Liberation through sexual exploration

“In itself, homosexuality is as limiting as heterosexuality: the ideal should be to be capable of loving a woman or a man; either, a human being, without feeling fear, restraint, or obligation.”
― Simone de Beauvoir , The Second Sex

In volume I of Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex, she discusses the “everlasting disappointment” of women through heteronormativity. She writes that both heterosexuality and homosexuality are severely limiting for women’s sexual pleasure and general liberation.

I’m not for prescriptive feminisms telling women who they should sleep with…I won’t lie though, this argument got me thinking.

Recently, I’ve been thinking about a conversation I had the spring of my junior year that changed the way I looked at sex and relationships. I was in the Pride Center looking for a book for a project I can’t recall. As I fingered through the shelf through books about queer love, human rights, health and relationships, I came across a book titled Lesbian Sex. The book’s cover was a collage of naked women kissing, caressing and fucking in positions that were foreign to me. I started to think about my own sexual identity and my experiences as a queer woman with a straight boyfriend and how I was so limited in my understanding of female sexual pleasure. Completely forgetting the initial purpose of my Pride Center visit, I picked up the book and headed back to my workspace in the Center for Gender Equity.

As I was scrolling through the pages, I became fascinated with the book’s detailed and unapologetic descriptions of everything from flirting to fingering, oral sex, strap-ons and the many ways to seduce and satisfy women. In fact, I was so interested that I didn’t notice my friend walk in, who apparently stood there and watched for a while as my head was deep in a book that’s cover looked like an advertisement you would find on PornHub.

This friend of mine, Kayla* came into the center to eat lunch. She saw the book I was reading and laughed: “Of course I would catch you reading a book about sex. That’s all you’re interested in.” Although she was exaggerating (as my interests don’t lie exclusively in the realm of sex and deviance) she had a point. Throughout my college career and through research, courses, internships that added to my experiential knowledge as a sexually active young adult, I’ve dedicated a lot of mental energy to understanding sex. I also talk about it quite freely, and according to my friends and work acquaintances, frequently. Although I push back when people tell me that I talk about sex too much or imply that I do, I shouldn’t because it really isn’t a bad thing.

Even as a sex-positive queer feminist, I still get defensive at the assumption that I am interested in sex. It’s bizarre. I typically make the argument that sex is important to understand because of the ways racism, sexism and homophobia manifests through our sexual behaviors, and this isn’t something people typically discuss, or discuss productively. The mystification, shame and silence surrounding sex causes misinformation or a lack of information which could lead to unwanted pregnancies and the spread of sexually transmitted diseases. I often mention the multitude of ways marginalized people are violated through mainstream discourse and understandings about sex. The objectification of women. Racial fetishization. Exploitation. Sex trafficking. Rape culture. Violence. Sickness. Death.

I am also critical of the way we (schools, colleges, society generally) discuss sex solely through (mainly heterosexual) avoidance discourse. If students are lucky enough to get any form of sexual education, it is typically in terms of avoiding violence and disease. I feel that throughout my experiences in sex education no one ever mentioned the pleasure part of it. I’ve noticed my internalized shame surrounding sex as I still feel the need to focus mostly of manifested societal ills and violence. If I were to be honest, I would simply say that my interest in sex stems from a fascination of pleasure and curiosity towards the ways different people with different bodies, sexes, genders, sexual preferences, philosophies, cultures, etc. have good and satisfying sex. Not that the other stuff isn’t absolutely necessary, but I will not say that they are more important. Why am I like this? I don’t know. I blame the church, but I’ll discuss that another time. Back to Kayla…

I didn’t explain all of this to her. I simply laughed it off and invited her to look at the book with me. It would probably be speaking to the choir anyways, as Kayla is also a queer feminist who is fairly open about sex and dating. We’re good friends, and we’ve had several conversations sharing our crushes, fantasies, bizarre sex stories, relationship drama, etc. Flipping through the lesbian sex book prompted another casual conversation about our sex lives. She said that she’s only ever been with men. We talked about why that might be. Availability? Convenience? Fear? Internalized homophobia? I later learned that this was a common experience for bisexual women and it’s probably a mix of many reasons. She also confided in me that she has never had an orgasm.

“It is perfectly natural for the future woman to feel indignant at the limitations posed upon her by her sex. The real question is not why she should reject them: the problem is rather to understand why she accepts them.” ~ Simone de Beauvoir

To the reader it may not be shocking to hear that a young woman is not having mind-blowing orgasmic sex, so I’ll explain why it was shocking to me. Ever since I’ve known Kayla, she’s always been very sexually active. She is the kind of empowered sex positive queer woman who actively seeks out pleasurable sexual experiences just because she likes it. She doesn’t limit herself within the confines of any monogamous relationship and has often voiced her opposition to doing so. When the topic is brought up, she openly shares her experiences, likes and dislikes. She always struck me as a confident person who would feel comfortable enough to prioritize her sexual pleasure.

I realized I was making a lot of assumptions. I’ve been told that woman can have good sex without orgasming, but I know this is commonly used by men to justify their inadequacy or straight negligence in bed. Therefore, this claim is suspect. Maybe she didn’t feel as comfortable talking about sex to the men she was sleeping with as she was with me. Maybe she wasn’t as confident or concerned with her own pleasure during sex. But what does it mean if someone like Kayla felt disempowered to demand her needs to be taken care of in bed?

“To be feminine is to show oneself as weak, futile, passive, and docile…Any self-assertion will take away from her femininity and her seductiveness.” ~Simone de Beauvoir

Kayla could tell that I had a lot to say, but I didn’t bombard her with questions, but I simply asked, “Why do you think that is?” She explained that she never was able to make herself cum so she didn’t know how to explain it to anyone else. She never really prioritized her sexual pleasure because she just assumed it was never going to happen. She would just settle for subpar sex like she has been since high school.

From there we had a long conversation which was mostly me listing the typical feminist affirmations. Your voice matters. You’re body, you’re choice. Prioritize your pleasure. I shared with her my first experiences with sex and with straight men who were brazenly unconcerned about my needs. We talked about the times it felt like our bodies were just used by someone else to jack off. I thought about how long it has taken me to finally be able to say what I like and refuse what I don’t.

I wondered if this growth would have progressed more quickly if my first sexual experiences weren’t with men. When I thought about it, I considered the power of sex among women. This sex wasn’t centered on procreative penetration. Since procreation wouldn’t be a possibility, its singular function is female pleasure. What implications does this have for women? What would female-centric sex look like, and how possible is it to achieve between heterosexual partners?

Kayla reminded me of the limitations of sex with men for women. Is it possible that sex between women is an essential step towards actualization of a sexual identity for women? I think it is an interesting consideration.

Citations:

Nancy Bauer (2006) [2004]. “Must We Read Simone de Beauvoir?”. In Grosholz, Emily R. The Legacy of Simone de Beauvoir. Oxford University Press. ISBN 0-19-926536-4.

Simone de Beauvoir (1971). The Second Sex