It’s Just Not Sexy Enough W
hen I was 18 and a virgin, I wanted people to look at me a certain way. I wanted to be sexy, powerful, and to reclaim my body. I associated power with sex, but that isn’t how power works...at least not for most women. All of the young women around me who I associated with having power were hooking up with strangers, posting provocative photos, and constantly talking about their sex lives in public. I believed I could reclaim my sexuality in the same way they had. When I finally tried swimming in those waters, it wasn’t as empowering and luxurious as I had once been told it would be. No other person or outfit made me feel powerful or in control of my body. In fact, I felt like shit sleeping with strangers and wearing tight clothes. I fell for the illusion. Women have been manipulated into thinking we can “reclaim our power” through actions that inherently serve men’s needs and gazes. It’s your body, so it’s your choice, but how often are we actually making the choice to objectify ourselves? Is it normal to pawn off my body for an inkling of power? Perhaps it’s normal, but it shouldn’t be. We have streamlined far too many problematic and abusive behaviors in heterosexual relationships because of pornography, and a general fear to “kink shame” certain actions. Shame is a scary feeling, yet shame is what holds us accountable. You should feel shame if hurting someone gets you off; and no, shame shouldn’t turn you on. BDSM relationships have been marketed through books like 50 Shades of Gray,
and the media’s push to normalize aggression and shame in sex. Some may say,“but it’s just a kink! They don’t act that way outside the bedroom.” Maybe, but why does slapping or other forms of aggression towards you turn them on? Where does that kink stem from? Our society needs to be critical when talking about kinks, rather than just being afraid of offending or shaming someone. Does him slapping you turn you on? Or are you just expected to enjoy whatever he does to you so he feels good? Him feeling pleasure is not enough of a reason for you to give up your bodily autonomy. If he needs to hurt you to feel present during sex, maybe he should go to therapy. The largest media platform that is defining our sex lives is pornography. It is free and easily accessible, one of the many reasons why it is terrifying. In most pornography, women are removed from the narrative. They are depicted as “young” or “freshly 18,” and then they “act” in a way that feels, in so few words, dumb and naive. Women are being portrayed as sexual and clueless dolls whose sole purpose is to sexually satisfy a man. Boys and girls are exposed to this media at such a young age where they are raised to assume this is normal. When children stumble upon these websites, they are afraid to discuss it with their parents. We have so much shame around discussing healthy and empowering sex that we deny young adults the right to have safe and satisfying sex.
that is the ideal scenario, many people won’t stop watching porn. But, we can promote more queer and womencentered porn. Making porn more inaccessible by requiring consumers to pay for access could also minimize the amount of damage done by having porn available. Children won’t stumble on random pornographic websites and the women who are featured in those films would be compensated more, hopefully. Reframing how we view sex allows each person to rewrite their narrative. What turns you on? What feels safe? Who am I choosing to share my pleasure with? Sex isn’t about giving and taking, it’s about meeting in the middle and connecting with someone. Or, connecting with yourself. When you effectively articulate your needs and desires, sex can be more than just a physical connection, it’s an opportunity to foster true intimacy and confidence. This isn’t to say you can’t have casual sex, you most definitely can. It just means that casual sex shouldn’t feel threatening or performative. Casual sex should mean that both parties, or everyone included in that party, should leave satisfied. Sex should feel empowering, but not in the way that we have often been told it would be, whether by our partners, parents, educators, media, or big brands. We should each take a step back and think about how we engage with sex, kinks, and pornography. Once we reflect on those issues, then we can each feel empowered before, during, and after sex.
So, how can we change this phenomenon? Well, we can start with refusing to watch pornography. Though WRITTEN BY QUAYE MEADOW