This is a nonfiction post about *sex* (not graphic but some feelz in here for good measure) so if you’re not into that then maybe don’t read ahead.
For years, I had sex with the man I lost my virginity to out of fear that he was the only one who would have sex with me. He fulfilled my needs, sexually, but it became very clear as we got older that we had outgrown each other. For me, that didn’t matter. I wanted to have sex and I was too afraid to be open about it that I clung to him like a life raft. He was safe. Sex was very scary for me. I wasn’t really raised to see it as holy and between husband and wife, but I had no language to describe sex for pleasure.
I have always learned (through church, TV, movies etc) that the men before your husband are meaningless. Don’t give them too much. Don’t let them spend the night at your house, don’t let them see you naked, be on your best behavior because you must be pristine for your husband. The things you do now could ruin your happiness with your future husband.
(As a Black woman these fears are multiplied tenfold, but I don’t quite have all the words for that yet)
In many ways I get it. The emotional manipulation I’ve been through at the hands of men I’ve been romantically involved with is painful and I may never realize how much healing I have to do until I’m faced with a relationship that warrants it. However, all of the men before my husband mean something. Often, we are taught, even encouraged, to discard these people. They are not your person so therefore they should be treated with sterility and distance. I believe in guarding against those who could hurt you; I believe in protecting your light so it can shine its brightest when the time is right, but when that protection stops you from seeing beauty in yourself and beauty in others then what’s the point?
I believe that there’s something about sex that will change people. My anxieties about sex were rooted in fear and not power. They were rooted in self-loathing and not self-love. So I have decided to break that cycle slowly and surely. Breaking the cycle means talking about these things. Admitting that there may be many someones who change your life. Admitting that in the midst of the hellishness of the world there may be a single person you’re willing to wait for. Admitting that no one can take away your agency. It means admitting that sometimes I really like being held by someone who may be nothing more than right now; it means I must not use sex as a tool of manipulation or a weapon against someone.
I must reclaim what I’ve been given and what has been taken away from me.
Last week I was dropping off a 15 year student of mine at her house in Cherry Hill. She saw a cat and flipped out. I’ve always been aware of this collective irrational fear “we” have–but is it really irrational?
I mentioned Mafia3, a game that let’s you beat up KKK members to a group of boy students, who were discussing other videos games. They all jumped, shuddered, and said “No!” At the idea of playing that game.
As much as the world fears us, I really doubt they routinely consider the intensity of fear we’ve lived under for generations; so much so, it’s culturally conditioned.
And welcome to uncharted waters! Beginners stay in the shallow end to read the script of how their lives should be–uncharted waters are for womyn who crave swimming in the deep waters. It’s never really stopped being scary for me–wondering if I’ll ever find the one “that will stay”. But it’s so much less scary, that the only fear I feel now, is the idea of what I could potentially lose obtaining something I’ve always wanted! haha.
Imani–thank you for exploring these thoughts. Your writing has inspired me endlessly tonight. I think it’s really important you continue.