I read a post from Girl with a One Track Mind last night, and Zoe Margolis*, you marvellous woman; in one paragraph you have articulated what I’ve needed to hear for most of my sexually active adult life.
“Everywhere I looked it seemed that as a woman, I was either supposed to have difficulty orgasming and be inhibited about sex, or else I was supposed to be donning a thong, shaking my tits to some lads, and screaming about how “empowered” I was. I related to neither, and I was sick of how my sexuality as a woman was restrained by these limited stereotypes. Where were the women who loved sex and refused the “slut” labels? Where were the women who felt OK about their bodies, but weren’t interested in making money off them? Where were the women who grasped that sexual liberation doesn’t mean the freedom to pose for Playboy, but instead, means being able to have the sex that they want and still be respected by both their partners and society?”
The child of a repressed society that categorised women as either “good girls” or “whores” and nothing in-between, as a teenager and young woman I pretty much always felt as if I was somehow deviant for having the sexual appetites and desires I had. I rebelled self-destructively against the labels in my early 20s, shut myself off from desire in my late 20s, rediscovered myself in my 30s and am only just beginning to feel comfortable and empowered and, dammit, utterly schexxxy again.
And it feels good. It seems completely ridiculous to admit this, especially since, amongst my friends, I’m considered to be the most sexually expressive, open and adventurous of our group. But for the first time in my life I’m having orgasms (plenty of orgasms**) and sex feels fun and sweet and passionate and fabulous without a twinge of guilt or shame or indignity. And as much as I wish I knew what I know now back in my 20s, I’m just glad I’m good with being me right now.
*Read her blook. It’s fab
** LB. You!