blasphemous talk - Jelisa Gonzalez

When my dad appeared at my door, while his door is next to mine, and asked me if I was doing work, I lied. I lied because I had been watching porn while he was in the shower and/or in his room for the last 20 minutes. I told myself today that I was going to watch some porn, maybe I could educate myself on the ways to please a woman. I watched some videos with a woman sucking some unidentified man’s penis and I was distraught after clicking and watching three videos. I was aware that this is for people to be entertained with and to jack off to but damn I just didn’t feel anything. The one question swirling in my mind is how the fuck did these stunning women decided to do this. But immediately, the rose-tinted porn-skewed glasses shattered as I reminded myself that being a pornstar was their job. That’s how they pay the bills. That’s how they can afford to take hot showers. Once this realization hit once again, I continued but decided to watch lesbian videos where they suck each other's breasts off, just to imagine for myself how that would feel. Then in those moments, my own reality hits and I am reminded of my oddly shaped breasts and how if I were in one of those videos that I would spend the time not enjoying the video but rather judging and questioning why my breasts would look like that through my screen. 

I don’t like to perceive my body too much. From the times when I have to wipe my labia up towards my vulva and scrape the blood that makes it up to my mons pubis. I see my genitals in general as a chore to be tolerated, to be cleaned and wiped and to not be perceived or seen or judged by anyone but myself. I didn’t used to think my body image was as skewed as it is now but if I want to shave my pubic hairs atop my mons pubis I have to suck in the folds and move my skin up to a point where I can partially see where I can remove the hair. It's unfortunate really because there’s almost always blood that comes from the cysts on my vulva or close to my anus. Not that im exclusively religious in the most drastic capacity but when im writing these types of things which is rare, I feel god or jesus watching me and judging me saying something along the lines of “this is not why you want to become a writer” but to counter that I say why the fuck not? Why can’t I write about my genitals? Or my skewed body image issues that only come back when im in my passively judgmental home environment? Or the ways I wish I had longer hair that would grow faster. 

Jelisa has been writing for the Arch Literary Journal for about a year now. She's currently a combined student in the BA/MA program studying English. She enjoys writing poetry, reading fiction, and listening to music in her spare time. She is also a tutor at the Writing Center as well as a copy editor for the Albany Student Press.