extremely perplexed. She stated rhetorically: Who is this masked man? She had talked to her husband about her growing concerns, and with each argument, he seemed disinterested. So now, it was time to seek solutions from her sister-friends. On this hot summer afternoon, Sheryl lamented and vented, and we sisters listened and consoled. Nichelle, a bright high school English teacher reported frustrations of working in a bureaucracy, and trying to create an innovative curriculum for at-risk youth in an environment overwrought with parochial administrators. Interspersed were her concerns for her young female students who wholeheartedly embraced popular culture, and its vehemently sexist notions of women, power and prestige. Nichelle also quipped, “why are my teenage students getting more ass than me?” We paid attention as she lamented about her ‘celibacy-by-default’ status. As for me, I was reeling from just completing my first year as a Ph.D. student, and trying to come to grips with my sincere hesitancy to continue this life-long personal and professional dream. The incredible sense of isolation and insecurity often associated with being in graduate school had reached a critical level. I was feeling like everything I knew was being questioned, particularly my self worth. This feeling of lack of esteem was compounded when my long distance beau of nearly two years, and long-term friend of nearly a decade told me that he did not desire to see me monthly like we (translation: I) agreed (translation: insisted). Simply: he was not in love with me. I was completely discouraged. Everything I thought I knew was challenged. The conundrum for each of us was determining a way to assuage our overall dissatisfaction with love and life. Sheryl needed to add spice—among other things—to her troubled relationship. Nichelle had to figure out how to balance her disappointment with her job, as well as calm her raging hormones. And I needed a complete life overhaul. More immediately, though, I needed to figure out how to deal with a very healthy libido sans lover.     [NEXT]