Birth of a Diosa (storytime prose) 8.20.25
In the warm water of the belly,
a living being is formed in the perception of darkness.
The perception of darkness suggests there is no life, no space, no nothing. True darkness is the total absence of light and sound entirely, that of which is equivalent to death.
A body of possibilities bounce within the perception of darkness; one being that the hollowing is not in fact empty. Perhaps, while invisible and unannounced, there is life everywhere and we are full of several things at once all waiting in the queue of emergence.
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Last January my astrologer, fellow poet, T.C. Gardstein told me over Zoom I was in a gestation period. While I was not literally with child (super celibate for months) what I was pregnant with had just started production. It would not take recognizable shape until later this year. August, she said, it would begin to crown.
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August 15, 2025
Inside the rough unassuming mussel she shucks open a tiny sliver
With her bare hands she pushes up wedges her side body into the opening crevice with the strength of an unknown force.
She is not docile or callow.
She flops to the ground
wailing loudly upon escape or arrival,
for where she emerged she cannot re-enter
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In 2022 life was moderately less tense and being a hot girl was my full-time job. I met a woman at a broth cafe. It was literally called Broth, on 1st Ave. That particular day I was really in my hot girl bag wearing a white mini skirt with a white tank top I screenprinted declaring the totally true and accurate statement “I <3 simps.” Nike shocks, a Telfar mini and 2000s era Dior shield sunglasses completed my baddie uniform. I took a selfie.
It was on my morning walk when I decided to get myself a little treat. Living in the East Village does not make it financially feasible to have throwaway addictions like caffeine or matcha. An outside beverage has to be something worthwhile. Something I cannot make at home. Broth made sense.
As I approached the stand, a Latina woman peeked from behind the counter. Her long black hair slicked into a waterfall ponytail, her face, aging like a feline, wore a distinctly feminine resilience that comes from using what you have to get what you need.
Even though I could only see her from the chest up I could tell she was super thick. A tell tell sign for thick women is the width of their upper arms. When skinny girls get BBLs sometimes they’ll make a Tiktok complaining about their newly arrived arm fat post surgery. When you are made to hold weight in certain places, other parts of your body identify that.
The side profile of a thick woman’s arm tends to look like a succulent turkey leg. Delicious.
Upon contact, we had a girly back and forth and she peeped the vibe. We got high gassing each other up.
“You are a goddess, I can just tell” She said swaggering with expertise.
I extended gratitude and agreed,
“Period.”
We smiled and continued being cute. When my broth was ready she offered it to me with her Instagram handle.
“Diosa of love no spaces. I’m throwing a party uptown. I think you should come. Goddesses only” I took the broth and gave a smiley goodbye.
Diosaoflove. No spaces. I was seduced.
A sneaking undertone I felt in our interaction was that I was being recruited for something. When I got home and looked at her page I found out what it was.
Diosa of love was a full blown sex and fetish BBW. An entertainer. On her Instagram big booty women kissed other nearly nude big booty women. I scrolled. Whips, wigs, whipped cream. I scrolled. Old men smiled and spread their freakiness with women visibly older than me. I scrolled.
Wow.
Diosa of love was committed to the fantasy. Fear and denial bubbled into intrigue.
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The clamshell woman attempts to crawl out of the mollusk she birthed from.
She is outside herself now
alone in an iridescent and brutal new world
As a sex worker, changing one's name is as crucial for self-recreation as it is for protecting one’s government identity. An investigation of the old model determines what we wish to gain, lose or enhance with the creation of the new model. It starts with a name.
Usernames,
creative aliases, political aliases,
gender reinventions, even Cashapp handles offer an opportunity to be known as something else-- to affirm our internal knowledge-- to define who we are and what we want to respond as. Two years after meeting Diosa of Love I was prompted to rename myself with the purpose of concealing one part and leavening another.
Every dominatrix is allowed a two part name. One name is the personal name dommes refer to each other as and the other is your honorific, the name your slaves or subs refer to you as. Mistress, Goddess, Queen, Daddy, Empress, Princess, Madame these are all honorifics. Goddess resonated with me the most but there were already a million goddesses just as there were a million mistresses and a million madames. I threw it back to the memory of my freaky broth-tender. Diosa of love. Diosa of Broth..
She was the first to acknowledge my goddess so it felt appropriate to honor hers.
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Poem: She was blessed with the honorific
Diosa
Her bed shakes with the intensity of an earthquake
On a grand rising she pulsates with the enthusiasm of a puppy, heart beating out a rhythm so fast under the heaviness of shining jewelry, adornments, splatters of birthing fluid, dollar bills
from her popsicle toes up to her shaved sides Rhinestones, crystals and a soft teddy bear. Lightning struck the previous body she lay abode. She had a name but it was lost and in turn
recovered a new name,
a new body
a new iteration
She is not docile or callow.
She steadies herself this time pushing out a gleeful yell
from where she emerges she cannot re-enter Tadaa!
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A few days ago I checked for my deity online. Sadly, she deactivated her account. I scoured for evidence, enough to assure me Diosa was real and not a prophetic mirage. I found one image from the year we crossed paths posted by a beer bellied Black man wearing a fedora in his profile picture. The post reads:
Exotic entertainer/fetish pornstar @diosaoflove was enjoying herself posing for the cameraman at PipesWell’s 20 year anniversary BBW Boat Ride Yacht Event in NYC 7/16/22
What I see is Diosa of Love seated on the edge of a white cloth table in an intimate purple lit banquet space. Black fishnets on her legs, black vinyl thigh highs, a silver studded black bra and a honey yellow wig on her head, My goodness my goddess! The midwife to my fantasy in which I can only extend a thankful dedication. Real. Posed with one arm above her head, gazing down at the other caressing her crotch. Thank you Diosa. Diosa of love.
She spread her legs and gave birth.
