Our Lady of Paralytic Bliss
As the patron saint of sex icons, my blessings are with the woman who grab their crotches. Whether they do it on poles for money, or they do it on poles for medals, or they do it on stage in front of millions while making powerful socio political statements.
This morning a video of me pole dancing was posted as a 'great response' to the complaints that the Super Bowl halftime show was inappropriate for kids. “Pole competitions have a ParaPole category. We have Pole athletes with missing limbs,” the post said. Proof that pole dancing is not sexual! The post also said that the best defense against ignorance is education. So, it seems that it is time for some education.
Yes. It is true. As a disabled person with a vagina, my vagina is magic. I pole dance for angels. I can render an entire sport full of neutral, unsexual, child-like innocence by the power of my paralyzed vagina alone. I can do and express sexual things without attracting society’s wrath. And that is walking on water level of miracle.
I have ascended to a higher sexual plane. One in which mere sensory nerve function is finally understood to be more of a limit than a gift. On earth, there is much fear and self-loathing. You loathe your bodies and the bodies of others, you loathe and you envy them and are capable of such frothing wrath, as if you believe vaginas shoot knives at children whenever a woman (especially if she’s a woman of colour) gets too happy, takes up space, has a body in public, and accomplished stuff for herself.
From my transcendent perspective of paralytic bliss I want you to know that desexualizing women in order to legitimize a sport and/or to oversimplify and whitewash feminism is a pyrrhic battle. You might win, but then you lose. May the power of my magic vagina pour it’s orgasmic blessings upon you. May you be full of your own sex, may you take up space and accomplish things on your own terms and be impervious to the senseless foamy wrath frothing among you.