Me, in brief


In the last post, I mentioned briefly that I happen to be a person with a disability.
I glided over this definition. It didn’t even get its own paragraph, but was relegated to an asterisk, an aside to be read only if you chose to scroll down.
But, if I’m going to write about sex, and occasionally sex and disability, it’s worth telling you a little bit about who I am.


I am a person with a disability. It took me years to be willing to say this. Even though I was in a car accident way back in 1995, and have been disabled since that time, I didn’t really identify with that label until just a few years ago.

Why didn’t I?

Well, I was scared and I was ashamed. I’m from rural Ontario- I was the only person with a visible disability in my high school, in my whole town even, and like all teenagers, I just wanted to fit in. Because I can stand up and walk around, climb stairs and communicate verbally, it was easy enough to deny my identity. I wasn’t “disabled”, I just looked a little different. I could still dance, drive trucks, party in corn fields, and smoke a whole bunch of dope. I mean, really, I was hardly different at all.

Why do I identify as a person with a disability now?

I began using these words when I moved away from Ontario. While Halifax, Nova Scotia isn’t exactly an inclusive, modern, metropolis, it still felt hella different than my previous life of cow-tipping.  And for the first time, I noticed that I am also hella different from most everyone else.
There was a shit tonne of challenges I had to navigate with this new Big City Livin’. I had to walk long blocks, I had to figure out the location of public bathrooms, and I had to climb at least one flight of stairs to get into almost any fucking establishment in this entire town.
There could be no denying it any longer. I was (am) different and shit was (is) hard. Traversing this city is hard, and claiming this new identity was initially pretty hard too. I mean, why the fuck would anyone want to adopt a label that is so shameful?  No one wants to be disabled. That means ‘less able’, see: ‘not-as-good-as’, ‘weaker’, and ‘different’, right?

It took a whole lot of time and whole lot of internal deconstruction to arrive at where I’m at now. Just like everyone else, I’ve been fed ableist notions my whole life, and so of course I came to believe it all. But, eventually, I tore that shit right up from its very foundations. I realized that:

  1. The way that I walk and all my bodily differences do not make me any less valuable a human.There is no rule that to be smart you have to stand, or to be sexy you have to speak, or to be worth something you have to walk.
  2. And with this, the belief system that had taught me that people with disabilities are worse off, ableism, well, it’s just wrong. ‘Able-bodied’ and ‘disabled’ are both just social constructions, categories contrived and reinforced by the world we live in. They are not inherent truths. It is not because a person can not climb stairs that they are disabled- it is because we live in an ableist world where stairs have been built rather than ramps, choosing to favour one type of body over another.  In another world, my body could just be considered a body that moves one way rather than another, instead of being considered a body that is less able, or a body that is not as good as.

So  finally, seventeen years after the car accident, I wear my disability with pride. I am glad I am different. Ain’t nothing like not fitting into the socially constructed categories to realize that they are just that- fucked up, oppressive social constructions that sure as shit aren’t worth aspiring to.

What does this have to do with fucking?

I know, my personal plot isn’t half as riveting as come n’ dildos, but stick with me, this is important.

The reason why I talk so much explicit (some may say vulgar) shit about sex, and about sex and disability together, is because I hate shame.
I think feeling ashamed of yourself and who you are is a gigantic waste of time and energy, a waste of living.
And these two things, sex and disability, are things that we flawed, frail, funny humans have taught ourselves to be ashamed of, to think are dirty or invaluable, or something not to be seen.

I care about sex because it has the capacity to make my body, your body, all of our bodies, feel good. It’s the source of so much pleasure, and pleasure makes life worth living. Sex is something to be having! Not something to be ashamed of!

And I care about disability politics because the bodies of those of us who identify as being people with disabilities are denied pleasure. Our sexuality is denied, and our dignity is denied. We are taught to feel ashamed. But our differences are our strengths and our source of beauty, not a source of shame. Disability ain’t nothing to be ashamed of!

Talking about sex and disability, explicitly and shamelessly, just makes the most sense to me. In talking about it and in writing about it, I am striving to create conversations about these things, conversations that let us examine our own beliefs and values, and let us examine the radical possibilities of pleasure, for all people (babe).

Why did I read this post? I am no better at butt play, B.J’s or the glorious gush, as a result of the last 2 minutes of skimming.

You read this post because this shit is important. Even if you aren’t currently living with a disability, it’s really fucking important to consider the ways in which socially constructed categories work to decide what sorts of people have value and what sorts of people are given the right to access their sexuality shamelessly.

Because the thing about oppression is, it’s intersectional- people with disabilities are taught to feel ashamed of ourselves and our sexuality. Women are taught to feel ashamed of ourselves and our sexuality. Trans people, people of colour, queer folks all along the rainbow: they are all taught to feel ashamed of themselves and their sexuality. So this shit that affects me as a person with a disability, well, it affects a whole lot of people. And it may affect you someday too, if it doesn’t already.

So, reconsider that hot babe you know in a wheelchair. Reconsider the way in which you have decided they may or may not be sexual. Reconsider the way you may have constructed the sexuality of a person of colour you know. Reconsider the ideas you may have about trans people and their hot bods. All of us, myself included, have been fed ableist, sexist, racist, homophobic, and transphobic ideas. They are pretty pervasive, and so, unfortunately, are made pretty easy to swallow and internalize. But that doesn’t mean we can’t reconsider them, can’t vomit them back up, push ’em outta our guts, and then decide to believe something new, something better, something more beautiful.

So, thanks for taking the time to read. And do take the time to consider the above.
For your patience, I promise I’ll make my next post all about fucking .
Maybe specifically finger-bangin’!
Or maybe even eating assholes!



Every Body’s Doing It


Listen. This may shock you. But you should know:

People in wheelchairs- they fuck. People with different motor abilities- they fuck. People who are blind- they’re fucking too. Everybody’s doing it.

There is a persistent and damaging myth that people with disabilities don’t have sex.  It is too often believed that if you don’t move your legs then you don’t orgasm, or if you don’t move your arms then you can’t make someone else come all over you.  It’s all a giant fucking lie, I swear.

This lie is rooted in ableism. Ableism, or the most basic definition of ableism, is the oppression of persons with disabilities. To expand, it is the assumption that being able-bodied is the norm, and that people who fall outside of this norm are lesser than: less intelligent, less desirable, and generally less valuable human beings as a whole.*

And what this looks like, to name just a few of the thousands of possible examples, is:  folks with disabilities not having access to public spaces; folks with disabilities not being spoken to directly; and folks with disabilities being cast as asexual, as not even having sexual desires let alone being considered super hot sex bombs (which trust me, we are**).

This lie is rooted in ableism, and is then perpetuated by mainstream ideas about sex. We see sex all the time. It is everywhere, either sizzling under the surface, or hot branded on the top of every single thing we consume, from music videos to donairs (don’t even try and tell me that you haven’t noticed how much the sauce oozing all ova’ that phallic wrap looks like cum).
But, only a certain kind of sexuality is portrayed in this ever-present visual come on.  Specifically, it’s the sex of skinny people, of straight people, of white people, and of able-bodied people. Mainstream sexual imagery almost never shows fat people, trans people, or people who are disabled, to name only a few of us outliers. And in excluding us, we are effectively being erased as sexual beings. Only one type of body and only one type of sexuality is being legitimized.

So, misconceptions about human sexuality are really fucking shit up for all kindsa’ folks, but pair that with ableism and you can see shit is especially fucked for people with disabilities. Can you even imagine what it’s like to be totally dehumanized and desexualized? Can you imagine what it’s like to not have your hot self be seen and celebrated in all your glory? It’s a fucking tragedy. One tragic lie.

Deconstructing this lie is beneficial for all people, not just those of us who identify as living with a disability. It is to your benefit to recognize the hotness of all sorts of bods because doing so is gonna make your sex life better (you could wildly expand your category of Potential People to Fuck). It is important because you too may one day find yourself living with a disability, if you aren’t already. And it is important because in deconstructing our ideas about human sexuality and about disability, and about sexuality and disability combined, we are working to deconstruct oppressive belief systems that limit all sorts of humans from accessing their right to safety, to dignity, and to pleasure.

To this end, to try and make the world a better, safer, sexier place for people in general, and especially people with disabilities, I am going to make this section all about sex and disability. Here will be the fucking facts about fucking disability, and disability &  fucking.

Come here to learn about toys to come to, to read about disability politics, and to see hot n’ dirty pictures of hot n’ dirty people with disabilities doin’ hot n’ dirty things.


* This belief system arises out of the traditionally held medical model of disability, which posits disability as a tragic medical condition that needs to be cured. This model does not allow room to consider the ways in which disability is an identity that is socially constructed, which is to say that the world that we live in systemically excludes and exploits folks who are different.  To consider disability as a social construct is to say that rather than “curing” disability, we should instead consider how systems, structures, institutions and entire modes of belief disallow some types of people and some types of bodies from being humanized. We need to deconstruct these systems of oppression rather than cure the bodies in question.
This is the briefest of overviews that I could give you about the big and beautiful world of disability politics, but I encourage you to read more, and more, AND MORE, and particularly, read the works of the brilliant Mia Mingus.

**I know that we are, not only because I am personally acquainted with my fair share of super hot sex bombs who also happen to be persons with disabilities, but because I fall into that category myself (hence the use of ‘we’).