A blog about blindness, sexuality, and living fully in a body and mind worth celebrating.
This blog is my corner of the internet—a space where I get to show up whole. I write from the academic to the personal, from lived experience to professional insight, always with the goal of unpacking shame, challenging stigma, and making room for pleasure, pride, curiosity, and connection.
I’m blind with retinitis pigmentosa, a degenerative eye condition that affects peripheral and night vision. I see through a narrow tunnel of central vision, surrounded by what looks like flashing or sparkling lights. Over time, this has changed not just how I navigate the world, but how I interpret it. When the details are blurred or distorted, your brain fills in the blanks. Mine often fills them in with vulvas, penises, and other suggestive shapes. I don’t always see things as they are—I see them as delightfully erotic versions of themselves.
My friend and longtime colleague Bobbi Pompey noticed how my vision seemed to translate almost everything in the world into something whimsically inappropriate or erotic. She coined the term Sexitis Pigmentosa to describe this very specific way of seeing. That Christmas tree you posted without an image description? Looked like a sparkly green sex toy, to me. That flower photo with bright pink and orange petals? Total vulva vibes. This is why image descriptions matter.
And so, Sexitis Pigmentosa became the name of this blog—not just because it’s funny (though it is), but because it reflects me: the way I move through the world, the lens through which I experience and interpret everything around me. It’s a way of honoring the sensory, intellectual, and erotic curiosity that has shaped my life—not in spite of blindness, but alongside it, and often because of it.
I also live with chronic illness, depression, and sensory processing experiences that affect how I navigate the world. I live with psoriatic arthritis, an autoimmune condition that causes joint pain and skin inflammation; and lichen sclerosus, a painful skin condition that affects the genitals and can, over time, erode tissue, reduce sensitivity, and impact sexual pleasure. I also live with sexually transmitted infections including human papillomavirus (HPV) and herpes simplex virus (HSV). These are part of my real, lived body—and I talk about them openly, especially how they intersect with blindness and sexuality. Not to overshare, but to push back on silence and shame, and to honor the full complexity of disabled, sexual lives.
I’m a white, queer, neurodivergent, polyamorous woman and mother. Researching and learning about sex and sexuality has been a special interest of mine since I was very young. I came to studying and understanding blindness later in life, and the intersection of the two has led to a lifetime of exploration—both personal and professional. I’m now a public health and sexual health professional, a coach, a community educator, a researcher, a survivor, a speaker, and a sex-positive troublemaker. I also grew up in East Africa before the internet, in what I often call an information desert when it came to sex, bodies, and disability. That early scarcity shaped my drive to create spaces where people can ask honest questions, unlearn what harms them, and find new language for their own truths.
This blog is for anyone ready to explore access, sexuality, disability, pride, consent, parenting, and possibility. Whether you’re blind, disabled, curious, questioning, or just looking for conversations that hold space for joy, nuance, and real-life bodies—you’re in the right place.
Expect personal stories, professional insights, playful commentary, and thoughtful explorations of where it all overlaps.
I also offer coaching, consulting, facilitation, and training rooted in disability justice and sexual health—for individuals, educators, healthcare providers, and organizations. This blog is just one way I show up in the world—and I’m so glad you’re here. Let’s stay in conversation.
This piece was written by me, with the support of AI tools to shape language and structure. The voice, direction, and lived experience are entirely my own.