I spent my adolescent years believing my sexuality was something to be given and taken. Having sex for the first time meant giving away my virginity. Participating in sex meant satisfying my male partner’s pleasure. I saw my body as innately sexual and tainted, made only to appease the masculine gaze. Quickly, I internalized this belief that I was only a pawn for men’s sexual desires; hyper-sexualized, yet stripped of my own sexuality. My understanding of sexuality was limited to a rigid binary: masculine sexuality was uncontrollable, desirable and powerful, while feminine sexuality was non-existent.
I began having sex when I was 16 years old. I had been taught that being pure and untouched made be a better woman, so my virginity was sacred to me. I justified losing my virginity by claiming that I was in love with my high school boyfriend. I believed I was going to marry him (stupid). In the early stages of my sex life, I didn’t understand the hype around sex. It felt uncomfortable, sometimes even painful. I constantly wished for my partner to cum so we could stop. I felt too ashamed to try new things and explore my sexuality. I accepted anticlimactic sex because I believed it didn’t matter what I thought or felt— sex was for men and I was just a tool designed to help them achieve climax.
I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when my beliefs began to change. As I grew older, I slowly started to open up to my sexuality. Maybe this change was the result of puberty, maybe it was education, or maybe it was just experience. It took time, but I slowly unlearned the slut-shaming and male-dominating ideologies surrounding sex that I had been carrying with me for so long. I started to recognize my sexuality as a vital part of my identity. It is not something determined by social norms and barriers; it is something free-flowing and natural. It is something controlled by me and only me. It is something I deserve to claim freely and openly.
As I grew into my sex life, I became curious about the mysteries of female orgasms. Most of the time, my pleasure was secondary in sex. My orgasms were not an expectation, but only a bonus. I could tell that everyone, not just my sexual partners, was intimidated by vaginas— my health teachers were uncomfortable teaching about the female reproductive system, my female friends knew just as little about their own bodies as I did, and my male partners were convinced female orgasms were more difficult to reach. Everyone blamed anatomy.
I’ll be the first to tell you that anatomy is not at fault. The female body is just as capable of orgasms as the male body. Because we are taught that masculinity is inherently sexual, we start to believe those who don’t identify as this gender are less deserving of pleasure. When sex is viewed as a masculine trait, it becomes one-sided.
I fear that all too often women settle for unpleasant and unsatisfying sex because of the weight of social expectation. Women can be sexually active and simultaneously detached from their sexuality— too afraid to explore, too ashamed to feel. I’m a firm believer that we can learn so much about ourselves through sex. Sex has led me to meet strangers, new friends, and intimate partners. I have watched my friends grow in immense ways when they embrace their sexuality. There is so much to learn from knowing your body and connecting with another person through physical intimacy. And life becomes so much less confusing when you understand yourself, want you want, and what you deserve.
As women, not only do we need to unlearn the shame of sex, but we also need to internalize the belief that we are equally deserving sexual beings. Sex is natural, and it should be fun and pleasurable for all parties. Always make sure your partner sees you as their equal, and always make sure that you cum first. You deserve it.