The Ballad of Jan: An #SFS17 Story in Three Vignettes 1


Gather ’round, kids, and get comfy. For this story about to unfold is filled with confusing happenstance, odd twists and turns, seemingly insurmountable odds, and above all, getting shit done.

The Hero We Didn’t Ask For: A Random Man

Pictured: Not Jan. But also, Jan.

It all began with a random man on the internet, or so the legends say. No one knows for sure who the first Jan was, but we do know that many became aware of her existence when a random internet man began quote tweeting several attendees to the Woodhull Sexual Freedom Summit of 2017. He called each person “Jan”, regardless of their actual name, telling them he loved them, and asking each to text or call him – even putting his phone number in the tweet. Red Hot Suz was unknowingly dubbed Jan months before the conference, with Formidable Femme, Girly Juice, and yours truly also named Jan by him. At one point, he professed his love for the Woodhull Twitter account, also naming it Jan.

Now, it’s important to note that English did not appear to be this guy’s first language, so naturally, we wondered if Jan meant something else. A quick Google search turned up that “jaan” appeared to be a term of endearment in Hindi, like “beloved” and “love of my life”. But with all these people (and an entire non-profit organization) being “Jan”, we took it to mean that this was our name. All of us. We were all Jan now. And if we were all Jan, then Jan was a badass.

Pizza from the Stars: Jan Gets Shit Done

Yes, Jan.

Having become aware that we were all Jan, and that Jan was a badass, was only the beginning. Badasses get shit done, so Jan had some shit to do. After the Red Hot Suz and Dangerous Lilly’s Meet and Greet, the leftovers were brought up to the Blogger Lounge. Since the hotel needed to lock up early, the pizza was left behind and locked in. It was a mission for Jan. Artemisia, Erika, and I went up to the lounge floor to see if we could still get into the room somehow. Every door was locked to the Blogger Lounge, even the door to the lounge from another ballroom that was mysteriously left open. Jan had to get this shit done, so I went to the lobby phone on the lounge floor and picked up the receiver to call down to the front desk for help.

“Hello, this is Jan. I’m on the 16th floor, and we’ve left something very important in the Stars Ballroom, which is now locked. Send someone up right away, please.” Now, earlier that day, I had tried to get help from the front desk. It wasn’t ideal: they took forever to answer the phone, and took over two hours to send someone up when they finally did answer. So I didn’t have much faith that we’d ever see that pizza in an edible state again. Regardless, they said they’d send someone up right away. And right away was no joke. Someone came up in under two minutes with keys. With our mission complete, we returned triumphant with pizza to the rest of the Jans who were gathered.

No Game For Jan: Jan vs. The “No Jan Rule”

Wallnald Swanson: the shit that almost didn’t get done, but then shit got done.

By the final night, word of Jan’s exploits were carried far and wide by the blogging attendees of the conference. Jan had created a Twitter account, and had been spotted getting SEO shit done, celebrating Fistmas (or was it Fistavus?) in SugarCunt’s room, victoriously belly-flopping onto bean bag furniture, consensually coaxing an inflatable swan penis into the full, upright, and locked position, and generally being on the loose getting shit done. The Stoner Games took place on that final night, where Bex taught a room full of high and/or drunk Jans the Fucking Game.

It goes like this: everyone takes 3-4 slips of paper and writes random things on them. These slips all get placed into a bag, and each player takes turns drawing two out, deciding which of the two random things they’d rather fuck. The winner goes back in the bag, while the loser gets discarded. To avoid a dozen slips of paper with “Jan” on them, a No Jan Rule was implemented. There were many popular contenders. One Jan wrote “The No Jan Rule” on a slip, because fuck the No Jan Rule. Another wrote “a very capable human being who is v v good at what they do”, which we all at some point decided had to be Jan. The final decision came between these two options, and after much deliberation, the fates smiled on Jan that night, as the No Jan Rule was laid low. Jan had overcome.

Channeling Jan: Janneling

Some stories come and some stories go, but true legends live on in our hearts. While #SFS17 is over, Jan is still out there, today, getting shit done. Maybe you’re Jan, out there doing the shit that needs doing. Maybe you’re not sure if you’re Jan, and feeling low and unproductive – fear not, Jan believes in you. Just Jannel and get shit done. For while Jan insists she’s not a cult, we’re all Jan. And Jan gets shit done.


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