A radical reason for good sex
The idea that sex could help provide a salve against the news cycle isn’t totally crazy—we’ve all heard the long list of stress-reducingbenefits of orgasm. Resolving to have better sex as a form of self-care, however, felt a little bit like a joke at first. But the more I’ve tried to prioritize good sex, the more I understand just how important it is, especially for marginalized women.
Like many black women, my relationship with sex is complicated. Catcalls, sexual harassment, objectification, and unwanted sexual attention have all eaten away at my connection to healthy sex as an adult—a familiar reality for many women (no matter the color of their skin) but especially for marginalized women. With few social barriers to protect us, black women’s trauma is everywhere: A 2018 study conducted by the National Women’s Law Center found black women file sexual harassment charges at three times the rate of white women.
Growing up, I internalized all of this. Sexuality was something that put you in danger and should be suppressed at all costs. So I made a sacrifice: fear sex to maintain my (relative) safety.
But I’m learning there is power in prioritizing good sex. “We often ask black folks, ‘If you don’t have agency over your own body, how do you plan to have political, social, and economic agency?’” say Rafaella Fiallo and Dalychia Saah, founders of Afrosexology. “Reclaiming your body is an act of resistance.” Slowly, I’m learning to let go of the shame hangover I’ve grown to expect after a night of dirty talk or showing off my cleavage. I’m reclaiming my body one orgasm at a time.
Small acts of resistance
I’m not kidding myself. We can’t wash away these systemic issues in a great wave of black women’s pleasure. But it is a start. “Sex encourages self-love and patience when dealing with oppression by teaching us that we don’t have to put our pleasure, of any kind, in the hands of others,” says Tiffani Lashai Curtis, a sex writer in Philadelphia. We deserve to feel joy, excitement and—you guessed it—pleasure.
The more time I spend working toward good sex, the more I’m feeling the power in other areas of my life. Learning to say no to something I’m not into in bed helps me say no to situations and conversations in which I feel unsafe. Learning to ask my partner for exactly what I want is helping me learn to call out relationships where I’m getting less than I deserve. Learning to speak up during sex is teaching me to speak up in life.
Prioritizing good sex isn’t exactly easy—it means doing the emotional work, shedding centuries of stereotypes and oppression, and most important, rediscovering my voice as a black woman. It’s a challenge. But it’s worth it. Black women deserve validation, one orgasm at a time.
A. Rochaun Meadows-Fernandez is a diversity content specialist. Follow her on Twitter @amrothom.
