Throughout my life, I’ve been a peddler of spicy goods: from being a hentai reuploader on Tumblr (reaching 40k followers), to becoming an NSFW artist, writer, and community builder reaching thousands of artists.
I’ve kept this side separate from my personal and professional life. Not out of shame, but because I believed it would lead to more trouble than worth.
And so it went: by day I was an editorial illustrator working at a policy think tank. I was excited for the things I ought to be. “Hyped” about new web technologies. “Happy” for new freelance clients. “Fortunate” to win illustration awards (change my mind, award shows are circle jerks and don’t take audience input into account). As the days blended together, I thought, “Is this it?”
At that point, I had been writing about the business of NSFW art, but never about sexuality—which I felt I had no real experience or authority on. Although I loved reading and talking about sex, I had internalized that I was an inexperienced loser with no right to discuss sex in any context but casual.
Whole bunch of beliefs to unpack :^)
It’s interesting because realizing that, my ‘wall’ between SFW professional and NSFW professional suddenly crumbled. Why not use my skills in art and writing to create sexual education resources? Why not use my curiosity to find interesting stories and break the cycle of silence on intimacy issues? I started studying sex educators like Justin Lehmiller, Emily Nagoski, and Hannah Witton to see how I could conduct myself professionally without being overbearing. Seeing others go through the journey was really helpful, and I started enjoying the freedom of accepting such an important part of myself.
That said, I want to acknowledge the doubts that come with the acceptance. Even now, I find myself thinking, “Who cares?” But that’s just the voice in my head that refuses to acknowledge that someone out there does need this. I was—am—that person, and that’s good enough for me to keep going. So yap my head off about horny stuff I shall.
In no particular order, some doubts:
I don’t have enough sexual experience
Is there an appropriate level of experience? What’s the balance between theory and doing? For example, if shame researcher Brené Brown had never felt shame, would that invalidate her research? Of course not!
That said, I’m not here to become a researcher. My interest lies in uncovering stories and experiences, and augmenting that with what the literature says.
There will undoubtedly be points where I do not have enough experience—like when I found out during my hoe phase that I wasn’t submissive, just anxious to ask for what I want. Well, now I know!
I’m not formally educated
Although I started BtwnB with mostly anecdotal writing, I quickly found that its considered unreliable and biased. As I learn more about becoming a sex educator, I can’t help but notice the conflict between sharing and science. Dr. Justin Lehmiller, who has published a sexuality textbook, says in his about: “Unlike most sexual advice websites, this is not a personal, opinion-based blog; [the goal is to] correct the numerous myths and misconceptions that actively harm our sexual health and well-being.”
How can I know if I’m contributing to those misconceptions? More importantly, should I let that stop me from doing this? For example, in my article on reclaiming pleasure, I talked about how porn had disconnected me from my body. However, the AASECT states that they can’t acknowledge porn addiction. On one hand, I can’t ignore my experience. On the other, it would be negligent to ignore the literature. And what if there’s a conflict? Do I choose one over the other?
But that’s also the interesting part about this field. Things aren’t as clear cut as math problems or computer science algorithms, which have correct and optimal solutions. Aside from pursuing further education, I’ll start backing claims and making it clear that my writing is exploratory, not prescriptive.
For now, I feel it’s worth it to continue and learn from mistakes, rather than stop in fear of fucking up.
How will this impact my career?
“You should share your porn on your art portfolio. Companies will like it, they’ll see your talent!” My best friend told me, for the umpteenth time. Though I wholeheartedly appreciate his enthusiasm, I also don’t know where it comes from. This man has told more people that I draw NSFW, than I have myself.
Many NSFW creatives refrain from mixing their spicy and professional work, wary of consequences to relationships and career. Talking to my life coach about it, she asked if I wanted to work with companies who rejected me on the basis of my sex education work. What did that say about their values? Would I want to work with them afterwards? Additionally, who are the sex educators I can look up to for inspiration, to see how they forged their path? Though I can worry about hypothetical consequences, it’s far more likely that things will go well if I study how others have thrived in this line of work.
Am I just being cringe?
“Man, you think about sex too much. Just get laid.” and so on.
Why not both?
Regardless of the insecurities and fears, the journey has been super fun—and important. My relationships with friends, family, and myself have grown since accepting my interest in sexuality. And if you’d like to talk about something, my inbox is always open.
📚 Beats Book Club
I’m currently reading Sex at Dawn. I remember it was recommended by a polygamy writer, but I didn’t expect to enjoy it so much. A fascinating look at the differences between cultural, historical, and natural lenses of sexuality, and how science isn’t always as unbiased as it makes itself out to be. Additionally, it’s tilting my scale from monogamy to non-monogamy/monogamish, especially after seeing examples of non-monogamy in nature, our history, and other cultures.
Speaking of, I’m working on an interview with fellow NSFW artist Ménage à Noir about their experience with polyamory. I found myself getting interested in consensual non-monogamy (CNM) after noting my openness to casual sex, while finding it rare to be emotionally attracted. More on that in the future!
🎨 Projects
It’s a mess, but I’m figuring out how to mix my professional and sex ed websites. One of my visions is to be open about what I do in all spheres, so I can fully incorporate my skillset whatever it is I’m doing.
I take a lot of inspiration from sex ed content creator Hannah Witton. She recently posted a photo of her together with some supporters. I would love to build a similar community, with people I can talk face-to-face with about their experiences.
That said, I’m puzzling through how much I want to mix things. Should I show my face like most sex educators do? Share BtwnB articles on my professional LinkedIn and Instagram? A lot of questions, but I’ll defer to my motto: Fuck around and find out.
Until the next Line Break!
