It shouldn't take a rape accusation to prove that sex workers can be raped | The Guardian →

Adult performer Stoya signed into her Twitter account on Saturday and, in two succinct Tweets, leveled rape accusations at her former boyfriend and one-time porn co-star, James Deen. “That thing where you log into the internet for a second and see people idolizing the guy who raped you as a feminist. That thing sucks,” she wrote. Just over 10 minutes later, she clarified: “James Deen held me down and fucked me while I said no, stop, used my safeword. I just can’t nod and smile when people bring him up anymore.”

The reaction was swift: since Saturday afternoon, the tweets went viral, engendering two supportive hashtags (#SolidaritywithStoya and#standwithStoya); porn outlets Kink.com and Evil Angel dropped Deen from their rosters; The Frisky ended Deen’s sex column; and two more porn performers, Tory Lux and Ashley Fires, came forward with their own stories of alleged abuse by Deen.

Stoya’s tweets and their quick entry into the news cycle hints at a larger cultural movement: that people are believing women, even sex workers, when they say they were raped.

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Your first grey hair shocks. Your first grey pubic hair makes you feel close to death | The Guardian →

What you do with the hair ‘down there’ is subject to so much political weight, even as ageism extends further south

The first time I saw one, I had to do a double-take. It happened around 4am, and I was a little drunk and very tired, sitting on the toilet to pee. I looked down. I thought, “What is that?” I looked down again.

There was no question: growing in my bush, buried in the middle of my pubic triangle was a white – not blonde – hair. I was 37. (Read more)

Blood lust: why period sex shouldn't be taboo in Hollywood or anywhere else | The Guardian →

The filmmakers cut the infamous ‘tampon scene’ from Fifty Shades of Grey without understanding why fans found it sexy instead of disgusting.

I am a big fan of period sex.

Part of my enjoyment is that I came of age in a place (Vermont, renowned for its woodsmen and its hippies) and a time (the late 70s and early 80s) that were conducive to being matter-of-fact about female bodies. The very first time I had sex during my period was on the floor of a nearly-empty college apartment with a guy I was dating; I had no idea that I had gotten my period while we were shagging. I went to the bathroom and, in the greenish cast of the fluorescent lights, I saw the blood. I thought it was pretty cool.

I walked out and told the guy. “Oh,” he said, looked down at his crotch, and offered me a beer. It was no big deal to him. (Read more)