Illustration by Rosena Fung.
It’s 11 a.m. and I can hear spanking. Somebody’s happy, I think to myself, then mentally pinpoint the floor (third), the bedroom (the sound designer’s), and the lover (his girlfriend). Curiosity quenched, I turn my mind back to writing. It’s morning at Hacienda Villa, and approximately 15 percent of the residents are fucking.
I’m a founding member of this sex-positive intentional community, established in 2014 and housed in a gut-renovated brownstone in Bushwick, Brooklyn. The building was bought and restored by an investor and benefactor of sex-positive culture who wishes to remain unidentified, and the community was co-founded by Kenneth Play, our resident sex educator. The Villa is currently home to 14 members in 14 private bedrooms ranging from $750 to $1750 a month, with six residents on the third floor, five on the second, and three on the first. Amenities include three bathrooms on the second and third floors and private bathrooms on the first, a hot tub gazebo in the backyard, the N.Y.C. holy grail (a washer/dryer), and someday, when construction finally ceases, a basement event space that will host sex-ed seminars and erotic art installations.
It’s 11 a.m. and I can hear spanking. Somebody’s happy, I think to myself, then mentally pinpoint the floor (third), the bedroom (the sound designer’s), and the lover (his girlfriend). Curiosity quenched, I turn my mind back to writing. It’s morning at Hacienda Villa, and approximately 15 percent of the residents are fucking.
I’m a founding member of this sex-positive intentional community, established in 2014 and housed in a gut-renovated brownstone in Bushwick, Brooklyn. The building was bought and restored by an investor and benefactor of sex-positive culture who wishes to remain unidentified, and the community was co-founded by Kenneth Play, our resident sex educator. The Villa is currently home to 14 members in 14 private bedrooms ranging from $750 to $1750 a month, with six residents on the third floor, five on the second, and three on the first. Amenities include three bathrooms on the second and third floors and private bathrooms on the first, a hot tub gazebo in the backyard, the N.Y.C. holy grail (a washer/dryer), and someday, when construction finally ceases, a basement event space that will host sex-ed seminars and erotic art installations.
While the Villa welcomes those who practice polyamorous lifestyles, we are not a “poly” house. As of this week, five of the 14 “Villans” are engaged in some form of polyamory. Everyone has a different arrangement, and their relationships change and evolve. The sound designer used to have two serious girlfriends, but one of them broke it off, and he’s remained with his other partner exclusively for the past few months. The social worker has one primary partner and two regular lovers who have partners of their own. The photographer is monogamous. The DJ is dating.
As for myself, the sex I’m having here is no more frequent than when I was dwelling in non-intentional railroad apartments, but the quality of the sex I’m having has improved remarkably, because living here is a permission slip and an education. Having a sexpert like Kenneth in-residence as house manager means I can go to him for advice on everything from compassionate communication to how to effectively use an njoy Pure Wand dildo.
We Villans share an interest in returning to a more tribal, village-dwelling way of life, without leaving N.Y.C. I’ve wanted to live in an intentional community since I first visited one in Ashland, OR, in 2008, but I didn’t think it was possible in this city. Since I don’t come from a particularly close-knit family, I have sought family everywhere, and this is the place where I’ve found it. Last winter was the first that I didn’t experience seasonal depression, and it was because of my roommates’ kindness on brutal February days. I know that if I’m sick, someone will get me medicine. If I’m crying, someone will hold me until it passes. I am called on to do the same for others, and I’m glad for it.
Living here is a balm for the deep shame and secrecy I’ve experienced surrounding sex in our culture. Since sex isn’t taboo at Hacienda Villa, nothing is. We can talk about politics. We can talk about love. We can talk about death. We can get spanked at 11 a.m. on a Tuesday and then breeze into the kitchen saying, “Good morning!” In that way, it is wilder than your average apartment, but that’s only because we’re not keeping our kinks secret. We want everyone here to have a great sex life—and for us, that begins right here at home.
This article originally appeared in the October/November print edition of BUST Magazine.
