The first time I saw a porno mag I was probably in fourth grade. Sex was pretty invisible to me; I was still grossed out by seeing my parents kiss, I hadn’t yet hit puberty, and my crushes on older boys at my church involved fantasies of holding hands and listening to New Edition and Tevin Campbell. I had no interest in anything sweaty or naked, and wouldn’t have known what to do even if I had been interested.
When The Seattle Seahawks won the super bowl last Sunday, Fox News made a big deal about how it was the city’s first National Championship since the 1979 Super Sonics won the NBA finals. This didn’t sit well with members of the two-time (2003 and 2010) WNBA champs, The Seattle Storm. Lauren Jackson, three-time WNBA MVP and a member of both championship teams, called out the oversight on Twitter: “Minimalizing female achievement in sport… Again…”
Week Three Highlights
Then I remembered what Angela Jamison said about the practice: it’s always there. It’s there when you’re sick or sad or lonely, just like it’s there when you’re triumphant or jubilant. In that way, it’s kind of like a friend, like someone or something you commune with daily. I don’t know if it’s a comfort to you, but I suppose it’s a kind of touchstone, one thing in our lives that isn’t variable.
It’s hard to determine the level of change in my body from one day to the next. Change happens when you’re not looking, right? The way the moon rises, or the way a snail moves across a leaf. So things feel different from the inside—feet that are super-tight and in need of the little orange ball to stand on; hips that feel like something deep inside is moving, but I can’t be sure what it is—but what’s different? I can’t tell by looking, and I can’t see any difference.