So I’m at the BlogHer conference in Chicago, and lo and behold, I see a trade show booth from Trojan, the old reliable prophylactic, the stretchy shield from unwanted babies and disease, not selling rubbers, but…vibrators…and….lube!!!

I couldn’t not visit–there’s a ton of people in line to spin a Trojan-version of the Wheel-of-Fortune for a chance to win the grand prize…the VIBRATING TWISTER!! There it was in all it’s purple glory, five speeds, four positions and a cute little satin pouch to hid it away from the horrified eyes of children.

This one is from the “Midnight Collection,” same speed and positions, but this one has…ribs…

As I stand in line awaiting my turn, I notice that I’m the only black woman who dares show any interest, despite a respectable number of black women attending the conference. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out why: many black women are pretty clueless about their girly parts, and many of us feel shame associated with anything sexual (thanks a lot, black churches!!). Many of us fight against the curse of Jezebel, as she casts such dark shadows upon black women who desperately want to be preceived as more than just the objects of a man’s sexual release. Then there’s the sex-hating Madonna…

The one time I asked my mother about sex, she told me that it was the most painful thing imaginable…like a knife going inside of you. Hand to heart, that’s what she said. Too bad for her I knew she was full of it. Even at 10 years old I knew that if sex was THAT horrible, every woman of child-bearing age would have to be kidnapped and shackled to have sex, and the prisons would just be camps of pregnant women, like that one book, “The Handmaid’s Tale.” Plus the movies on HBO and Showtime I’d sneak to watch showing actors emulating sex acts didn’t show much screaming, torture, and blood letting when those hot guys mounted those ladies. More than anything, her absurd comment made me more curious and less trustful of her, because I knew she had just lied to me. But why would she?

Despite an astounding 80% out-of-wedlock rate, most black women are spectacularly ignorant about their bodies and how to give themselves sexual pleasure. The church tells us not to fornicate (and looks how well that command is working out) and that masturbation is almost as bad. But tel me this…why would God give us all those nerve endings in the clitoris–a nonessential organ for procreation but sure feels damn good if you pay it some attention–if he didn’t want ALL women to enjoy it? Either we are God’s perfect creation or we aren’t. And I’d like to think that God wouldn’t mandate that only SOMEONE ELSE can give me that pleasure, and the my own hands (or a vibrator) was somehow off limits to me.

To this day I’m still a little embarrassed to admit I enjoy some…good vibrations from time to time. But why the hell not? The Hubster isn’t always here to scratch that itch, and sometimes a girl’s just gotta scratch!

You know now that I think about it, what could be more sexually empowering for single black women than for them to literally take their pleasure into their own hands and not feel dependent on a man to solely fulfill those needs? And if you’ve chosen celibacy, a vibrator should be an absolute necessity!

By the way, I won that vibrator, and boy oh boy…;-)