Yesterday when I came home from work, my mom confronted me. She told me that she read my previous post this week — the first post I have publicly shared on Facebook — not to be nosy, but to inspect my grammar. She then noticed a few of my racier titles and wound up reading more personal, intimate articles, like the first time I had intercourse. I was flattered when she whimsically compared me to the legendary Samantha Jones, though I express my sexuality far too lazily to be anywhere near Samantha’s reputation.
What my mom saw inspired both a disturbed horror and curiosity, especially for someone of her generation. She asked if my thoughts were my own, or if my cohorts shared them, which sparked discussion of how far our society has come toward accepting variance among sexual expression (though we have SO much further to go). The subsequent conversation we had about vibrators was a hilarious bonding experience.
I deliberately refrained from hiding my Facebook post from anyone on my Facebook friends list. Family members, former peers, professors, and (beloved) coworkers could access my ramblings just as easily as friends and acquaintances. Was I nervous? Yes. Am I still nervous? Absolutely. But this is all part of the journey of practicing authenticity to myself and my message in front of all audiences, not just the ones who will receive me most positively. I don’t intend to censor my writing on this blog, except to shield the identities of other people. I want to strive for raw honesty at all times.
I enjoy writing about taboo topics, especially sexuality.
My writing focus is the intersectionality of sexuality, gender, feminism, and mental health, but it’s my sexuality articles that attract the highest traffic, which doesn’t surprise me. As much as we like to pretend that sexuality is and should remain private, sexual stimulation is an enormous reinforcer of so much in life and does inevitably invade our everyday, public lives from time to time.
Nothing I have and will say on this blog is unique to the human experience, but that’s not my goal. I write both to express my own thoughts as well as to evoke emotion and discussion. People don’t thank me for my perspective; they thank me for openly verbalizing it. I’m neither the first nor the only person to talk about sex, sexuality, and sexual expression the way I do, but I talk about this facet of life as often and with an many people as I can. I mean, hell, I’m planning to make a career out of talking about sexuality — and listening to other people talk about it — all day, every day, for the rest of my life.
I firmly believe that sexuality should not be a taboo topic. Why, in this modern day, is sexuality regarded as more shameful than any of our other needs? Why can we talk openly about what we had for lunch, or how long we slept yesterday, or what we watched on Netflix last weekend, but not about what kind of sex we had this morning or what we fantasized about the last time we masturbated? Of all the natural impulses over which to feel shame, sex is toward the bottom of my list. I wish people could comfortably have these conversations, both with their lovers as well as with friends and family.
Sexual expression offers a powerful form of escapism and often allows us to transcend the confines of reality.
We can experience thoughts, feelings, and sensations that we need but aren’t getting in our everyday lives and explore our psyches to an incredible depth.
Our sexual impulses and drives are universal, even when we feel and express them differently from each other — including people who feel none at all. I encourage you to join the conversation and start speaking up. We all have more in common than we think.