on the pleasures of bloody, ordinary, and mundane things in liberation¹

This list is jointly written by Minjung Pai and Connie Ni Chiu on the unqualified pleasures and joys of being two women of color together, a list of musings on their bloody periods, nakedness, obedience, emotions, fights, cellulites, and ripening. Check out the footnotes should you need or want more context.

Nakedness. Bushiness. Hairiness.

Obedience to our bodies as disobedience of these systems

This one’s a bit of a mind-fuck, so get kinky with us: what is pleasure in the tension of obedience and disobedience? Who and what are we obeying or disobeying in our joys of being, our aliveness? Let’s get even kinkier and dream that we know nothing of the white and male gazes. Our fantasies obey our bodies when we are in whole alignment within ourselves, to ourselves. Obedience spoons consent like shelter as we touch the universe inside our bellies.

Whereas, in this current reality, disobedience is the pleasure, the resistance. For now, we consent to disobedience as loving ourselves into resistance. For every white and male gaze, we disobey. For every white and male gaze, we riot. We are the uprising of our lives, the resistance, the rebellion, the revolution.

We disobey.

Texts and calls that do not begin and end with be careful, stay safe, don’t watch the news right now

Remind ourselves that we are bound together by more than our misery and histories of oppression we did not birth.

Gatherings unconditioned and unconstrained

In rituals of grief, dance, drunkenness, we touch and hold each other close, without hesitation, risking only how immediately and deeply we will miss each other upon departure.

Being emotional

We value emotions. We understand in practice that our emotions give us messages our consciousness can’t yet comprehend. We trust our emotions. We process them so that we understand what our spirits are trying to tell us. And by doing this we are whole.

Periods, Menstrual-osity, PMS—Oh my!

First things first, we have the magic of period syncing sisterhood. We are indeed witches and bitches together.

Second, we have the power of painting an entire maximum, thick-ass, overnight pad-canvas with bloody uterine things shedding from our insides like confetti, and all without spilling as we slumber and dream. We are indeed powerful and lifegiving.

Third, we make sudden and 100% all-natural organic works of art through unexpected period stains like fiery moonrises. We are indeed artists.

Fourth, we PMS. In liberation, we don’t worry about being judged, misunderstood, too emotional, dismissed; we are not condescended at. Instead, we are embraced and cared for with tenderness. We celebrate our bodies in joy and awe—our full selves connected. Isn’t it amazing how our monthly bleeding, the life blood of humanity, shows up in our emotions, moods, and appetites too? It signals to us: your body is in its creation cycle. Be gentle.

We are indeed life creating art.

Platonic intimacy as the most sacred form of accountability

because “accountability at its best is an act of love.”² That when we cause harm, we are met with such generosity and tenderness in our accounting. There is no self-flagellation. You accounted for it, so we’re good. And future-dreaming of liberation endures.

Flirting

Flirting is not about trying to achieve sexual conquest. It is giving and receiving attention that makes us feel cute AF. It is fun, pleasure, and joy. Think 애교.

That a touch can be just a touch

That we never have to question whether this kindness or that gentleness is being weaponized to manipulate us. That authenticity and intimacy is a given. That we can trust in touch and being touched. That we are worthy and deserving of touch as simple skin kisses demanding nothing but our aliveness.

That consent is ours to gift

“No.”³

Work

Workplaces where we are not viewed only as labor. We are not treated as commodity, as disposable. Money and profit are not god. Interdependence and abundance are organizing principles. We are labor with love.

Letting white supremacist institutions fail

and feeling unmoved to save the institution from itself, to no longer martyr ourselves in changing something that refuses to change. To no longer compromise ourselves for white comfort and weaponized innocence. We simply sign off with: “Told ya so. My people’s gonna invoice you for the emotional, cognitive, and physical labor you’ve extracted. It’s payday, bitches!”

Sexuality & fantasies

We explore all our curiosities without fear. We experiment. Our fantasies won’t have the misogynist baggage of demeaning and degrading women. Without the reality of violence perpetrated on women, our fantasies are free and liberated. Sex can truly be about pleasure.⁴

Walking at night. Alone. Anything at night.

Laughter so orgasmic even our bodies can’t contain us

That we release in snorts, farts, and gasps of delight. Maybe even a little pee. These symphonies in our bodies tell us we’re alive and uncontainable.

Fights & conflicts

Fights and conflicts aren’t domination. This isn’t about silencing each other. We do not feel threatened. Fights and conflicts are about understanding each other even if we can’t find common ground. Common ground won’t be the objective.⁵ Fights and conflicts become natural forms of communication because we feel safe to disagree and challenge in public.⁶ And we use that initial point of disagreement as an opportunity to understand each other more fully.

Cellulite. Stretch marks. Scars. Marks of aliveness.

Ripening and wrinkling together as elders and ancestors

Speak nothing of the premature dying of our peoples from surviving hunger, genocide, dislocation, war, and weathering. Instead, speak only of our grandmothers’ pettiness, their realness misunderstood as rudeness by those who have not yet bloomed into every wrinkle deepening. Living histories, still here. See our nakedness when we ripen enough to give zero fucks cause we’re still here.

We’re still here, alive.

¹ Connie was cooking lunch on a regular weekday, nothing special or profound: “I found myself feeling resentful because I was cooking constantly for my partner, who is a man. But it’s also weird cause I love cooking and feeding people. The process and outcome is such a joy. As a totally flawless and mature human being (which I’m actually not), I decided to get curious about my resentment: If patriarchy doesn’t exist, would I still feel resentful that I am constantly cooking for my husband? Might this also be about shame? That my worth as a wife and woman is tied to my performance of cooking and feeding others? That’s it, isn’t it? I’m resentful of patriarchy cause, once again, it’s stealing my joy in the everyday, small, mundane things that I find purpose in. I can’t even have cooking! Then, I started to notice how so many of my simple joys and pleasures have to get qualified because of oppression. What else? How else is this showing up? What would unqualified joys and pleasures look like if not for patriarchy, white supremacy, heteronormativity, capitalism, colonialism, and so on. What other joys and pleasures are stolen and replaced with resentment, bitterness, or even shame? What else?” And with some soul syncing between Min and Connie, this list was birthed.

² Kazu Haga on Finding Our Way podcast

³ A complete sentence — adrienne maree brown

⁴ Pleasure as liberated from oppression, as no longer dictated by what it can or should be, what it can’t and shouldn’t be. Pleasure as ours.

⁵ When finding common ground is the sole objective, we experience resentment and further silencing and marginalization. What kind of forced compromises are demanded in finding common ground? What key learnings and deep understandings do we lose to common ground? What are we sheltering ourselves from when solely focused on common ground? So much harm has been done in the name of common ground.

⁶ The unqualified pleasure and joy of doing things in public, that justice is loving in public.