sal·va·tion
/salˈvāSH(ə)n/
noun
preservation or deliverance from harm, ruin, or loss.
It feels trite (and a bit overstated), to announce we live in unprecedented times. There’s a solid argument that every generation since the first lived through unprecedented times because despite what the old adage states, history does not repeat itself, at least not in the way we presume. And luckily we have history—the scrolls and films and art and archives to glance over the shoulders of time and draw connections to, as well as map out the differences. Being preoccupied with our existence is the most human thing about us, and that obsession, that fervent need to know about our species and every species and all the other things has led us to both miraculous and nefarious places and discoveries. Imperfection is kind of our thing, and as I remark on the last few years of humanity, those imperfections seem glaringly obvious.
There’s been war, famine, pestilence and conquest, true four horsemen of the apocalypse shit. And those aren’t novel by any means, but as I grow and develop both in my personal politic and knowledge of the world, I can acknowledge that these things which I’ve arguably been living through my entire life continue to feel different as I age. They’ve assumed an alternative meaning. It’s like putting on your old tracksuit from high school: they’re the same clothes, but the drape is so strange it may as well be new. Watching large populations as well as yourself be used in the geopolitical games of White cisheteropatriachy and capitalism feels more mocking all the time, like the monster doesn’t even bother to sharpen his teeth outside of your eyesight anymore because there’s no secret who will be consumed. The point is… the older I get, the harder it is to find abstract hope in a calculating and cruel world.
There are no saviors, no benevolent Gods or aliens coming to rescue the masses. It’s just us: imperfect, constantly seeking humanity cannibalizing each other. And considering my life’s history and work, the place that self-injurious action plagues me most, is sex. Sex gets THE bad rap. I feel confident saying that, as both a former Sex Worker and current sex educator of close to 10 years, I’m the first to offer the reality that we live in a hyper sexual yet sex negative world. (The fact that I’m having to debunk junk science about porn addiction on TikTok in 2022 is proof of that). Sex as I frequently put it, is the canary in the coal mine.
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