Someone Called My Newsletter Filth. She Had a Point.
A reader emailed to say I was sending her filth. She had signed up herself. This is my answer.
I get all kinds of emails from readers, I enjoy getting them. But one arrived recently that gave me pause. A reader wanted to know why I was sending her "this filth" in her inbox. (She signed up, I checked.)
I didn't write back to argue, but I did sit with the question for a bit. Then I started writing this post because once I have the answer to a big question, I have to go share it with someone. My husband will tell you it's classic me.
When a culture labels one of the most fundamental human drives as shameful and tells people to hide it, who benefits? The answer isn't comfortable:
Institutions built on moral authority benefit when desire is shameful, because they define the rules and grant forgiveness. Political systems that depend on social regulation benefit too: Victorian sexual morality, Puritan beliefs in North America, policies designed around birth rates and heteronormative family structures. Patriarchal systems control reproduction because women's sexuality is central to property and inheritance. And in modern culture, entire economies have been built around sexual shame and insecurity.
Just something to noodle on...
A squirrel, looking for a nut (on chasing bliss)
There's a reason orgasm has been called la petite mort, the little death. For a moment, I stop being myself. The version of me that manages everything and holds everything together, goes quiet. And I experience bliss.
We spend our whole lives chasing that bliss. And yet there is so much self-shame attached to how we might get there. We call it kink as if it's shameful. We quietly and sheepishly read stories exploring it (shhh). The term "kink" carries so much of our collective baggage.
Kink, at its least threatening, is just fantasy with a name. It's where the hidden parts of us can exist without shame. We can be whomever, enjoy whatever, be loved however.
Sounds harmless, doesn't it?
It gets better. Fantasy isn't just escape. It's also a container, a place to enact what we carry and can't put down anywhere else. Do you lead a respectable, predictable life and crave the relief of letting go of control, just for an hour? Do you get there quicker with words? Are you always in your head, and the hard impact of skin on skin is the only thing that brings you back into your body?
Or, maybe control over your body hasn't always been yours, but here in this container - you are the author, you decide what happens, when it stops, who holds the power.
Reclaiming your desires is an act of rebellion
I made a list of fantasies for you. Put your burdens down, read through to see what lands. Reclaiming your desires is a radical act. Let's do it anyway. 🤗
Read through, check what lands. You don't have to name it. I'll do it for you.
I'm drawn to someone who has seen it all, has lived and lost things I haven't had to yet, and still chooses me, because I'm that worth choosing.
I'm into people who run the show, and I would give anything to put it all down for just an hour and let it happen to me. Choices can be exhausting.
I want to be protected and looked after by someone with gentle authority.
My alter ego wants to be soft. Silly. Completely without responsibility. To be taken care of, fully, by someone who wants to.
I don't need a therapist to explain it. I just need to be called a good girl.
Tie me up. Hold me down. Submitting completely is such a relief. I just want to put my burdens down and let someone take it from here for a little while.
I enjoy calling the shots. My pleasure comes from my partner's. I'm in charge for them, not over them. I know the rules. I know what this will do to them. That knowledge is the whole thing.
I enjoy calling the shots. My pleasure comes from my partner's. I'm in charge for them, not over them. I know the rules. I know what this will do to them. That knowledge is the whole thing.
I don't want to be me right now. I want to be them, the student, the employee, the one who just got called into the office. The costume is half the point.
I can get really stuck in my head. The hard impact of skin on skin brings me back into my body. It feels good to be in my body.
Maybe I was disciplined as a kid. Maybe I wasn't. Either way, I enjoy "good" pain, but only when I feel completely safe.
I enjoy inflicting pain, physical or emotional, but I'm not a bad person. I do it safely, consensually, with a partner who enjoys receiving what I like giving.
Sex and thrill is the ultimate experience. That's why I like to play with fire.
Sex with teeth. Knowing that the sharp edge might break my skin makes me come and come and come.
Take away one sense and every other one wakes up. I can't see anything. I can feel everything.
I want raw, unprotected connection. Going against societal norms, being more intimate, feels primal and deeply erotic.
I like watching others. Or myself, in a mirror.
My alter ego likes performing for others. It's hot.
I just get there quicker with words.
Just thinking about someone's mouth on nipples makes me squirm. The pulling. The biting. The sucking. That's the whole explanation.
I compensate for my respectable, buttoned-up life with a more humiliating fantasy life. I don't have low self-esteem. I just crave balance.
I enjoy sharing my partner, maybe even being humiliated by it. My self-esteem is fine. Oddly, orchestrating my own humiliation is how I take power back. And it brings me closer to them.
I enjoy being shared by my partner, maybe even humiliating them in the process. I love my partner. It's not what you're thinking.
I'm turned on by being "taken" by my partner, safely, pre-agreed, fully consensual. It helps me process feelings of powerlessness. It puts me back in the driver's seat of my own fantasy.
I like to explore an alternate identity. Sometimes in a different body. I find deep belonging in shared worlds and shared instincts. The warmth. The safety. The absence of pretense.
Available. Always. My time is my own everywhere else.
The risk is the point. The almost-getting-caught is the point.
Being penetrated with a strap-on is pleasing, but the fantasy of bucking societal norms is pretty pleasurable too.
More love, more pleasure, more is more. It doesn't make me immoral, just hungry for more physical touch and variety.
