‘Do you want to make out?’
By putting those magic words out into the world, I had put something into the air around us. I had awoken something in me. I had transformed myself. Quickly we were all over each other. She was pulling my hair and biting my neck and breasts. She chewed on my lips until it looked like I was wearing purple lipstick. She made me feel more in my body than I had ever felt before. I could feel every inch of my skin; every pore and nerve in my body was singing. I was a goddess.
The first time I had casual sex, a one-night stand, I felt like I was entering a religious fervour, like a mystic or a whirling dervish. I was too afraid, too ashamed to try this until I was thirty years old, and when I released all that shame and fear into the air that autumn night, I finally became my true self. I opened my eyes to a new way of living that gives me more strength and confidence than I've ever had before. I realised that I'm a slut and I love being a slut and I'm powerful when I'm a slut. This is who I am.
Have you ever felt like you're something more than human? Felt like you were more powerful than you had any right to be? That night I felt like I was flying. I felt like we were playing ‘light as a feather, stiff as a board’, but it was only her fingers and tongue touching me and lifting me up into the air. I started screeching like a banshee and cackling like a witch. ‘Be quiet or the whole camp will hear you!’ I could barely get out the words ‘I don't care’ through my laughter. I shook those walls that night. I screamed and laughed until the room shook just as much as my legs did when I stood up afterwards. This is what power feels like.
Now that I've tasted that power, I never want to feel powerless again. I do summoning spells to call on partners to sleep with. I cover myself in magical runes and colours to strengthen my body and mind and heart. I conjure the sexuality that I want to have into being. I own my body and I own my sexuality. I'm a bruja. I'm a puta. I won't let anyone dictate my sexuality except for me. I'm made of magic, motherfucker.
As a woman I'm constantly told to be quiet, especially when it comes to my sexuality. I'm supposed to speak softly and never cause a commotion. I'm supposed to raise my hand and wait my turn to talk. I'm supposed to be demure and soft-spoken. No one likes a loud lady. Be quiet and let your husband do the talking for you. Don't talk back or interrupt. Loud men are assertive and leaders; loud women are only ever bitchy or loudmouths.
Back before I transitioned, I was told, ‘Never go out with a girl who asks you out. Girls like that are tramps.’ Because of that warning, and because I knew I was a girl, I didn't ask anyone out until my second year of college. I was afraid that if I talked about desire or sex, people would think I was disgusting and immoral. I held the garbage belief that wanting to have sex made me a bad person. We have to put up with men constantly talking about their sex lives, but when we do it, we're sluts. And when we're called sluts, it's not meant as a compliment, but rather as something the patriarchy wants us to believe we should be ashamed of.
I was even taught that women don't like sex. My church told me, ‘Men give love to get sex and women give sex to get love.’ Before I had sex, I thought that men could be loud, but women usually would just lie there. I really thought that. I thought that I was sick for being attracted to people and thinking and dreaming about sex. I thought that in order to be a good person, I needed to keep those thoughts and desires quiet. I thought I needed to be silent whenever the boys were talking about sex.
But fuck that lack of noise. Now when I fuck, I scream and I yell and I laugh my head off. I want the world to know how much pleasure I'm feeling. I want to scream so loud that the pastor at my old church hears me, and I want my laughter to echo down the hallways of the houses of the men who made me feel ashamed for wanting to feel pleasure.
This censorship doesn't just happen with the noise we make and the things we talk about. Men do all sorts of things to try to keep us down. They know that we're powerful. They know that magic lies in our skin and blood and spit and in our freckles and hair and stretch marks. So they try to make us hide it and be ashamed of it. They don't want us to show skin because it makes them too weak to control themselves. They don't want us to walk tall because it makes them smaller. They don't want us to be sexual beings in public because it neuters them.
Becoming powerful like this doesn't happen overnight or by accident. Sluttiness, like magic, is all about practice and intentions. You've got to focus on your spell and focus on your sex appeal. You've got to hone your craft and you've got to hone your skills in the bedroom. I can't even count the number of hours I've spent admiring my thighs in mirrors or taking selfies and posting them saying that I'm hot. I had to speak those things into truth. I am sexy because I say that I am and I have been saying I am and will continue to say that I am. My words are powerful and magic, and when I use them to build myself up, they're not just words, they're potions that touch my lips and make me stronger and braver than I ever was before.
I turn my affirmations into spells. I repeat them three times.
I love my ass, I love my ass, I love my ass. I love my thighs, my lips, and eyes. I love my thighs, my lips, and eyes. I love my thighs, my lips, and eyes. I look hot in this dress. I look hot in this dress. I look hot in this dress.
I've heard people say that the power in magic lies in the power that you put into the words. If you don't focus and if you don't put good intentions into it, the spell won't work. That's abundantly true here. You need to say these words until you mean them. Say them until they're the truest things you know. Say them until everyone around you believes them.
It took me literally thirty years to start liking my body, but girl, when I did, I started loving it. I'm a trans woman, I'm mixed race, I'm fat. There's so much about the way I look that is deemed unattractive by society, by men, by queer culture. When I look in the mirror, I don't see the type of person who is on magazine covers or billboards. I don't see the type of person who is hit on in queer clubs. I'm not androgynous or skinny or masc of centre, or the combination of skinny and masc of centre that so many people think has to define androgyny. I don't look anything like Tegan and Sara or Ellen Page or Kristen Stewart and I never will.
I'm not even the ‘good’ type of fat. My curves go in all the directions that they shouldn't. My boobs are small and my belly is big. I've got these child-bearing hips, that's true, but my waist is thick enough to disguise them. I'm so much lighter than most Latinos but vaguely ethnic to white people. I have the broad shoulders, big feet, and tall stature of the men in my family. I have a penis that feels like it doesn't belong to me. But, fuck, I love my body. I've worked hard to survive this long and be this cute and damn, I'm going to appreciate the vessel that's gotten me here. That's where I am now. That's where I've worked to be. That's where I'm going to continue to work on being.
For years I tried to make myself as invisible as I could. I would wear all blacks and greys and browns, I would cover as much of my body as I could, I would hope and pray that no one would give me a second glance. I would keep my head down and try to blend in. No more. Now I walk confidently through the world, hoping people look at me. I gain strength from their glances and their slack-jawed stares. They are paying attention to me and their attention is a valuable currency.
Think of yourself the way modern-day authors write about old gods. They get their power through worship. The more people who worship them, the stronger they are. According to these writers, the reason you don't see Odin and Bast and Quetzalcoatl around as much is because not nearly as many people worship them. It's the same thing with you. Don't become like these old gods. Stay fresh and stay relevant and stay vibrant. The more people look at you, the more they stare, the more they want you, the more power you have.
One of my favourite rituals is to take walks and feel this praise washing over me. I'll put on a skirt that shows off the tattoos on my uppermost thigh. I'll get my favourite t-shirt and I'll cut off the sleeves and the bottom half and make a crop top that lets my body breathe. I'll paint my lips pink and draw the sharpest cat eyes I can. I'll put in some of my chola hoops and finish it off with a playlist full of songs that make me feel amazing. There's this thing where men think that we dress for them and walk down the street just for them. Turn that ritual around on them. If they want to stare, use those stares to become more powerful. The difference between being proud and in control of your sexuality and being objectified lies in the power, so if you have the power, you're in control. Keep in mind that they're your worshippers and that you are more powerful than they will ever be.
Now, this is something you need to be safe with. There are vile men out there, vile people. Society teaches men that they're allowed to control us and hurt us no matter how magical we are. It's on them to change that. Until they do, form a sex pantheon. Get a slutty mythology together. Walk down the street with a group of fellow goddesses all looking the best you've ever looked. You and your friends will be even more powerful. These men gawking at you think that they're objectifying you, but you're in power — you're using them.
Always remember, a goddess is above those who worship her. When a man stares at your legs and whistles, that doesn't mean you owe him anything. Use that attention to feel good about yourself and to feel angry about the patriarchy. Fuck these men. Fuck these ‘catcallers’. They don't deserve you and your witchy divinity. They don't even deserve to be named after our familiars. They are just sticks and twigs that become fuel for your fire. They are throwing themselves into your flames to make you bigger and brighter. They're kindling. That's all they are. Don't give them anything more than that.
The world hates a slut, especially if she's powerful, especially if she loves herself and she loves her sluttiness. They'll applaud and holler and whistle, but they'll do it for themselves. The shouts aren't for you, they're for how they feel when they look at you. They'll stare. They'll stand in front of you. They'll grab you. The world will try its damnedest to hurt you. I'm sorry. I wish I were the kind of witch who could end this sort of thing. All I can do right now is tell you to use the hate you have for the people who would judge and hurt you to fuel your power. Turn that anger into pride. Even if they've hurt you, you've survived this long. You're better than them. You're magic and they are not.
There are other ways to use your sluttiness to weave magic around you. When we talk about witches, we talk about black hats and black cats and broomsticks and spells. As sluts, we have our own versions of those things. Our black hats are hankies in our back pockets. Our black cats are our purses filled with lipstick and our broomsticks are our sex toys. Our spells are our tattoos.
You may have heard of candle magic, where you get candles and the different colours are good for different kinds of spells. And you can combine multiple candles to get a more powerful spell. If I light a green candle for success and a red candle for strength, I'll go into a situation prepared to take control and do my best. Let's take those principles and apply them to the hanky code. Now we're working with slut magic.
So, you're flagging that you're looking for a daddy (you know, someone who's good at taking control and punishing you in all the best ways), that's hunter green. But you're also into fisting and being fisted. So you want to flag red. In candle magic, green, like I said, is good for success, money, and prosperity; red is good for love, strength, life, and vitality. So you're not only flagging for two things that you love, but you're also doing hanky magic to bring success and love. You're on fire.
There are just as many colours of hankies as there are candles. There are just as many ways to weave together spells. Even more, there's a strong magic of tradition in using the hanky code. For decades, queers had to use this code to communicate in secret with each other to avoid persecution. This is a secret language of symbols and colours and body language. Few things get more magical than that. The souls of the gay men and lesbians and bisexual people who went cruising every night in decades past live on in the hankies that you carry in your back pockets. These are your ancestors. They give you strength.
Strength also comes from the elements. Many witches use the elements to charge their crystals; you can use them to charge your sex toys. I want my sex toys to be as magical as I am. When you get a new toy, leave it under the light of the full moon, run fresh water over it, charge it with a candle or with earth. Since you need to clean your sex toys, you can charge them while you do that as well. Wash it with clear water. Water from a tap is fine. When there's a full moon, leave your plug or dildo or vibrator on your windowsill at sunset. Light some red candles for sexual energy next to it and surround it with citrine for self-esteem and garnets for vitality and strength. Put your intentions into it.
I will have mind-blowingly awesome sex this month. I will have mind-blowingly awesome sex this month. I will have mind-blowingly awesome sex this month.
In the morning, your toys will be charged full of sex magic and they'll be ready for you to ride them and keep them by your side.
There's a long tradition of magic tattoos in cultures that I can't speak to, as well as with modern witches who ink runes and symbols into their skin to give them strength and protection. When I do this, I get symbols of my fertility and sexuality permanently on my skin. I have a tattoo of a heart-shaped butt, with a bruise and a handprint and a cute bunny tail and the words ‘Sí Papi’ on the side. I know who I am, I know who I like, and now the world does too. This modern-day rune calls out to those I want to attract.
I'm a sub, I love pain, and I want dommes to know that. When I'm dancing in a club in my too-short skirt, people who know what my tattoo means will see it and they'll approach me. It's not an open invitation, but it is a sign in the window. It's an extension of the secret language of the hanky code. This time I can flash my thigh at my dance partner and if they understand my secret tongue, we'll get to share a lot more than a secret language.
There are so many right ways to be a slut. No matter what kind of slut you are, though, you can't control other people, and so there's a limit on what you can do. You're a goddess, but you still bow down to consent. Don't ever, ever, ever force your sluttiness on another. Learn to read the energy of a room and release your power only when it's appropriate. Meet other people where they are; don't force them to be at your level. There are plenty of opportunities to be a slut. You don't have to try to make them where they aren't.
You should keep your sluttiness in check in certain situations, but you should be the only one who owns it like that. No one else owns your magic. Other people will disappoint you sometimes, but that doesn't make you less powerful or less sexy. Most of the world is still stuck under the control of the boring, old-fashioned, cis- and heteronormative patriarchy. They're caught up in what they've been taught they should find attractive. There will always be people who will leave you for someone thinner, richer, prettier, whiter, more cis. There will always be people who will sleep with you but keep you hidden because you're not enough. Those people are not on your level. They won't be able to make you float off the ground or shake the walls with your screams. They don't know how to worship you. They're twigs and they can only help so much. You need the people who ask for consent before dancing with you in the club, Tinder matches that result in orgasms for everyone, respectful one-night stands; you need branches and logs thrown onto your fire.
There's that Terry Pratchett quote from his book Winter-smith, ‘A witch ought never to be frightened in the darkest forest, Granny Weatherwax had once told her, because she should be sure in her soul that the most terrifying thing in the forest was her.’ Well, I'm a witch and I'm a slut and I am never nervous in the sleaziest city. I am sure deep down in my slutty soul that the sexiest thing in the city is me. I keep that in mind, and I keep that in my heart; I'll tattoo it on my inner thigh and on my ass. I'm a slut and I have all the power that comes with that title, and if that makes me terrifying to the patriarchy, so be it.