Save the Tatas, Free the Nipple

As we bring the month of October to a close, let us give honor to those lovely peaks of flesh: boobs, breasts, tits, jugs, cans, hooters, knockers, melons, rack, etc, etc.

Breast cancer ain’t really my thing. I’m all for awareness, but there is just so many other things around it (capitalism) that just doesn’t sit well with me. It’s an energy thing and if you’d like to learn more in regards to black women/black bodies and breast cancer, you should definitely search Ericka Hart. As a breast cancer survivor, and sex educator and advocate, she offers so much more insight into this world than I ever could.

Even so, I fucking love my boobs. And for obvious reasons of the sexualization of women’s breast, the true depth of this statement will not be fully comprehensible to most.

Too many of us believe women’s breast are for male consumption. Nope. They are not. They are for infant consumption. This is where my love for breast originated at 7 years old, with the single hope that I might one day posses a set by which to nurse my own children.

Making their debut at a 34 B, my boobs were the loveliest mounds of flesh I’d ever laid eyes on. They were everything to me. Not even exaggerating 😆.

While other girls I knew who were as developed as I was at my same age took painstaking measures to hide or minimize their boobs in our small southern Bible belt town, I’d proudly put mine on display in low cut blouses and crop tops.

Of course me being the helpless, naive, temptress of a woman that I am, I was obviously putting my breast on display to get attention from boys and seduce grown men and not because I was simply excited to have breast and I genuinely enjoyed looking at them damn myself 😑.

Let the record show that a woman is capable of loving and furthermore appreciating her breast much more than a man ever could. Not even up for debate; that came from the source.

But again, everything that a man deems sexual about a woman is clearly for the attention of men even when said woman is lesbian. Oh, but I digress.

A decade after my girls made their debut, I gave birth to my first born. What an exciting moment!? I’d been fantasizing this moment since I was 7 years old. Talk about a dream come true.

I couldn’t wait to cradle her in my arms and nurse her into the perfect image of health as we continued to build this amazing and effortless bond on the outside. Being able to nurse my children from my own bossom, as my grandma so lovingly calls them, has been one of the most priceless and humanly authentic experiences of my life.

It’s baffling that so many people see the female nipple only as a sexual segue. Oh it is soooo much more; What a limiting perspective!

I wrote all that to say, yes, let us do the work (research) to save the tatas 🎗️, but let us also do the work to free the nipple ✊🏾✊🏾✊🏾.

Pretty Pink Lotus Bud for sex-positive spaces; #WomensOrgasmMatter; the sexually liberated woman, proheaux, sex magic

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