Coming soon: Eighth House Expedition
Why telling tender stories is the key to collective freedom
My deepest belief as a writer and storyteller is that stories shape our lives even more than they reflect them. So many beliefs about who we are and what’s possible in life are inherited from others, whether from our family and community of origin or the media landscape of our time. That means cultural taboos — those ideas and experiences we’re conditioned to see as shameful — live in the stories that go untold. That’s what inspired this Substack: a desire to host the conversations we have behind closed doors, and to bust the door open so others can overhear.
When I became a sex educator in 2016, I was thrilled to enter an industry where I could talk about sex and relationships in a manner true to lived experiences, rather than orchestrated for entertainment. In my teens and early twenties, my own romantic partnerships never felt fully safe or comfortable, and I couldn’t figure out why. After all, I had followed conventional wisdom like “no sex on the first date,” or the romantic comedy tropes like playing hard-to-get. Then I started working at a renowned feminist sex shop, where I learned I had serious deconditioning to do.
In taking the job, I’d been unconsciously seeking new frameworks for establishing an intimate exchange, as well as relationships I could point to and say, “I want to experience that.” In America’s famously Puritanical culture, sex and love are the ultimate taboo. By unpacking the toxic ideas I’d internalized, I was gradually able to release body shame, embrace my sensuality, address sexual trauma, attract more suitable partners, and let myself fall deeply in love. By teaching as I learned, I set myself free from implicit beliefs about being unworthy of pleasure and joy, and helped others to do the same.
Once I left the sex shop floor, I continued this journey as a reporter, advice columnist, and podcast host. I was eager to probe the wisdom of the collective about resisting dominant cultural narratives on sex and love, and making deeper and more authentic connections. This work revealed my talent for gently asking tough questions about shame, trauma, and other unmentionables. I still get a rush when a subject hits me with “Hmm, good question!” because it tells me I’ve asked about something they’re rarely given space to explore.
This is what you’ll find in the interviews, profiles, and essays in this Substack; not just on sex and love, but also loss, beauty, money, and more. No one ponders these topics more than my fellow working artists1, whose insights and experiences I’ll be centering here. I believe those of us who spend lots of time immersed in our own inner worlds, living on our own terms in a society that defines us with dollars, are best equipped to help us tell better stories about ourselves. I can’t wait to share their secrets.
Watch this space for new stories in the coming days and weeks.2 You can subscribe ahead of time to make sure you don’t miss out, and please drop by my website if you’d like to learn more about me and my work.
Let’s break some chains together.
I personally define the term “working artist” by a person’s output, rather than the income derived from their craft.
An earlier version of this post alluded to a “seasonal” release style, but upon reconsideration I’ll be sharing each story as I produce it.