They say money makes the world go around. Well, I believe sex is even more powerful.
It is the underlying force that motivates us on so many levels and dictates many of our social transactions.
It is natural, fun, vital and human, but this week I felt shamed for talking about it.
Ireland has a tricky relationship with sex. Probably because Ireland still has a tricky relationship with itself.
This year has marked a major milestone for the Irish – we were the first country to legalise same-sex marriage by popular vote – but as a society we are still majorly hung up about sex.
And it’s not surprising. Issues around sex in Ireland have long been monitored by the moral authority of celibate men who told us masturbation was bad, contraception worse, divorce a sin and that being attracted to the same sex is evil.
Our social institutions have tried to rein in our sexual expression through a variety of mechanisms – outlawing same-sex relationships, championing female chastity and shaming female sexuality – to ensure continuance of a nice cosy male social, political and economic dominance.
Women in particular are encouraged to stay quiet about it – a fact I was confronted with this week – and in the silence, our views of sex and sexuality begin to be shaped and moulded—yet with no gauge of what’s healthy or good.
There is a major disconnect between between this societal ideal and the biological truth and that gap is widened the more we stay quiet about it.
It’s time to close the gap.
This week, I wrote a humorous piece about blow jobs. I wanted to write something tongue-in-cheek that was reflective of hilarious conversations I’ve had and heard women having (albeit in hushed tones over a glass of wine).
It’s funny, we’re not doing anything wrong, let’s share it, let’s laugh.
Myself and my colleagues thoroughly enjoyed brainstorming the piece and absolutely loved following the readers’ responses – mostly female – tagging their friends and laughing along with us.
It was refreshing. It was fun. No one was harmed.
I will admit, however, that it was probably unusual. Women (especially Irish women) don’t write pieces as flippantly as men do. That’s just fact.
In a society that has a long narrative of tainting female sexuality with shame and judgement while applauding it in men, it’s no surprise women are less likely to speak openly about sex.
It is not that long ago that unmarried mothers in Ireland were sent away to the Magdalene laundries and we are STILL afraid to talk about abortion.
We are making progress though and we are speaking up more, but here’s what baffles me – it’s not our male peers who are quietening us, it’s our female peers.
We do such a disservice to each other when we judge each other’s sexual escapades and “slut-shame” girls who are open about their sexuality.
Sexuality is powerful – female sexuality dynamite – and we should own it, celebrate it and have fun with it.
After all, fear and guilt are bad places to make sexual choices from. If we are made to believe that sexual encounters are imbued with shame, we are a lot less likely to open up and discuss our needs within them.
Women are far less likely to carry condoms in their purse if casual sex is frowned upon by their peers – but that doesn’t mean it won’t happen. It just means we’ll be red-faced the next day and blame the “slip” on hormones or drink.
The more we talk and the more we learn, the safer and more empowered our choices become.
But back to my “racy”article.
The day after it was published I was phoned by a publication who had decided to take a less than flattering angle on my piece.
My former employers were also called for comment for a story that they warned me might get “embarrassing”.
Immediately I was worrying about what my family, friends and employers would think of my article. I felt guilty, I felt embarrassed, I felt ashamed.
I felt I shouldn’t have written it. I wanted to delete it. I went to bed with a knot of anxiety in my stomach.
I had to make some tough phone calls warning my parents about what was going to come out. I had no idea what to expect.
What’s baffling is that the journalist in question is a young woman, just like me, and the publication is one that celebrates titillation in general.
Of course, as is always the way, the article turned out to be nothing at all to worry about – a complete non-story that is already fish and chips paper.
It’s not the story that got me thinking, but rather the way I felt the night before it was released. Guilty and afraid.
For what?
The more I thought about it, the more the guilt was replaced with anger and the fear replaced with conviction.
Women want to have sex, they want to talk about it and they want to hear about it.
After decades of avoidance, ignorance and repression when it comes to all things sex, we are finally starting to talk about it. And guess what? If we don’t talk, others will. All day long we are spoken TO about sex. Turn on the TV, open a magazine, and you’ll be bombarded with images of what sex is and what it should be.
Let’s join the conversation.
Let’s not hush each other up.
Sex is a currency, it makes the world go round and it is not just for men.
There won’t be some sort of apocalypse if women open up more about it.
Keep talking, girls. I know I will.
