The Ever-Perplexing Paradox of Existence… and Coachella

 

I have just returned from Coachella. These are words I never imagined would dance upon my lips. But, life is funny like that, isn’t it? Things change. You change. Everything is changing.

 

I never once thought I would live in Los Angeles, either. Yet— here I am. I was always under the impression LA was full to the brim of soulless, shirtless narcissistic toolbags.  This notion was based merely on a hunch, having never actually spent much time there.

 

Since moving to LA, I can now confirm this rumor as truth. Though, there is, in fact, a lot of particularly cool shit here capable of elevating your dream life to the next level.

 

And to be quite honest, the same goes for Coachella. Trust me, I know what you’re thinking.  “Ew. What a basic fecking betch!” But I’ll be the first to admit that the infinite sea of poor sweatshop fashion choices tickled my gag reflexes.

 

I watched a woman eat a bag of chips with a fork. I nearly had an aneurysm from the infinite selfie captures. The monstrosity of litter left behind actually made me weep.

 

People were entitled as fuck. Someone eloquently told my girlfriend they were “gonna fuck [her] up” if she didn’t “get the fuck out of the way.” Stay classy, Coachella!

 

This is the type of shit one would expect from attending such an event, perhaps the greatest gathering of trust funds the world has ever seen. Yet, despite the next level of fuckery, no ‘bos were thrown.

 

What did fuck me up in the best of ways, was the overwhelming amount of women and people of color speaking their truth like absolute royalty. It was a strange and beautiful thing to see such diversity in what seemingly was the epicenter of white privilege.

 

In these bizarre times, it seems the empire has fallen. Basic bitches were de-throned. Those once forced to the back of the bus are now forerunners of a movement of empowerment, making and changing history right before our eyes.

 

Leading this crusade is no other than the Queen Bee herself, Beyonce. Yes, I said it. Judge me, hipsters. But- if you saw what I saw that spectacular Saturday night, you wouldn’t dare.

 

The drumline, the twirling, the twerking… the stank faces! Few things excite me more than a beautiful woman unafraid to look ugly. My southern belle-self was transported back to Mardi Gras and football season and I have never been so proud to be from Louisiana. Who dat?! Bee dat!

 

In addition to being utterly mesmerized, an unsolved mystery was decoded this night. I now know the source of Hurricane Katrina to be undoubtedly rooted in Beyonce’s wild and whirling luscious locks. I have never seen anything like it! I was blown away, literally!

 

But more importantly, the testament to black magic and power was of a caliber I have also never had the privilege to bear witness to. The most creative and talented people, all born with less privilege than I, simply because of the color of their skin, were on the biggest stage with an astronomical audience, owning their power more than most… more than any.

 

One would likely not expect this from a stereotypical event such as Coachella. But the thing about stereotypes is they begin to lose their power when the world is found to be more complex than the stereotype would suggest. And that simply is the joy of life. Everything is a paradox. Even Coachella.

 

Remember that, the next time you choose to spew hate towards something you may not understand. Because rarely are things exactly as we may think. Tap into your inner queen and ask, what would Beyonce do?

 

As the Queendom rises and tears drip from my cheeks, I am ecstatic to be a woman amongst these potent times. It is our duty as women, as people, to share our truth and empower ourselves and others. In moments of self-doubt and negative talk, look yourself in the mirror and repeat,  “I am the dragon breathing fire. Beautiful mane I’m the lion.” Now go, and release your roar! Don’t be afraid to get dirty, because “a little sweat ain’t never hurt nobody.”

 

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Pussy Power House: Why We Need More Events Like This

Recently I had the ultimate pleasure of attending Pussy Power House,  the vulvacious brain child of Corinne Loperfido–a sensuous haven where you are given a golden ticket to delve deep into the depths of your truest and most authentic sexy self…quite literally. Or shall, I say… cliterally! Yasss mama!

Upon entering, you must first journey through a labyrinth of sorts amid one of LA’s most kick-ass shops,  Pskaufman. There’s cool art, plants, tons of shoes, and even more beautiful people. Under the floorboards and around the corner, you arrive to a room full of all your dreams come true. Seriously. The smell of leather and cannabis tickle your nose. Pot Priestess, Lizzy Jeff, greets you with her radiant smile and a wondrous assortment of creations infused with love and 420 magic. Elixirs, herbal blends, tinctures. All the things. All delicious. At this point, you might be thinking, “Damn, that’s good. How could it get better?” But, don’t you fret sweetheart, it does.

Nearly every inch of the space is full of handmade art, all made by badass babes, all ready to take your pussy-powerdom to the next level. In the back corner, there is a gold mine of literature all dedicated to learning more about how amazing your vagina is and how wonderful it is to be a woman. You can pick up an instrument to play if you’re feeling in tune. You can learn how to make your own toothpaste and other apothecary goodies. You can sip tea out of cute little cups. You can get lost in a painting. I think I came and went cross-eyed from looking at one of Dana Peters’ pieces.  You can try on a magical kimono and get a hand massage. Curious as to what’s in the cards for your future? You can find out. There’s a lady there that can tell you such things. I mean it.

Personally, these things are all my most favorite. All of which, I generally have to seek out on their own, and sometimes have a difficult time doing so. But thanks to Pussy Power House, I have access to all of my beloveds in one charming place. There’s pussy. Weed. Chocolate. Music. Pussy Poppin. Art. Education. Activism. A strong sense of community. All under one roof. All for you. I mean, cum on… what more could you want?  The vibes are high, y’all. And most likely, so are you.

I have been blessed enough to attend many of Corinne’s events and they are all masterly curated. This queen knows what’s up in every sense of the term and wants to share that knowledge with those who are willing to listen and hungry to stay woke.  Despite these events being unique in their own way, there is always one common theme: empowerment. By attending these events, you are not only given the opportunity to educate yourself about your body, and soul, but you are exposed to other boss ass witches who are all on that same tip of loving themselves and wanting to cultivate that further. To be surrounded in a room of like-minded women, coming together to support one another and share their gifts is nothing short of magic.

Some of you may have the misconceived notion this is just some kind of lesbian gang bang where we all pull out our snatches and bash men. I may have a lady crush on every one of the featured artists, but it’s a misandry free zone. All are accepted here. And all are guaranteed to walk away feeling a little more in love with themselves. In these crazy, fucked up times we need this sense of unity and liberation more than ever. How often can you say you went out for a night on the town and left feeling better than when you arrived?  So, if you have the pleasure of attending one of these events sometime in the near future, do it. Treat yoself. You deserve it.

Viva la vulva!

Art by Alyssa Morang-Pavlock