Sovereign of My Own Body

Monday, August 19 2024, in Athens, Greece

Musik

I am reconciling with cis heterosexual men to reconnect with my sexual energy. I am beginning to feel. My vulva throbs with love, and still with fear. It whispers its story to my soul with every pulse; its truth laid bare, full of hopes and wounds. I knew that in its pulse lay strength. My beacon of existence returns the masculine energy I so desperately needed to carry me to new heights.

I looked at you, Dad; I looked at you, brothers, and at each of the men I allowed myself to be with. Until today, seven.

“Promise and promise until it’s time to enter; after entering, none of what was promised.” “If you marry virgin, I’ll stake your father’s balls and throw you the biggest wedding with your white princess dress.” “Remember to put on the lock, only I have the key, and I will give it to your husband on your wedding day.”

I could not freely allow myself to be penetrated. To be the prey of carnal desire. To be “the thing” reduced to a body, to be consumed, ejaculated on, and discarded. To feel dirty and regret having broken the lock, whose promise with my mother was, in reality, a pact of submission—to renounce my sovereignty, power, and freedom.

I stopped being the object they looked at in them—each of the women who entered my house. “You see that woman over there? That woman, I’m going to sleep with her. Never be like her.” Then to hug her, kiss her, and caress her right in front of me. Never imagining that I could be that naked woman, whose photo they took without consent while she was sleeping, only to later praise their manhood for having slept with yet another.

This is how the matter played out, between unconscious echoes of the female and male lineage that plunged my sexual energy into shadow. I was not silent, but I was captive—captive to fear, guilt, and shame.

With so much creativity, and having never learned to connect with what is sacred, my temple, my sanctuary, I began to touch myself compulsively. Only I could give myself pleasure. Shame and taboo had become my root and my seed, to the point that, as a little girl, I had to confess to the priest the times I touched myself. He had to know everything, so I would be further from hell, and so that the man who would fulfill his promise to penetrate me and never let me go would finally come into my life. To be a vehicle for another's pleasure and a reproducing machine. To stop being true to myself.

How much of this still runs through our veins, even for those of us who are the most open and least judgmental—but for the world, not for ourselves. Sexuality is still a taboo. The concept of a “body count” still exists. The limiting belief that there is only one way to love—between a man and a woman, and not between human and human—still persists. Sex is still reduced to the body, to orgasms as the sole purpose, or to never feeling it at all, like puppets. I don’t speak, I don’t feel, I don’t say what I want. I don’t look at my genitals, I don’t speak to them, I don’t touch them; I don’t decide whether I like it soft, hard, or slower; I don’t know myself.

Where does so much fear come from? Looking inside to look outside. Now I can say: now I see it. I honor their stories and claim my sacred right to do it differently. And my magical, sacred vulva throbs, throbs. Only I decide who goes out and who comes in. It is not a promise to another; it is my gift, my treasure, pulsing in rhythm with destiny.

Its purpose is to discover and find the meaning that gives life to my body. Where does it go? Sometimes its journey is to love, to heal open wounds, to open paths for me, to create, and to be my greatest source of energy, power, and freedom.

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Dear mommy. Magnificent vulva. How grand you are, precious!

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Loving you intensely,

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Lali.

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Here are some mantras to honor the strength, creative capacity, and sacred connection—both divine and natural—of your genitals. Allow yourself to look at yourself naked in the mirror, breathe slowly and deeply, and simply caress your genitals while repeating this mantra:

 

Humans with vulvas:

 

Source of life, sacred portal,

creative power in every beloved being.

Root of my essence, in you I trust,

from your infinite energy, I nourish and guide myself.

I reclaim my power, I heal my wound,

open to pleasure, to conscious sexuality,

and to life.

I admire and honor you, divine temple,

in you I find beauty, love, and destiny.

With gratitude and respect, I embrace myself fully.

To your sacred power, my being connects and awakens…

awakens in POWER.

I break the silence, my voice shines,

Without fear, guilt, or shame,

I express what my being deserves.

 

Humans with penises:

 

Pillar of life, sacred force,

the seed of the cosmos is held within you.

Bearer of power, creative energy,

in your vital essence, light is treasured.

I reclaim my power, I heal my being,

I leave the chains behind, willing to be reborn.

I release the masculinity that has limited me,

I embrace softness, transforming in love.

Conscious and balanced, pleasure flows,

in sacred unity, sexuality and BEING.