Some of you may remember me from last semester, the face of "Oh My! Sex Straight Up." Well, this is a new semester and a new year, and I think that merits a new column. Yes, for those of you who are worried, frank, honest thoughts on sex and relationships will still be a part of my column. But after a month's hiatus from writing, I got to thinking about what I wanted to do differently this semester.
This all began over Thanksgiving break. I was talking to my dad and his girlfriend about an article in the Atlantic Monthly about college sex columnists. I was frustrated by the way the article's author had depicted "us," the (mostly) female sex columnists of this country's universities. To the author, we are nothing more than wannabe Carrie Bradshaws, drawing on what little experience we have and passing it off as legitimate advice. That was incident number one.
Next time I got to thinking, it was New Year's Eve. I was at my best friend's house with her family and some of their friends. I don't remember how, but the contents of my column came up and I began to blush uncontrollably. I was immediately furious at myself. Why was I ashamed of something that had gotten such a positive response on campus? Why would I hide such an accomplishment, a project that I take such pleasure in, from adults that I care about and respect?
Well of course, it's because my column is about sex. And we, as a society, don't talk about sex. At least not the way I want to, and did in "Oh my!" Instead, we tiptoe around sex, making innuendos and jokes, blushing and hiding from what we really want to say and ask. And that's when I realized why it was that I had been writing.
I don't see my column as a space for me to preach my experiences as authoritative or normal. In fact, I think of it in rather opposite way. I enjoy writing about things that we don't often talk about openly as a society because I think we should talk about them. Sex of all kinds, whether stemming from love, carnal impulses, forbidden lust or casual dating, can be wonderful. In fact, I believe the sensation of experiencing one's body and its capacity for pleasure, whether alone or with another body (or two, or three, or...) is one of the greatest gifts we are given as human beings.
How are we expected to have intimate, sensual, pleasurable, safe and passionate sexual experiences in our lives if we force ourselves to filter our thoughts and keep quiet about our actions and questions? Why is the pleasure I get from sexual experiences considered more
vulgar, more taboo than the pleasure I get from a perfect ice cream cone on a warm spring day?
Why do we separate the pleasure that we get from taste, sight, sound, scent and some types of touch from the sensuality connected to sex? Why do we so openly write about, talk about, sing about, and dream about love, and yet when it comes to sex - such an integral part of many relationships, whether committed or open, heterosexual or homosexual - we shut up?
Dammit, I was proud of my last column. I was proud of myself for writing it, and I was even prouder of the people who came up to me or e-mailed me with questions and comments about the topics discussed in the column. I was proud of all the people in VOX who took part in contributing to the column for giving a voice to the sexual experiences that we - especially we young, curious, vivacious, college students - crave, seek and participate in.
This semester's column may be a little different. The frankness of the column will remain, but I can't promise that sex will always be the topic of discussion. I want to explore the taboos that surround pleasure of all kinds, raise questions about why we are so silent, and commend those who have dared to speak up and begin the discourse.
So to those whom I was ashamed to admit my column's contents to, here's what I have to say: I am a young, smart, feisty woman who has sexual experiences, thoughts, questions, and sometimes even rants. Imagine that! And I'm not going to pretend to be quiet about it anymore.
