[Guest Blog] Gay Yearning: A Transatlantic Journey by Anaene Achinu

Today’s incredible guest post is by Anaene (she/her), a new contributor to Coffee & Kink. I’m so honoured to be sharing her brilliant and important story with you all.

Amy x

Gay Yearning: A Transatlantic Journey by Anaene Achinu

Queerness is expensive in Nigeria. 

If you can afford it, you wear it quietly. Your sexuality winds up as gossip fodder, playful but on the verge of vicious. A rumor that floats around in the air. And it will remain so, as long as you are not too loud about it. The more money you have, the louder you can be. Simple economics. Unfortunately, most people cannot afford this luxury good of self expression. They have their own class of options, but here are the three main ones; repression, activism, or visa. Perform heterosexuality, fight for your basic human rights to the point of near death, or fly away, far away, far, far, away. 

Your choice. 

My coming out is a complex yet simple affair. Western media has not addressed my own process, except maybe Hulu Original’s Shrill, where Fran, a queer Nigerian American, is out to her parents, but not fully accepted. Although pleasing to the sight, it is not my or many others reality. This is not their responsibility, because this is a nice start, but what can we say? I have friends who are out on the Internet, out to their friends, but not to their nuclear family. We certainly are not there yet. Some of us are too busy trying to survive the many isms that plague us; sexism, racism, tribalism. Oh, don’t forget poverty [ism]. Haha. 

But enough of the “woe is me.” Let me tell you the story of a woman who discovered the softness of women in three different continents. 

Our journey starts in Nigeria, in the heat of repression. High school was a breeding ground for the exploration of raging hormones and budding sexual identities, but my nose was mostly too buried in the Word of God to notice that perhaps my affinity towards certain girls at school was more than fondness, but crushes. Infatuation. It was easy to not dig deep, because I am unfortunately also attracted to men; the ensuing heartbreak took up most of my time. I had a tendency to magnify any slight attraction someone of the opposite sex would feel towards me. It was a combination of the usual glorified validation a teenager lends to “Mars”, and “fitting in”; wishfully believing that you are more conventional than your unidentifiable but present yearnings for something more yet familiar. 

This pattern followed me to England, where I slowly allowed myself to dream outside of hetero conventions, thanks to my very straight best friend, who accepted me for who I was before I even had a clue. She was the one that made me realize that perhaps I was not interested in marriage or child-breeding, but I was interested in a companionship similar to ours; soft, simple and beautiful. It took some time for me to realize I could have this outside the walls of friendship; slowly, my world expanded, and the yearning became more defined. A poignant example of this happened during a house party, where, from afar, I fell in love with a masculine woman. I followed her with my eyes all night, weirdly excited, until I discovered with pure disappointment that this was a mere cis man. 

What a shame. What a shame.

(Un)fortunately, I was unable to physically explore this side of me, but I made up for it in Nigeria. Not in numbers, but in quality. Though I never fell in love with these women, I fell in love with femininity. I was finally becoming, whatever that means. The softness, the generosity, the similarities and differences. The security, even in the dizzying madness of discovery. 

I entered the Nigerian workforce with few to no illusions. My colleagues could “manage” my UK-contracted atheism, but not my sexuality. I was not ready for the possible fetishization, ostracism, or even the gradual reduction of financial opportunity. It was not worth it. I carefully picked those I could disclose myself to, because it is very hard to keep your truth to yourself, especially in the honeymoon stage of it, when you are post-Eureka but it is not well worn yet. 

Thankfully, I found solace in the nightlife scene, where body grinding was non-discriminate. However, I did not have what it took to fully step up to a woman, to ask her to dance, to initiate anything. I once fell in love with a girl with golden braids. I danced with men throughout the night, but I could not get her out of my mind. I told her she was beautiful. She thanked me, hugged me. We exchanged social media. Then, I found out she had a boyfriend. 

Shrugs. 

Now here I am, in America, still coming out. I come out on dating apps, where I meet interesting women. I am still wary of work colleagues knowing my sexuality, but those I tell do not bat an eyelid. I am not deceived by the illusion though; the homophobia is still palpable. I was once subjected to listening to a horrible homophobic conversation between two people who clearly had nothing better to say on a train. It was so triggering. No one was a direct target in that exchange, thank goodness, but it was a stark reminder that rainbow colors on advertisements, magazine spreads, etc. do not mean full acceptance; it is still paraphernalia. Maybe one can feel more comfortable when it is normal, not “celebrated”. I mean, it should be celebrated. But maybe in a “this is normal” way, not a “we are still fighting for the right to breathe in front of our parents” way. 

That’s a conversation for another time. 

I have had moments where I wanted to come out fully, like Lena Waithe did on Master of None. But my mother is not Angela Bassett. My grandmother’s hearing, unlike hers, is very sharp and Catholic. And although this partial freedom can be uncomfortable, although I yearn for more, I am content with what I have.

Anaene Achinu is a New York based writer.

Travel Essentials for a Sexy Festive Season

The main thing I’m looking forward to over Christmas, apart from my mother’s cooking, is spending some quality time with Mr CK and having some hot filthy sex. We’ve both been sick lately – first me, then him, now me-again-but-still-him-a-little-bit-too. Combine this with the fact that my day job works me into the ground from early October to late December, and kinky fuckery has been thin on the ground lately!

In the spirit of the holidays – a time when lots of us are visiting or being visited by family – and also the fact that Mr and I will be going on an Actual Honest-to-Goddess Vacation in January, I thought I’d share some of my favourite sexy travel essentials and tips with you all.

These are things that are small enough to throw into an overnight bag or carry-on, easy to use discreetly… and not likely to raise any questions at airport security if that’s a thing you have to contend with.

Sample packs of lube

Lube is an absolute essential to me – I often don’t get wet enough to have intercourse comfortably without it, even when I’m really turned on, plus it’s a great shortcut in those “oh look, the family have all gone to the store, we have fifteen minutes” moments.

A large bottle is problematic when traveling, though. It’s bulky when you’ve got limited packing space, and frankly I’m always terrified it’s going to leak all over my clothes. Sample size packs are perfect – they’re tiny, light, don’t leak, and you can discreetly dispose of the packet at the end of playtime.

Grab yourself a Sliquid Lube Cube.

Small and discreet vibe

Alas, my Doxy is neither discreet enough for sneaky quiet fucks while staying in the family home, nor likely to get through airport security without raising some serious questions. I still want to be able to use a vibe while traveling, though, so the key is to take something small and not too loud.

I’ll be packing my We Vibe Tango and my Rocks Off Bamboo, for sure. Whatever vibe you’re taking with you, remember to travel-lock it or take the battery out while you’re on the move. And don’t forget to pack the charging cable!

Travel-friendly kink toys

The family home is not the place to crack out (see what I did there?) the 6 foot singletail. Things like floggers or even hand-spanking are probably out, too, if you’re sharing space in close quarters with people who don’t want to hear what you’re up to!

My favourite discretion-and-travel-friendly kink toys include a set of leather cuffs, nipple clamps, and the Evil Pain Stick.

(Disclaimer: I don’t promise your sub will be quiet when you use the latter on them.)

Some underwear that makes you feel really sexy

When it’s difficult to find the time or privacy to fuck or masturbate, but I want to remind myself that I’m a sexual being, wearing some really sexy underwear under my clothing helps me tap into my sensuality. When no-one else knows it’s there, it’s my private little sexy secret – all for me.

If a lover gets to see it hours later when I peel off my clothing, that’s a bonus. But the point of wearing it is just to feel good in my body.

You know what feels good to wear for you. For me, it’s my favourite knickers.

A small safer-sex kit

Mr and I are fluid bonded, so our safer sex kit is small, but we usually pack a few things – especially if there’s any chance at all that we’ll have the opportunity to hook up with anyone but each other. Your preferences will inevitably vary, but some condoms, some nitrile gloves and some dams, a pack of sterile wipes (for toy cleaning on the fly) and some alcohol gel are our essentials. Of course, if you’re on any kind of regular birth control, take that with you too!

Tweet me and tell me what your seasonal travel essentials are!

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