Maggie Goes To Jail

My friend Maggie Tapert in Switzerland who teaches women about orgasm and sexual pleasure very similar to how I've been doing has gone to jail. She was collecting women's old bras in Zurich's banking square and in spite of being told to stop she was determined to keep her word and finish the week. It's such a wonderful example of the heavy hand of the law when it comes to women's sexuality. I'm rooting for you Maggie. Read on:

What started as an amusing and playful effort to raise public interest in my passionate obsession - the female orgasm - has ended with an unexpected challenge. Within the next few weeks, I will serve my first jail term. Who would have thought that the Swiss justice system would feel the need to punish me so severely for the supposed "crime" of collecting used bras on the central square.

And let me tell you, this is turning out to be a fabulous opportunity to experience the transformational power of total feminine surrender!

For those of you who have been following my ORGASMOBILE adventure since the beginning of the year, the facts are clear. In March I started a collection drive to encourage women to contribute their used bras for the creation of a colorful, energy-packed, patchwork covering for the O-mobile. I showed up every Monday from 12 to 1 o'clock on the Paradeplatz, which is the central square in the heart of Zurich. All the banks have their offices on Paradeplatz: UBS, Credit Swiss and many of the smaller investment institutions that despite the recession are still in business. This is the ultimate power center of Zurich.

After the first week of bra collection, two policemen came by to kindly inform me that I needed a permit. Being a good citizen, the following day I made a trip to the police station to apply for a permit. I was told that I would never be issued a permit - not ever - under any circumstances because the Paradeplatz is a special situation. Only banks and the Salvation Army are permitted to collect on this square and only money may be solicited not bras. So I thanked them politely and went on my way. The following week, I went back and continued collecting. Same time, same place. There was just no question in my mind. I had announced publicly that I was collecting on Paradeplatz every Monday in March and I intended to fulfill the commitment that I had made to the female members of the population.

Needless to say, the police returned and this time they were not so nice. In fact they were mad, really mad. I mean smokin' mad. They had warned me they said and I had deliberately disobeyed their orders! I stood there meekly and watched while they summoned back-up to the crime scene via walkie-talkie. A group of four armed policemen in two cars were required to confiscate my cute red collection bin full of bras and haul me down to the station house. Just like in the movies, I was read my rights by one of the police officers, "You have the right to a lawyer, you have the right to remain silent, etc.". He was kind enough to remove his firearm and place it in his desk drawer before questioning me carefully and filing his report. His colleague sat at the opposite desk counting and documenting the colorful array of confiscated bras: 145 pieces for which I received a very proper written receipt. My little red collection bin stood forlornly in the corner as I left the office and empty-handed, headed home.

The following week, I continue my collection as planned. Through the gracious intercession of the chief of police Esther Maurer, I was granted a permit for the last Monday of the month but I was informed that the fine would not be cancelled.

Months rolled by and there was no further mention of the incident and I received nothing from the police department in the mail. I assumed that the court saw how idiotic this excessive use of police force had been and, to save face, were letting the matter quietly drop. Silly me - nothing could be further from the truth! This week the official paperwork finally arrived from the court, three months after my "crime" had been committed.

The court of the city of Zurich orders me to pay 854.- Swiss Francs in fines or spend five days in jail. The fine is out of the question for me at the moment - we do have a recession going on! Yesterday, I informed the court that I will not pay the fine but will instead take the five days behind bars.

Naturally one can't help noticing how the uncontrolled feminine energy of this act threatens to chip away at the system of control that the masculine force struggles to hold in place. But facing the reality of a week in jail, a whole lot of questions surfaced concerning my actions. If this joyful, female-focused, pleasure revolution refuses to be contained or restrained, is this actually something harmful to our society? If I passively resist the heavy-handed efforts of the police to control my activism, do I harm others? If I am self-directed and do not allow the police to dictate and delineate the boundaries of my actions, am I an outlaw?

There is no question that law and order are necessary to control chaotic and destructive forces that fester in our culture. Football hooligans, bomb-throwing terrorists, reckless-driving speed demons, rapists, even corrupt bond-traders and bank managers present a very real danger to our well-being. In most cases, we are shielded from these hazards by a police force that attempts to provide safety for its citizens. But a single woman collecting bras on the central square: is this an act that is harmful to the public? One wonders, is this something that requires an intervention by the police, and prosecution by judges and courts?

And yet there is a part of me that is excited to surrender to this next chapter of the story and allow the tale to come to completion. Go with the flow as it were. There is something in the on-going process that wants to teach me something. What if I do not resist? What if I do not defend myself or fight back? What if I accept that we live in this kind of system and I just say, "yes" to the consequences of my actions? There is an odd peace in allowing myself to flow along with the experience, even without any real understanding of where it will take me. Relaxing into the surrender feels erotically feminine and true. A part of myself is awakened and I trust the evolution of this experience. I am letting the flow carry me wherever I need to go.

I will keep you posted and let you know the details as they unfold. Isn't life an unexpected adventure?

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