Is It Time to Fuck Nice in the *** & Reclaim Your Wild Sacred Messy ‘Wrongness’, My Love?

aka How To Write Your Wrong...

How 'wrong' are you? Let's count the ways babes!

I'm feeling particularly fuck-it lately.

All the things I should be doing. All the ways I ought to be, erm, waying. All of the action steps I could be stepping into action upon.

And here I am, proposing a giant nah! to it all.

The thing is, in this day and age, we're supposed to be doing and being all the 'right' things. Thinking and saying all the correct things that means that we're a spiritually aligned, uber responsible, mature and reasonable adult.

Good God. Just writing that exhausts me!!!

Or maybe it's simply the revolutionary in me. The part of me that's standing up and, in my truth, more and more.

And that truth isn't necessarily 'right'.

In fact, often, it's downright ‘wrong’.

Wrong.

Proving and validating and snivelling our way into being a respectable member of the human race.

Well, I say fuck that! Fuck nice. Fuck being seen as right if we're brimming to boiling beneath the surface with all manner of wrongness.

Moral wrongness.

Ethical wrongness.

Political wrongness.

Ideological wrongness.

Societal wrongness.

Cultural wrongness.

Holding ourselves together with scotch tape that gags and blinds us and stops us gesticulating wildly and widely in our own pool of wrongness.

Honey, can you even breathe!?

How about we rip that Band Aid from your lips and let it all pour out.

The thing is, we're ashamed and embarrassed by being wrong. The faux pas and the fuck ups. We cringe inside and crumple our clarity with some kind of cosmic calculator of rightness.

We measure how good a person we are by the way others view us.

We fear being exiled or disapproved of if we dare or deign to do the wrong thing, say the wrong thing.

How might it be to embrace the parts we fear to expose to the world, to flash our proverbial knickers at life, so that we can lean into death’s boner and get truly turned on to be fucked open to life? With this comes the choice to stop being so fucking nice, to let ourselves be wrong, selfish, disapproved of, to call time on putting others before ourselves at the expense of our own needs, wants, desires, truth, so that we’re sucked dry of all our own life juice.

When we’re being who we really are ~ expressing, living, saying, doing ~ some folks don’t like it one iota! People get scared. It activates others’ fear of embracing death whilst being alive, and so the judgements come, the disapproval, the callings of you’re too much, too big, too wild, too messy, too wrong, and too, well, absolutely and completely, you!

Bah!

You never hear of a ‘nice’ girl changing society, do you?!

Being wrong is the primal animal of a woman. For ‘she’ is a beast. She’s not sugar and spice. She’s a violent blood-letting creature, an unreasonable dynamic spinning top of Kali-esque wrath. She’s ugly and merciless. She doesn’t sit with her legs crossed and her bellowed-breathed breasts all corseted into suffocation. She is hairy and dirty and stinks. She will destroy you, for all know that this is an essential part of being reborn anew, stronger and more potent.

Oh, and yes, woman is full of desire. Carnal and hungry and she’ll bite your head off and feed it to her young no problem.

Not nice at all I’d say!

For there lies your potency. And you wonder why they tried to burn us! We are the fire they lit the sticks upon. We are the water they held our faces under. We are the earth they cut, raped and pillaged our flesh and buried us without care. We are the air that our words, and witchery and spells and medicine prayers got stifled as they gutted our tongues and squeezed our throats into constriction and silence.

You are pure source-ery. It runs through your body as you magic life into existence and shit it out onto the ground. Undignified. Unkempt. Sweating. Swearing. Shrieking. Altered states from once woman and now animal god. Another form glimpsed for a moment of time. Before it’s all wrapped up, nappied up, neat and tidy once again into a perfect top-bun of rightness.

What might it be like if you fucked nice in the ass? To be fair, it would probably love it! It wants it! To be humiliated and mistreated as something worthless and pitiful. It doesn’t want power. It’s begging you to bend it over and savage it! But, hey, what do I know. Maybe it secretly holds all the power in the world. Maybe. But not if inside is a seething cauldron of resentment, anger, desire, envy, all squirming like worms in its gut.

Naughty and Nice. God it’s so boring. So binary. So, how can I say, vanilla darlings. As is often in many matters of humanness, we are so multivariate. Black or white, wrong or right, saint or sin, day or night.

So.

I have an invitation for you sweet cheeks.

Come and get your wrong out with me.

On Sunday 15th June. 2:30pm BST (UK Time). Online. ‘How To WRITE Your WRONG!’ This month’s Writing The Revolution writing workshop.

Open to anyone who has had enough of the bullshit of trying to be, do, get it right. Let’s face the shame together. Let’s blow raspberries at our embarrassment. And let’s super expose where we are most seriously and immaturely ‘wrong’ in how we think, feel and act.

Sounds bloody well good to me.

Let's spill the tea on all of what's really going on inside. The shocking revelations. The no more goody two shoes. The meanness. The laziness. The envy. The haughtiness. Let's have a party for inappropriateness.

Of course, that means being willing to look like a fool. To be foolish. To be seen as...

Well, what exactly!?

Seen as being honest? In integrity? As standing for what you really believe?!

The irony is, we're not right nor wrong. We're a whole goddamn complexity of conundrums.

We're a tease of temptations.

And we're a cacophony of conflict. Walking, talking, living, loving chaos.

It's called being human my love.

And it's in this ability to honour all these parts within us that sets us free. To breathe out. To sigh with relief. And, get this, to be felt as a trustworthy being.

There's an erotic tension in being able to bear the taut of our inner conflicts. To not fall to one side or the other as better or nice, acceptable or right.

None of us is right or wrong.

We simply are.

What do you think? Ready to say hell yes to your wrong babes?

Then, join me. And let’s fuck nice in the ass once and for all!

Aho X

“How To Write Your Wrong”

The fourth Writing The Revolution writing workshop is Sunday June 15th 2025 ~ At 2:30pm UK Time. Online. All welcome. (Recordings will be available if you cannot make it live)

To join:

Become a paid member of the creative revolution. When you choose a paid subscription to join Writing The Revolution (either monthly, annually or as a founding member (gawd I love you!)) you gain access to every monthly writing workshop PLUS monthly mentoring sessions too.

Here’s to your creative revolution X HH