When I was in the sixth grade I was terrified that people could read my thoughts. I’m not lying about this either. I would pat the back of my head in order to make sure a bubble revealing my non-stop thoughts of my body, boys, and my new boobs were not popping out for the world to see. When my class would sit in front of our church assemblies, I would think to myself, “don’t think about that dirty video I once saw on my brothers’ computer” or “ don’t think about the fact that I measure my boobs every day.” Nevertheless, the church made me a dirty thinker and that explains more to me now than it did to me then.
Now I’m entering a new world where women are not scared to tell the stories of their lame sexcapades or that one time they discovered touching their vagina made them feel some sort of relief. I sit here glancing at a world that my age is still a little hesitant to enter. A world I was a little hesitant to enter but that I always knew I should be a part of. I grew up in a house where the fact that I could be having sex was ‘erroneous on all accounts.’ Yet, they wanted me to be a strong independent woman. But yet, they wanted me to censor myself to other people. But yet, they wanted me to stay their little girl. I was torn between a world I was not meant to be in and a world I so strongly needed to participate in.
Early on, I knew I was a sexual woman. Given that, I hated myself for it because other people hated me for it. I even hate myself for calling myself a ‘sexual woman.’ What does that even mean? Normal is a perfect word for it, I think. I was normal! I was curious about sex. I loved a boy so I had sex with him. I thought sex was a good idea with some wrong people and I did it anyway. I was curious about my body so I explored it. It was the nature of puberty and coming of age that I wanted to censor. I didn’t like people knowing I was human. I didn’t like people knowing that yes I made mistakes but I didn’t necessarily regret them. “A woman never kisses and tells.” Well, why the hell not? Why does it matter who I kiss and who I tell, why does it matter who I fuck and who knows? I know now that I would never take back the awkward first time or the terrible second time or the unforgettable other times. I know now that more people talked about my sex life than I did.
The first time I had sex, I cried in the bathroom for 45 minutes afterward. Before I got home, I washed my face numerous times to wash off the ‘glow’ everyone talked about getting when you have sex. Although the probably less than two minutes of my life-changing decision made me dimmer than giving me a ‘glow’. I didn’t cry because I regretted it, I cried because I was scared of what people would think of me now. I knew everyone would find out, but why did I care? When down the line did society instill in my head that my sex life was something to be ashamed of? I made a pact to myself, pretty recently, at the ripe age of 20, that if I was too scared to buy condoms, I was not going to have sex. I was terrified to buy condoms because the one time I did the lady at Walgreens was spitting at me with her mouth closed. I tried to make a joke, a bad joke, something like “Better safe than sorry huh?” and the pitiful look of ‘you fucking slut’ haunted me for the rest of my recent sex life. Or it could have been the time I bought Plan B and an old man made it his duty to tell me how to exactly take the pill with a long line behind me. Trying to feel comfortable with the advice from a man who thought he was my Grandfather giving me valuable advice for the future, I nodded and stuttered that I agreed, only for my card to be declined later. I was scarred one contraceptive at a time.
Now, I’m in a world where if my sex life is bothering you or you think you can poke fun at it, be my guest you intelligent person of the 21st century. Please, downplay my sex life if it makes you feel better; if it makes you feel superior. Understand that I look down on someone who can’t accept that humanity is sexual. That women and men can have one night stands with no judgment. That women and men should stop worrying about numbers and start worrying about keeping your body safe and yourself healthy. Please understand that I think our society needs to focus on safer sex rather than censoring the fact that sex is happening. My sex life is not a taboo. Sex is not taboo. My body is not a taboo subject either. And it shouldn’t be for you.
samanthabridget 