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TAYLOR TATUM

Taylor Tatum

Come home to what's already here.

Taylor Tatum reaching up toward the trees in an orange skirt by the river

I’m called to this work because I was once the woman who zoned out during sex to the allure of my to do list. The woman who couldn’t receive a compliment without deflection. I hyper-independently ran from task to task, oriented entirely around productivity, never giving my body a chance to catch up and tell me how I was actually doing.

Something cracked open when I was gifted the book Pussy: A Reclamation, by Mama Gena. It named what I’d never looked at directly - how much of my pleasure I’d outsourced to men, how much of my value I’d built around the satisfaction of others, and the reality of my tendency to perform when it comes to pleasure. Pleasure was something I saw as a reward… a gift I was only able to experience once I’d earned it.

For a long time, I didn’t really understand what it meant to be connected to my body. A lot of the language I came across around women’s work and sexuality was about goddesses, priestesses, archetypes, ancient temples, and past lives, and none of it resonated with me. Honestly, it made me wonder if this work was even for me.

What I did connect with was much simpler: my body, nature, the actual experience of sensation, understanding what was happening in my nervous system, and using visualization to bring my attention back into my body. Learning to notice what felt good instead of performing what I thought pleasure was supposed to look like. I realized I wasn’t looking for another spiritual identity. I was looking for a better relationship with myself.

What I’ve learned since is that I didn’t need one more thing to fix myself. I needed to come home to what was already here.

Now I start my day in movement, breath, and sound. I know when to say no. I can ask for help. I can receive pleasure instead of managing it. This isn’t a destination I arrived at one day. It’s a practice I return to daily, the same as you will.

That coming home shows up in everything I make. It’s the thread through my songs as Taylor Tatum, which are about slowing down, remembering who I was before I learned to hustle, and giving myself permission to rest. It’s in Edge of Ether, the line of hand-beaded capes I started in Austin and create alongside artisans in India, made to be worn by a woman who’s done shrinking. And it’s the heart of Birthright, my podcast and online community, where women come together to talk honestly about the real things of life: our bodies, our cycles, pleasure, relationships, and everything we were never taught. Different forms, same invitation: come back to what’s already here.

My work is grounded in lived experience, alongside professional training and a range of Tantric workshops and retreats (listed below). I also have ongoing mentorship support, and continue to receive this work myself.

Education & Training

  • Bachelor's Degree in Health and Exercise Science, University of Texas at Austin
  • Dakini Bodywork & Reiki Level 1 with Lauren Harkness
  • Holistic Pelvic Care with Tami Lynn Kent
  • Sexuality & The Nervous System with Kimberly Ann Johnson
  • Jaguar Fight Club with Kimberly Ann Johnson
  • Tantric study with Londin Winters & Justin Patrick Pierce (Yoga of Intimacy)
A gold hand-beaded Edge of Ether cape, seen from behind

Edge of Ether

The Capes

Every Edge of Ether cape is my design. [TODO: a line about how a design begins for you — a stone, a place, a feeling?]

My favorite thing about them is watching someone put one on for the first time. Almost instantly, they do a twirl. Their aura brightens and they become more radiant, all from one simple addition to their outfit. These capes truly transform the wearer.

I love how versatile they are: worn forward or backward, open or clasped, over a slip dress, denim, or a bodysuit. And I love the craftsmanship. Each one is hand-beaded by master artisans and takes more than 15 hours to make. I only order them in small batches of 10, so every cape catches the light, is made to last, and never feels mass-produced.

They aren’t just capes. They’re wearable magic, and I’m so happy to share them with you.

Shop the capes

Come home to your voice