Advantages :
Because contraceptive autonomy should not depend on medical authorization, a locked-down patent, or a restricted product. Making your own swatch or jockstrap is a refusal to accept that the right to experiment on one’s own body is reserved for a technoscientific, male-dominated elite. DIY is a technical gesture—but above all, it’s a political one.
Is it dangerous?
What’s truly dangerous is suggesting that people aren’t capable of understanding or allowed to try. Our workshops are about sharing knowledge, equipping people with caution, and encouraging body awareness. DIY doesn’t mean doing things carelessly—it means doing things differently, together, and with intention.
Is it legal?
Yes. Self-experimentation is not prohibited. Distributing non-certified objects for free—provided they are clearly presented as experimental and not marketed with medical claims—is also not illegal. What is prohibited: copying the patented Andro-switch without a license and selling it, even indirectly through workshop fees; misrepresenting its purpose; or knowingly endangering people.
Our position is clear: neither underground nor industrial. Just care, sharing, and vigilance among peers. We’ve been actively contributing to open-source tools and DIY development since 2017.
And what about the patent?
It’s not a barrier—it’s a protective tool. It blocks industrial appropriation and ensures ethical control of how the method spreads. It’s publicly readable, license-accessible, and compatible with cooperative dynamics. A defensive tool in service of a technical common, under political watch.
And what about those who copy without respect?
We’re not against inspiration. We’re against practices that erase origin, distort meaning, or exploit militant work for personal or commercial gain. Our response isn’t punitive—it’s structural: we document, acknowledge, and share. So everyone knows where things come from, and why that matters.
In short
DIY means reclaiming control over one’s contraception, sharing peer knowledge, and anchoring one’s practice in a history of struggle: for bodily sovereignty, reproductive justice, and technological cooperation. Doing it yourself doesn’t mean isolating yourself. It means resisting—with care.
Toxic biases in today’s DIY scenes
The progressive boys’ club: It’s safe here—if you’re one of us. Workshops filled with cool, gentle, bearded guys, often white, often degreed, sometimes woke, always among themselves. Others? Spectators, guests, cheerleaders—or excluded. Patriarchy with an open-source face.
The dictatorship of gear and glitter: don't you have a vacuum chamber? You're doing poor man's DIY. Hierarchization of practices according to tooling: sophisticated 3D printers, vacuum chambers, etc. Doing becomes a technical performance, not a return to power. Modest know-how, textiles, crafts? Scorned.
The hipster-masculine aesthetic: If your jockstrap isn’t black, matte, and tight, you didn’t get the memo. A fetish for “brutalist but sleek” design. The talk is inclusive, but the visual imaginary is cis, dry, elitist. Where there should be softness, queer energy, uncertainty—you get logos, graphene, and clean branding.
Smothering techno-pedagogy: Sure, you can join… if you speak our language. Ask a simple question? Get a 20-minute answer with jargon, diagrams, and benevolent condescension. Everything’s about “sharing knowledge”—except sharing project direction, naming problems, or setting collective limits.
The symbolic capital of the deconstructed dude: I talk about andrology, I deconstruct my balls, I’m an ally. He speaks about non-violent masculinity and shared contraception—but always from the center. He runs the Insta, leads the workshops, quotes Foucault. No real room for other masculinities, women, trans people, or precarious folks.
Total invisibilization of care: The workshop starts at 7 p.m. Gloves are clean, tables set. Magic. Who cleans, preps, hosts, holds space for discomfort, follows up afterward? No one notices, because care work is invisible, expected, or devalued. DIY without care is a toxic space—no matter how good it smells.
Startupification of the commons: It’s an open-source project… but I’m fundraising off it. The project is framed as horizontal, ethical, shared. Behind the scenes: fundraising, trademarking, setting up a for-profit company, solo media appearances. The “commons” is a façade—the project is a social elevator, powered by stolen labor.
Comfortable activist cliques: We’re all safe here—so we don’t need to self-question anymore. Political gentrification: middle-class-coded activism, highly trained, over-structured. “Untrained”? “Messy”? “Unrefined”? Excluded by cold benevolence. No room for mistakes, fatigue, or raw rage.
The cult of the object over the process: Look what I made. (Don’t ask how I got there.) The prototype, the glossy photo, the Instagram moment get showcased—not the frustration, the fights, the self-doubt, the compromises. The politics vanish behind polished results.
Ethical duplicity: Of course I’m inspired. But I’m the one making it visible. Soft appropriation: copying a method, adapting a tool, reformatting a guide—while consistently avoiding credit, context, or reciprocity. It’s not “stealing”, it’s “solidifying”. In plain terms: it’s looting dressed up as collaboration.
The result: Exclusionary environments. Surface-level aesthetics. Reproduction of the very hierarchies we claim to dismantle.
What to do instead: Return to an ethics of making as liberation, not performance. Build spaces where inclusion isn’t just decorative. Share the messy backstory, not just the polished outcome. Distribute power—not just tools.
Disclaimer: The information provided in this FAQ is based on user testimonials and is for general information purposes only. It does not constitute medical advice, diagnosis or professional treatment. We are not medical doctors. Always consult a qualified healthcare professional for personalized and appropriate medical advice. We accept no responsibility for any consequences arising from the use of the information provided in this FAQ. Send us an e-mail.
