Note from Roberta

Hi Eric,

Your recent column brought me back to 1972, when I was a sophomore in High School.  I was sitting in study hall one day located in the cafeteria with nothing to study but the crumbs leftover from lunch on a table that was never wiped cleaned.  Having nothing better fill my time, I decided to write a creative letter to a girlfriend of mine.  I remember writing about the dirty tables using many expletives (the worst of which was probably “shit”).  I also recall writing something to the affect that the “cottage cheese curds were starting a revolution against the pizza bun crumbs….”

I gave my masterpiece to a girlfriend that afternoon, who just happened to leave it on the bus after school.  Our male bus driver (who loathed free-spirited, female teenagers, yet who probably used images of us every time he jacked off) found my letter (of course I signed it!) and promptly turned it over to our High School Vice Principal.  Needless to say, our Vice Principal was the school’s main disciplinarian, and who just happened to be an ex-Marine.  He prided himself on being able to control the masses (aka students) through fear and intimidation—we, the students, were the enemy after all.

The next day I was summoned to his office only to be lectured on how I was suppose to be “as pure as snow on a mountain top.”  (Interestingly, he also interrogated me about my use of the term revolution.  What did I really mean??)  After threatening to call my parents, I meekly resigned myself to a couple of day’s detention.  Back then, having your parents called by the school would have been a fate worst than death.  Not from the fear of being grounded with no use of a telephone, but more because they would have been very disappointed in me.  Hence, my purity would have been stained.

Of course this whole experience coupled with the many mixed messages of the times pretty much stayed with me through my 17 years in a loveless and basically sexless marriage to my alcoholic high school sweetheart.  Although I did manage to produce two children whom I adore, I really didn’t come into my own until I divorced at age 37.  Once I found my freedom, I was able to explore my sexuality, and I began the process of peeling back and removing all the layers of other people’s sexual hang-ups and issues that had been projected into my mind, body and spirit.

It still continues to be a process, but it is a journey I now relish.  I have been to Hell and back.  I have confronted my shadow self in the darkness in order to integrate it into every aspect of my being as maiden, mother, and now crone.  Today, I dance under the full moon totally naked and exposed to God, human, and beast.  I love sex.  I love being sexual.  And more importantly, I am discovering and embracing my authentic self—emotionally, physically, and spiritually.

Unfortunately, finding partners who are sexually healthy psychologically continues to be a challenge. While men may be attracted to a mature and sexually confident woman, they often run and hide for cover when confronted with true intimacy for fear they too will have to confront their shadow selves in order to meet and embrace their authentic self.

Fondly,
Roberta