How being raised a feminist helps me enjoy sex
So here’s how it goes. Lights on dimmer, kids toys put away (#dickkiller). Fresh sheets, bluetooth speaker charged with playlist ready to go. Candles lit, drinks stocked. Sounds like some sort of a seduction? Well, yes, and I’m not one bit ashamed!
My mates have a good giggle at me for the routine that I have mastered over the past few years since becoming single, and I’m very comfortable with it. It doesn't always play out this way, but most of the time, being clear about the fact that I want and like sex, and can plan for it with people I’m dating, allows me to feel in control, safe, sexy and confident. A little embarrassing when a neighbour drops in with some lemons on a school night and I’m dressed in a slinky nightie lighting a candle in one hand, wine in the other… but hey.
Over the years I’ve noticed common themes while debriefing on the ‘sex’ chat or listening to other women’s stories of shitty sexual encounters. Recurring bad sex, feeling objectified, doing things we don’t want to do, zero orgasms and a sense of shame around our own pleasure. WTF is this about girls!? Given sex has been included in Maslow’s hierarchy of the most fundamental of human needs, why does shame hold so many of us back?! I’ve come to realise that maybe my lack of shame stems from how I was brought up: as a feminist. Taking a feminist attitude towards sex makes for much better sex. Not just for women, either: for guys too.
Sex was always spoken openly about in my home growing up and from the moment I showed interest in the ‘Where Did I Come From’ books, Mum and Dad knew it wasn’t going to be a topic easily swept under the rug. One thing that particularly stands out to me is that my sex education was woman focused. It was always explained to me about the importance of pleasure for the woman. The woman has the baby, she has power over her body. I was amazed. These ‘grown-up’ women seemed to have it all! I couldn’t bloody wait! In fact, all I learnt about men’s sexuality was that they ejaculated and it was fun but then it was over. Like when you get really into a Netflix series and then boom, it’s over and you have to wait until they release the next ep! Ugh! There’s much more to it, of course, but I think the more urgent conversation is about how we, both men and women, approach female sexuality, and start looking at it differently: the way my parents did.
As I went through puberty, I felt normal exploring my body and experienced orgasms way before I started my sexual relationship with men. I fell in love as a 16-year-old; losing my virginity was something I waited to do with him, when I felt loved and completely ready. We wagged school and funnily enough it played out quite similarly to the seduction routine I roll out now, except ‘Teardrop’ by Massive Attack was on repeat on the tape player next to my lava lamp. But what stands out more, is that the next day I told Dad. I had a frank chat about it with him: surprisingly I was not embarrassed at all but proud. He listened and I remember him saying that he would rather know that I was sexually active and allow me to have safe sex in the comfort of our home than in the back of a car or down at the park. Dad set the bar for me at that point and I look back and realise how open communication with my parents at this age especially around self-worth and sex were crucial. It makes me wonder if this is how I managed to dodge the bullet of shame? Imagine if more dads could sit down with their daughters and have these conversations: we’d have healthier boys and men and much healthier girls and women.
Shame is the ‘not good enough’ voice, the ‘what do people think?’ voice. ‘You’re not worthy,’ ‘your body isn’t sexy’. What is extra messed up about that is, when I’ve asked men what is the sexiest aspect to a woman, nine times out of ten they don’t say boobs, smile or bum, it’s self confidence! Knowing herself and what she wants. So we are often shooting ourselves in the foot. Time to find ways to end the shame and own the sex.
My checklist to counter shame is by building my self-worth and power: not power as in greed, but power as in a deep, unshakable belief in myself. For me, what counteracts shame are the values instilled in me from a young age around my right as a woman to enjoy pleasure and be free to express myself through sex that is mutually respectful and fulfilling.This has allowed me to feel empowered in intimate moments, rather than objectified or used for someone else’s pleasure. Honestly, if I’m not enjoying it, I don’t do it. Full stop. I know my body better than anyone else (which is the first step to enjoying sex in my opinion), and I have no problems being seduced or seducing, whether it be by candlelight or elsewhere.
I wonder what the world would be like if everyone approached sex from this place.
First published in Body + Soul.
