In the vast north, we are careening towards the longest night of the year. The last weeks and days before the solstice seem to accelerate, much like the last moments of an eclipse, that sickle of light, shrinking into nothingness, and then revealing itself, growing stronger again. The end of the calendar, the bright, bitter cold days and the inky nights, always make me pensive. It’s a time of year to take stock, to release the past, process the present and plan for the future.
Blog planning is, not surprisingly, hard work. I don’t know that my way is the best way at all or even a very good way. I concern myself more with what I want to explore and write about than what is trendy or popular and I continue to hold myself accountable to writing what hurts and what scares me as readily as what is simply sexy or pleasantly distracting. This blog and brand are both rooted so deeply in catharsis and experimentation that there doesn’t seem to be another approach that would be both entertaining for you to read and soul-satisfying for me to write. And so I continue.
Recently I was asked about how Violet Fawkes came to be and if she is an alter-ego; how much does she overlap with the me that the vanilla world sees? I don’t see Violet as a separate character, in fact, she is more me than the vanilla version of me. Violet is much more representative of the core of me than I feel I can safely express in the “real world”. If you know me via this blog, then you are getting a fairly complete experience of knowing me, what I believe in and the work that I produce. It is strange though, to remain shrouded in secrecy, and if I think on it too long, I’ll be angered by the narrowness of so many minds and the puritanism of our culture that precludes us (especially women) from expressing our sexuality in any way that doesn’t directly serve the male gaze. Perhaps 2020 will be the year that I have the courage to put my legal name and face to the VF brand.
I have moments where I think, “What am I afraid of?” and I’m not wholly sure how to answer myself. I admit that it is an unnamed shame that keeps me from revealing myself, or speaking openly about the kind of writing I do with people outside of the NSFW Writing Community. I don’t know yet what that shame is about or where it comes from, but I’m desperate to find it, name it and undo it. Shame is such a huge shackle, a crushing yoke that keeps us small and quiet. No one wants to live in fear, but so many of us do. Fear of what? Who knows! Sex shame and fear are so insidious and so ingrained that even discovering that we are feeling shame or fighting shame can be enough to shut us down or send us spiralling, Sadly, we don’t have accepted processes or methods for combating shame because it’s been naturalised. In fact, it can be considered shameful to fight your shame – it can be perceived as self indulgent, extreme, disruptive and uncomfortable to those around us. I don’t feel ashamed of my proclivities or the topics I discuss here. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with kink or BDSM or sex and sexuality being a fulfilling part of everyday life, I’m just not personally ready to navigate the criticism, the unspoken judgement or the inane questions that come with living out loud when you are a sex blogger and certified passionate pervert.
Do you share your whole self in your blogging? Why or why not? I’m endlessly curious about the implications and freedoms that come with embracing your sex blogging persona and fully disclosing this sort of work. Feel free to add your thoughts in the comments below.
I really, really want to stop living this double life. As I said, perhaps next year is the year that I take the leap. We shall see, but for now, for December, there’s much more thinking to do.