So, let’s talk about sex.
Too crass? Well, that’s today’s subject at hand so…let’s chat.
Are you into BDSM? Are you a bottom or a top? Vers? Into spanking? Or fisting? Do you like ass play, choking, biting, or pegging? What’s your safe word? I mean, I really can go on and on…with the help of Google.
Now, I can admit that I am no expert. Experienced, yes, but no, I’m no expert in the vast array of terms, positions, kinks, clubs, etc. Do I love sex? Oh yes, especially good sex—and particularly GREAT sex (thought I should be specific). Am I cool with talking about it? Of course. Grab a bottle and spill the tea, boo! But for some, sex can be a sensitive subject.
Whether it makes them uncomfortable, goes against their moral values or it’s faux pas, sex is just something some people don’t talk about. It’s no hidden secret that conversations around sex or female sexuality is often stigmatized and that stigma spans across gender, cultures and races. And this stigmatization holds especially true in minority communities.
Our artist is trying to alleviate this and create safe spaces where POC, specifically black and African Americans can talk about sex without shame. Her movement, Pro Hoe, celebrates sexuality and helps people live their best lives sexually. She says, “Pro Hoe is to defy those [societal] constructs [around sex], break those constructs down, whether it’s religious, cultural or societal shame, and really living out your best sexual desires & learning about yourself along the way when having those sexual experiences”.
Get familiar with Penda N’diaye, freelance writer, podcast host and founder of Pro Hoe.
N’diaye grew up in Denver, CO and moved to NY in 2007 to attend Tisch School of the Arts to pursue dance. From there, she went on to dance professionally for two renowned dance companies: Kyle Abraham and Bill T. Jones/ Arnie Zane Company. Language and storytelling have always been part of her journey, whether it’s dancing on stage and using her body to express herself or writing, her way of connecting with people has always been through shared experiences. She uses her art as a medium to connect people who have different values, experiences and viewpoints.
N’diaye has always been comfortable talking about sex. In her words, “It’s just always been something that I’ve been really passionate speaking about.” When her mom gave her her first vibrator jokingly it created an opportunity for them to really have a conversation about sex—how her mom wished she talked to her kids about sex at a younger age, and how there’s a lack of intergenerational dialogue, particularly in communities of color.
This led our artist to really consider what sex is, what her idea of romance is, and what a healthy relationship looks like. In turn, she was inspired to write about it, stating, “If I am really open about my sexual experiences, maybe that will encourage other people to speak freely on their own experiences.” She just launched her Pro Hoe podcast and had a successful launch event, the first edition of her monthly Pro Hoe Salon, which will foster healthy conversations on the sexual liberties of POC featuring certified doctors that will provide the best clinical sex info.
We discuss what Pro Hoe means to her, BDSM no-no’s (if any), stereotypes she’s faced, and what the world would look like if women led porn.
So your mom gave you your first sex toy. Was that at all awkward based on your religious upbringing?
Um, you know, it’s interesting because when my mom gave me my first vibrator my dad had already passed away. My dad’s Senegalese and was a practicing Muslim and my mom used to be a devout Baptist but now is Buddhist, but they never forced any kind of religion on us. They were never like you must do this or if you have sex then you are bad and are going to hell. I am grateful that I grew up in a blended family—that there was an understanding that there is a God, but we don’t want our children to be forced into any type of religious sect. But I think if my dad was alive and he knew I was writing about this kind of content (laughs) um…he definitely wouldn’t be comfortable with it. And I don’t know if that has to do with religion or if it has to do with being a father, but yea ha!
What does ‘Pro Hoe’ mean to you? What inspired you to start your blog?
I was inspired to start my blog because I wanted to create a safe space where POC, specifically black and African Americans can talk about sex without shame. Pro Hoe to me means really just being as I know: liberated. It means being able to act out your sexual desires and impulses without fear of judgement. And I think for particularly black and brown people, we have so much trauma built around what is normative, whether that means you don’t want to be dominant or submissive, or if you want to have a polyamorous relationship, or are homosexual, you just have an alternative view of what society has deemed a healthy or normal sex life. Pro Hoe is to defy those constructs, break those constructs down, whether it’s religious, cultural or societal shame, and really living out your best sexual desires & learning about yourself along the way when having those sexual experiences.
Based on your writings, you consider yourself to be submissive. Most people have a misunderstanding of the term submissive. In your words, what is it to be a sub, as opposed to its counterpart dom?
You know, I think that the more I’ve explored it, I don’t know that I’m exactly a sub. I think I am more a ‘power sub’ for sure. I like being submissive, I take pleasure in pleasuring my partner. And I think that that’s where I really get off with pleasing my partner and knowing that they are satisfied. So, I think that is really kind of where I see the submissiveness. But then I also have the ability to ask for what I want and I know what desires I possess so finding that balance of like okay, I’m submissive in being the vessel to you feeling really great, but then also having worked up enough courage and working through a lot of my own shame, I ask for what I want sexually, knowing that it’s okay to ask for those things. So not completely submissive, and not dom where you basically are running the show throughout.
In your identity piece in Vice, you write, “BDSM allows you to play with racism, sexism and classism.” Are there clear lines people don’t cross, or is it more of a personal thing? Like, if someone wanted to play plantation owner and slave, and this is my example lol, is that a universal hard pass?
No, I think it’s all about creating your own boundaries for yourself. I mean, I particularly would not participate in that kind of behavior (laughs) yea, that’s not really what gets me off. But, I mean I understand if that communication is established before and if that’s what you want to do, then yea. You know, we see these kinds of scenarios played out in porn, and I was actually reading an article that spoke on why we are attracted to porn scenarios that are really not socially acceptable in any other real life instance. Like, is it appropriate for the dad and the nanny to have sex: no. But why do we get off by watching those kinds of scenarios play out? Or even scenes in porn where it’s a step sister and stepbrother, in real life you’d be like absolutely not, but for some instances in porn they’re like ‘Oh, I’m really turned on!’ (laughs). So, like for BDSM, with classism or sexism, I think what’s special, what’s beautiful about it is that you can become another person. I mean at any type of sexual instance, you can become whoever you want, but I think with BDSM you really can play with power play. As an entrepreneur, I’ve always had to lead and speak up for myself, so in sexual instances, I think it’s really playful to be a sub where I can take it easy and not be the person controlling the situation.
Regarding your own sexual experiences, what are some stereotypes you’ve faced with sexual partners?
I think for a black woman, a lot of times in general, and from speaking from my experience and from other women I have spoken to, is that we are dominant or aggressive. I think that’s always something that is prevalent in the conversation with black women. I think it goes back to obviously like racism in history and in the hypersexuality of black women’s bodies.
So I think there is always an assumption that I want it rough, or I want it hard, that those are things that my body can take or whatever—I am never viewed as being supple or soft or sensitive. I think it’s always kind of like ‘Oh, she wants my dick hard or let me slap her’, or I get a lot of like ‘Do you like this bitch? Say daddy’, and I’m like ‘Woah.’ I mean (laughs) I like this sometimes, you know, but it just depends. Sometimes I want to have a nice massage, to be caressed, or maybe get my feet licked or whatever (laughs). I also think that since I am almost 6ft tall, guys have this feeling like I want to be conquered, which is not true at all.
Do you believe the stereotypes surrounding women and sex go far beyond race—that it speaks more so to that of an unfair, patriarchal bias?
Yea, definitely. I think a lot of it comes down to ownership and misogyny and particularly white men’s want to have ownership of women’s bodies. I think for a number of reasons that black women have been subjected to this more so; going back to slavery and being raped, etc. But I think in general with women it does boil down to patriarchy, what men’s ideals of beauty are and how women fit into those standards.
If women were the ones leading the porn industry (i.e. directing, producing, writing, etc.), how do you think society would approach sex, both in discussion and portrayal?
That’s a really good question. Well, for one, there would definitely be much better lighting on sets and a better POV (laughs). I think if women led the porn industry, it would break some of those stereotypes, shed light on more nuanced ideas of sexuality and show a wider range of spectrum between what is to be straight, what is to be gay, what is it between gender fluidity, etc. I think it would broaden our ideas on what sex is. Sex doesn’t have to be penetrative, you know. We would have way more categories in like lesbian, interracial, black, and BBW porn, etc. It would be just so much more broad in the way that we express ourselves sexually. And I think in turn that conversation would (hopefully) lead to a more dynamic society that wasn’t so closed minded, and didn’t think in such binary terms of men/women, male/female, sub/dom—realizing that there is so much more in between. So, essentially creating an environment where there is less stigma because women understand that there’s more that exists in sex than what men have portrayed in porn. Our ideas of sex would expand tenfold because it would just include so much more ideas around pleasure.
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Interview by Rahel Tekle