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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons License. Yoni Ki Blog- A Project of South Asian Sisters

Yoni Ki Blog- A Project of South Asian Sisters

Thursday, November 17, 2005


The world can always be your playground
The world can so easily be your exotic resort
Flattery comes with a price
My brown skin accepts your flattery
Silenced by your ownership, your entitlement.

You will never own me.

My mouth speaks three and a half tongues
You can only swallow one
You've been around the world
gently, subtly colonizing
yellow, black, red, brown, and white pussies

Mine sometimes wet for you, but not to be yours.
My vagina is mine.
You try to occupy the space within
spreading me thin
and then you think i'll beg for what I can already do
with my own brown hands?

Thursday, October 27, 2005

Yoni Ki Baat: November 19, San Francisco!

South Asian Sisters proudly presents...
~~~~ YONI KI BAAT ~~~~
An all-new, completely original performance of South Asian Sisters' acclaimed 'Yoni ki Baat' (Talks of the Vagina) will feature all-new titillating monologues, drink specials, and a late-night after-party.
Saturday, November 19th, 2005 @ 8 PM
The Canvas Gallery, 1200 9th Ave (at Lincoln),
San Francisco, California
(Bart to the N Muni line, get off at 9th)
Tickets are $10 in advance, $15 at the door
Visit , or email for more info!
A portion of the proceeds will be donated to Asian Women's Shelter, a shelter program for battered Asian women and their children.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Yoni Ki Baat at UC Davis, 4/21!

Thursday April 21st 7pm
Wyatt Theater, UC Davis
*FREE* Event

--Part of Asian Pacific Culture Week--
CoSponsored by: South Asian Student
Organization & AWAAZ

A monologue-play that aims to end the silence that is common surrounding violence against women of all backgrounds.
Performed by South Asian Sisters.

For further information check out these links:

Tuesday, April 05, 2005

Yoni Ki Baat 2005 Call for Submissions!


Yoni Ki Baat Call for Submissions

We cannot put together a new show unless we have your submissions.
Don't be afraid -- just WRITE!


Yoni Ki Baat 2005

Vagina Talks, presented by
South Asian Sisters

That's right -- "Yoni ki Baat" is back for its third yoni-riffic year! We have confirmed that South Asian women are ready speak out about their bodies, their sexualities, and, yes, their yonis (yoni= vagina in Sanskrit)! This is an open call for our sisters to get creative and share any stories about their yonis, including topics such as, but not limited to:

* motherhood
* birth
* culture
* abuse
* menstruation
* smell
* hair
* genital mutilation
* orgasm
* pleasure
* masturbation
* sexual orientation
* rewriting stories
* reclaiming language (cunt, bitch, etc.)

Or, if you're stuck on what to write about, we've got some questions for you:

* What does your yoni enjoy most about being a south asian woman?
* How do you relate to women in our community?
* What is the most frustrating issue in south asian culture facing women today?
* Which Bollywood heroine/ hero does your yoni pine for or aspire to be?
* What language does your yoni speak?
* What Bollywood film would your yoni star in?
* What Bollywood song would your yoni sing?
* What is your yoni's bio-data/ matrimonial?
* What name does your yoni prefer to be called by?
* What is the immigration status of your yoni?
* What is your yoni's weapon?
* What does your yoni smell like?
* If your yoni could run for president, what would be the first item
on her agenda?
* If your yoni could say two words, what would they be?

Submissions will remain anonymous upon request and may be incorporated into our upcoming "Yoni Ki Baat" show in the Bay Area.

Please send any ideas, answers, poems, essays, stories, or musings -- we can't do the show unless we have your contributions! Your contributions create the mood and experience of the show, please share your voices with us!

Be on the lookout for more information about "Yoni Ki Baat" in the coming weeks.

Please send your submissions by April 30, 2005, to:


South Asian Sisters
1642 Fell Street
San Francisco, CA 94117

Monday, January 10, 2005

A Lingering Question

I have never understood the desire to own expensive lingerie. I can understand a person's desire to have her partner wear it, for it can surely look hot, but why would you want some for yourself? To "feel sexy" I suppose, but can't you just get stoned and stick your finger up your cunt for the same effect? It's always worked for me.

Perhaps it provides "better support." I could understand such a concept with respect to bras, but what kind of support does your pussy need? In my experience, anything other than 100% pure cotton from Target yields the most unsavory discharge.

Then, I understand there is this concept of "conspicuous consumption" where you buy shit just to show that you can, but how conspicuous would said undergarments be? If I ever do buy expensive lingerie, I will at least be sure to keep my shirt unbuttoned and wear a super-short skirt to display the distribution of my disposable income, because that is the only way anyone will ever see it. In the rare moment of passion I might find myself in, I am sure I will eagerly rip those articles off before they can even be seen.

A Civil Procedure

I broke two vibrators last year.

This is what happens when you're in law school. You can't focus, so you masturbate. Your focus trials get shorter and shorter, and your handling of the vibrator gets more and more reckless. Before you know it, it's been 48 hours, you've gone through eight packs of double-A batteries, and your vagina is numb as a mofo.

Civil Procedure was the most horrendously boring class of all. I never went to the class, because it was so boring, and because it was at 9am. So I would at least try to do the reading on my own. I would open up the book to the assignment and see "Rule 26: Discovery Procedures." My head would start to spin. OK, I need a break. I'd come back 15 minutes later, open the book again, and think, OK, this stuff is pretty heavy though. I should take off a full hour. One hour would turn into three, and before I knew it, I'd be headed out to grab some more batteries. (Lord Ganesha, remover of all obstacles, I thank thee for the 24-hour Safeway.)

You know how Ivan Pavlov did that experiment with the dog, where he'd ring the bell and give the dog food, ring the bell and give the dog food, until the dog began salivating upon hearing the bell? Well, I inadvertently used classical conditioning to make myself horny upon the sight of the Civil Procedure textbook. I am probably the only person who gets horny thinking about Civil Procedure.

One time I made the mistake of going to class. I got called on and had no idea what I was babbling about, but that wasn't the worst part. The true tragedy was the 35 Civil Procedure textbooks all around me in the hands of my peers. I didn't know what to do with myself. Should I start grinding on the chair? It was just too much of a tease, so going to class was no longer an option.


I've never quite understood the approach of the whole "abstinence only" camp. I do think people should be responsible and respectful with sexuality, and I would highly recommend completing puberty before broaching this arena, but I think that people in those horny formative years then require a reasonable alternative, such as comprehensive masturbation education. Since conservatives in particular blame and target girls for getting knocked up too quick, why not arm each girl with a pocket rocket as an entree into junior high?

For some reason, I think some people might find this even more threatening than girls screwing boys. Imagine if girls not only felt comfortable and validated in exploring their own bodies, but could get themselves off at the stroke of a wand in a way that dick simply never could. The thunderously powerful, reliable plastic might get them desensitized to the "kabhi haan, kabhi na" trials of the lingam, and then God forbid should they lose any incentive or interest in being the dutiful incubators of the church and the state, or realize that they could just as easily and pleasurably (and more safely!) toy it up with another chick. I suppose it's better from the perspective of some traditional jackasses to deprive scared, horny young girls of any information that might prevent them from saving their sexuality -- in its entirety -- for their lame-ass husbands.

Well, fuck that! I don't think it's a bad thing to encourage young peeps to exercise caution in exploring their sexualities, but this idea of "the safest sex is abstinence" can go fuck itself. I mean, it should be at least that creative. I come from the land of satyagraha, and I follow in that tradition of civil disobedience and self-reliance. It was at the age of three that I first began resisting attacks on young female sexual pleasure with my fingers firmly shoved up my cunt. In the absence of a partner that you can trust to respect you and your boundaries -- and hell, even in the presence of such a partner -- for God's sake, masturbate. I've never understood how some women can touch and lick other people's balls, dicks, pussies, asses, without first feeling comfortable touching their own. Make love to yourself. This, my friends, is a civil procedure.

Sunday, December 26, 2004


my yoni is buried in a nest
a beautiful spark of energy
buried deep within a twiggy strawlike
nest of hair
sometimes i destroy the nest, hack it away
watch it fall in clumps on an open newspaper
and then stare and experience
clean accessible sensation
until the nest reconstructs on its own

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

chilli v

Unlike my tongue, my yoni does not like spicy food. She discovered this not once, but twice. The first time she tasted Chile Rellenos, and the second time she tasted Goan fish curry. It all started on Valencia Street in San Francisco. I went to my boyfriend's house, and his roommate was making Chile Rellenos. He was using jalapenos instead of pablano chiles, so I knew it was going to be hot. My mouth started sallivating. We started eating in my boyfriend's room, and he took off his shirt. He was hot. My vagina started lubricating. I quickly stuffed my face with the remaining chile so I could satiate another hunger. But I wasn't the only one hungry. My boyfriend pulled off my jeans and underwear and started lapping up my yoni. First it felt good, but then it burned. I didn't know whether to keep going or stop. But then it really started to burn. I grabbed my boyfriend by the hair and flung him aside. I started jumping up and down. My boyfriend looked at my like I was crazy. Then he put it together. I ran in his bathroom and flushed out my vagina. I promised myself I would never experience that sensation again. But promises are broken. Eight years later I found myself in a cafe on the beach in Goa. I ate some of that really good Goan fish curry. It had coconuts and lots of chile. It reminded me of my grandmother's cooking, and I dropped the formalities of silverware and used my hands like I used to at home when I was a kid. I finished up my food and got ready to go relax on the beach. Then I remembered that I needed to change my tampon. I decided to go to the hotel next door since the sink area outside the bathroom looked really dirty. As I walked out, these leering pervert uncles started staring me down. They had just returned from the temple. I could tell from the vermillion on their foreheads, which only reminded me of the color between my legs that needed to quickly be contained. I glared at the uncles and ran to the hotel next door. "Where's the bathroom?" I asked the woman behind the desk.
"Go next door to hotel,"she told me.
"Don't you have one here?" I desperately asked.
"Sorry madam, you'll have to go to the hotel."
I had no choice. It was either go back inside or risk bleeding through my pants and/or risking toxic shock syndrome, so I went back inside. The uncles leered, I snarled and marched to the dirty smelly bathroom. As soon as I opened the door, I almost puked. This mofo had clearly not been cleaned for months. I didn't dare touch the faucet to wash my hands. I pulled down my pants and tugged at the string between my legs. The extra saturated tampon easily slipped out. I threw it in what I hoped was a trash receptacle. Then I opened my purse to find another tampon. Of course, I use the tampons without applicators, so I had to finger myself to get the tampon in. Hot shrimp curry fingers left burning sensations that were all too familiar. I quickly pulled up my pants, applied hand sanitizer to my curry and blood infused fingers, and ran into the beach, submerging myself to cool off. Needless to say, I was really happy to shower that night.