HeyJaredYour Pleasure Matters
a digital sanctuary dedicated to exploring the erotic, offering embodied practices and somatic wisdom that invites readers to discover their own path to pleasure, desire, and sensual sovereignty.
- Indexed issues, last 90 days
- 6
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- Sep 24, 2026
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- Jul 14, 2026
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Your Pleasure Matters (opens the original)
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It has been 10 years since I started my break-up with the US. A decade ago, my hot-girl summer was disrupted by state sponsored murder of two Black men and the protests that followed. A lot of that summer feels like a blur, but I found myself in DC marching alongside thousands of other angry, tired, scared and politically helpless Black folks, begging a system that hated us to recognize that our lives mattered. <a class="image-link image2 is-viewable-img" href="https://substackcdn.com/image/fetc
Pleasure as a Compass (opens the original)
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In RLNDT, Bad Bunny opens with a call and response that he asks and answers himself: “Hola, ¿quién soy? No sé, se me olvidó./Hello, who am I? I don’t know, I forgot.”The title is an abbreviation of Rolandito, a reference to a famous missing child case in Puerto Rico. If you listen to/translate the lyrics the song isn’t really about one boy. It’s also about moving towards something and becoming lost in the pursuit.Today, I am listening to the song and thinking about how a much younger me went mis
We had freedom for a moment. (opens the original)
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Author’s Note: This is a writing from June 2020. The world was suffocating and liberating and confusing and full of grief. The pen was a beautiful, momentary escape from it all. This feels timely today. Enjoy.“The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. You trade in your sense for an act. You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask. There can’t be any large-scale revolution until there’s a personal revolution, on an
My Gender is God. (opens the original)
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I will not understand gender. The same way I refuse to understand class and race and beauty standards because they share a similar epistemic opacity. My gender is a sky daddy, omnipotent and make believe. It creates weather and gives prophets their voice. My gender is a part of a story that people tell to make meaning from grief, birth and pleasure. My gender is weaponized as a blessing and weaponized against seemingly immutable rights. I use she/her pronouns because my gender is a mother with t
All This Grief, In One Body (opens the original)
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I haven’t spent much time in churches but those few experiences have really shaped me. Most of my time spent sittig in a pew has been attending funerals and I can remember the screams. I remember women’s bodies draping on closing caskets, wailing, damn near fainting, and screaming out to some God in pain. And I remember the women who were holding it all together somehow, calling all that carrying on out as shameful. “Communal grieving offers something that we cannot get when we grieve by ourselv
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