Two days ago, I was enjoying a sleepy, lazy morning in bed after an invigorating (but exhausting) conference in Washington, D.C. As I slowly came to consciousness, I admired the daylight peeking through my blinds and listened to the bubbling fountain in my apartment courtyard. I felt truly rested for the first time in almost a week. Basking in the morning glow, I reached across my bed to check the time on my phone.
“u get my cock so rock hard thank u baby xoxoxoxo” popped up on the screen, a tweet from a man who calls himself “Bob in Daytona Beach” and whose entire timeline is comprised of an odd amalgam of happy birthday salutations and tweets about his rock hard cock. And the most bizarre part? The tweet Bob in Daytona Beach responded to was about bread. Yes, bread.
Is Bob in Daytona Beach a bot, or is he real? The world may never know, but that’s not really the point. The point is that someone, somewhere took time to either send us a message personally, or create a bot account that targets people who talk about sex on the internet. (Or bread, apparently.)
Rock-hard-bread-dick-guy is not an anomaly or an outlier: he represents the huge swath of men who take it upon themselves to attempt to disrupt women’s lives and intrude on our joy. Women and non-binary folks are constantly harassed for simply existing: this is particularly true if you are a woman or non-binary person who is visible on the internet, and painfully true for sex bloggers and educators.
And the common denominator in this sex blogger and educator harassment? Cis men talking about their dicks. (Which is also the common denominator in a staggering amount of all harassment, let’s be real.)
About a year and a half ago, I added “sex educator” to my online dating profiles when I accepted an educator position at a feminist sex shop. I had just begun this blog at that time as well, but was much less open about it than I am now, and I was worried about misogynistic men finding my website and outing me.
What a difference two words can make. The messages started flooding in:
“You’re a sex educator? I bet you could teach me something I don’t know about my cock ;)”
“plz suck my dick baby, I bet you give the best head”
“Can you give me a masturbation lesson?”
And on. And on. And on.
Now, I get emails about dicks. I get mentions and direct messages on Twitter about dicks. I get comments and direct messages on Instagram about dicks. Men send me pictures of their dicks on all of these channels. And I’m not the only one – ask almost any sex blogger out there and they’ll sing you the same sad song.
There is an instant switch in men’s demeanor when I mention I’m a sex blogger. Whether it’s on Tinder or OKCupid, on Twitter, or in a bar or at a party, the reaction is usually the same. The questions I get are rarely respectful: I’m fine with people asking more about my blog, or about how I came to this work. Unfortunately, most men I share this information with immediately want to know how I can benefit them and their dicks.
Let me make this crystal clear: I do not care about your dick. I do not want to see it. I do not want to hear about it. It means nothing to me. I do not exist as a receptacle for dick, physically or virtually.
Formidable Femme exists because I wanted to create a space to talk about sex, queerness, depression, trauma, and sex toys on the internet. Formidable Femme does not exist for men to interrupt the space I carved out for myself and the space I enjoy with my fellow sex bloggers and friends.
Your unsolicited dick is not welcome here. Respect this.
I demand respect both online and offline because I deserve it. I deserve respect because I exist. Part of respecting me is allowing me to live freely without harassment.
If you are considering sending a message about your dick to anyone, sex blogger or educator or not, just don’t. I don’t care about your dick. Other people don’t care about your dick. And we never will.