Sexuality of a Woman

Gandhi wisely said, "Be the change you wish to see in the world."
For someone who loves arguing as much as I do, it is not always so simple to follow his advice. Although I choose my battles as carefully as I can, there are some things that I can't just sit back and watch or listen to- I feel an immediate overpowering desire to fight it. One of those things is the repression of women's sexuality. As soon as I hear the words- usually coming from a man, but you'd be surprised how often they come from women- "There are two types of women in the world, the ones you marry, and the ones you fuck," or, "A woman who sleeps with a man too quickly is a slut who has no self-respect," I can feel the blood rush up to my head.
I'm in Brazil right now, where, in my opinion, this happens much more often- but maybe people just say it out loud more often, who knows, and last night I went out to dinner with some friends, among them an ex-boyfriend, and a huge discussion regarding this topic exploded. The aforementioned statements were presented as truths and, although the men at the table agreed that it was a cultural imposition of a sexist nature, they still believed in them. It did not end well, and I was very upset by it.

I wish the sex education I received in my life had told me that I would enjoy sex. That I would enjoy it a lot. That I SHOULD enjoy it, and that if I didn't, I should figure out what was missing, I should get to know myself sexually. Although sometimes in magazines I would read about how masturbating was healthy and sex (safe safe safe sex) was wonderful, that information paled in comparison to how rigorously I was taught that I needed to worry about pregnancy and STD's even before I took my clothes off with a guy, that I had to make absolute certain he was the right guy, the perfect guy, and that I shouldn't ever ever be too "easy". The equation was simple- if I turned into one of those girls who was "easy", I would never have a boyfriend again, I would not have many girlfriends, my parents would disown me, I would get pregnant and maybe even die.

So here's what happened. I turned 13 and started going to parties and kissing boys in dark corners, and it felt so good, I mean it felt so so good, that I found myself terribly, tragically confused. I was suddenly having thoughts like, "I hope he touches my boobs," and then when the boy tried I knew I had to slap his hands away and scold him otherwise I would be labeled a slut. I did my best, I did my very best, to be a good girl. To be the kind of girl guys want to marry. But it didn't make any sense, it felt like a complete lie, and I was secretly terrified they would find out how, in my head and when I was alone, I was not a good girl at all.
At 16, I met the guy I mentioned earlier (whom I had a huge discussion with last night- go figure), and he full-heartedly believed I was a good girl. He became my first serious boyfriend, and I figured he was the right guy to lose my virginity to. I played the part of the good girl to an exhausting extent- making sure to set limits in our sexual progression so that he wouldn't lose interest in me. At 17 I lost my virginity to this boyfriend who loved the good girl I had projected. The people I told seemed to approve. No one asked me if I was having orgasms, if I was enjoying the sex, if I was in love with him, if I felt good about it. They asked me if I was being safe and told me it was a good choice, he was the right guy to do it with.
The next phase came in college, when I tried to reject the good girl mask as much as possible. I was living in the U.S. now and attending Sarah Lawrence, so it was easier- maybe, again, who knows. But something wasn't right. I didn't want to treat men like they were disposable and I didn't want to be treated like I was disposable. I wondered why a guy thought he didn't have to respect me because he was "just" having sex with me. I was still confused, but felt a little less repressed than I did as a teenager in Brazil.
Then I started a fling with a wonderful man who seemed to get it (he was raised by a feminist and went to Sarah Lawrence after all); there are not two types of women. Every woman wants to fuck and every woman wants to get married! It was a gift. Through his understanding of women and sexuality, I started to understand myself as a woman and my own sexuality. Although we were monogamous, we were causal. And although we were causal, we were respectful. I could explore my sexuality with him without him ever disrespecting me or for a moment thinking I was not "worthy of marriage". He came into my life at the right time, and when he left, I met another man and I fell in love. Things got confusing again, because although I was in love with him, he and I never made love, and although he was much older than the other guy, he was way inferior in bed.
But that's just part of life. I see now that what I had to learn from him had nothing to do with sex. I would, later on, experience making love with someone I was in love with, and would learn that people in love can also fuck like pornstars and still want to spend the rest of their lives together afterwards. I met several more men who "got it" and treated me with the respect I demanded and deserved, whether we were in a relationship or not, while allowing me to be as sexual and impulsive as I wanted to be. I am always grateful to the universe for sending me these men.
But there are still a lot of men, and women, who don't get it. Last night I couldn't help myself and I tried, in vain I think, to shift the consciousness I was dealing with. I know that it's not up to me to change people, though, and I can only hope that one day life will teach them that repressing a woman's sexuality serves no one. Women can not be categorized. Women may be complicated, but in this area I present you the simplest equation, the "... us" equation:
Love us, Free us, Hold us, Fuck us, Need us, Marry us, Make Love to us and, above all, Respect us.