Uncut Jems: Self-Advocacy is Sexy

By Taylor Neal

I'm 25. I've been sexually active for over ten years now and over this period my sexuality has fluctuated and changed almost as many times as my hairstyle. However, one thing remains certain; a decade into my sexual journey, I can assure you that if I had known much earlier that my role didn't always have to be the pleaser and the receiver, my sexual history would look a lot different. 

I was born and raised very much a "girl." When I first became sexually active, I was an intimidated, shy, and often passive partner. My sexual identity and the way I viewed sex were determined in relation to boys and men and their pleasure, and I was dominated by the need to be desirable. I knew what they wanted — it's not that hard to figure out what men want when you're trained on it from early childhood the way girls and women are. I integrated these male wants and fantasies into who I was and how I performed sexually from the very first time I had sex right through to adulthood, and this, I believed, was the extent of my sexual identity. 

I use the word "performed" because much of what we do as femme people during sex is performance. It's for the audience, the partner(s), and we do it in pursuit of desirability and the accomplishment of blowing the other person's mind — fulfilling their sexual fantasies. This is how we are taught to measure our worth. 

I have had a lot of different sex, and a lot of times, I have simply moved through the motions in ways I know have satisfied in the past. In reflecting on sexual experiences after they'd happen, my definition of good sex was always based on whether, first and foremost, I fulfilled the needs of my partner in as many ways as I could. 

Did I surprise them? Did I make them feel seen and sexy and confident? Did I do everything right? 

At the same time, I'd find myself relatively underwhelmed. Rarely would I spend much time reflecting on these same questions for myself because when I did, I'd usually be disappointed, left wondering what the experience would have been like had I spoken my truth and told my partner what I wanted in the moment — instead of just going along with what was happening — and finding ways to make it enjoyable for myself.

There have been so many times that I've finished having sex thinking, "That was good," and then realized that I'd settled for good once again when I knew all along what I needed in order for it to be great, for both of us.

How often do we know exactly what we want and need but shy away from communicating this for fear of seeming needy, demanding, or, my favourite, crazy? 

How many of us have found ourselves in the middle of sex with someone, perhaps someone we really want to be having sex with, knowing exactly what we want in that moment, something our bodies would be over the moon to receive from our partner, and yet we don’t say anything? We don’t want to upset them, or for them to think they’re not pleasing us. We wouldn’t ever want to offend or cause discomfort, so we keep our mouths shut and go along with what’s already happening because we know our partner likes it, so we can be okay with it too.

For clarity's sake, I am strictly referring to consensual sex in this article. That is sex that I wanted to have, at the moment it happened, with the person I was having it with and took active part in. Though self-advocacy should start way before sex begins, I am talking here about self-advocacy during sex, or rather, the self-advocacy that should be happening during sex. 

The reality is, both inside and outside the bedroom, many of us strive for a cool and easy-going identity in relationships, as this is the path of least resistance and confrontation — and the least amount of work for our partner. 

Have you ever heard the phrase, "Oh, she's so cool, man, she's just like one of the guys"? Nine times out of ten, the "she" that's being referred to is a woman or femme-identifying person who has come to understand that the less she speaks her truth or shares her feelings, the more desirable she’ll be to men. She's "cool" precisely because she doesn't complain, doesn't question, doesn't get too emotional, and therefore doesn't cause anyone any additional effort to be around. 

To be frank, "people-pleasing" and "easy-going" are not going to lead you to fulfilling, expansive sexual experiences. As with anything else in life, there is a time to flow and a time to be direct. I'm not saying it's simple. To advocate for yourself, first you must feel safe, and then it takes a lot of practice to use your voice during sex when you've never been told that it's sexy to do so.

Maybe there have been times when you've been asked directly by your partner what you want sexually. Perhaps, once you've finally been granted the space to express yourself, you suddenly can't think of any answer at all. 

Unfortunately, when we're not practicing using our voice, it can catch us off guard to be asked to share, especially in the heat and passion of the moment. It can be so much easier to respond with an "Oh, you're doing great, this is fine, I don't want anything else," than it is to stop for a moment and think about a fulfilling, truthful answer that could potentially bring more expansive experiences along with it. 

This is because we are taught to believe that "fine" is all we can expect, all we deserve. 

There is a lot of shame and guilt that can come with asking for things in the context of sex. It can feel vulnerable, tender and delicate to use our voices, and because of this, we might feel it's better, or more comfortable, to leave things how they are than to risk losing what's already good. "Why fix what isn't broken?" we may think to ourselves. 

We may not always know how our partners will react to certain requests, or perhaps there are feelings of shame attached to our fantasies, kinks or desires. Or maybe we just don't want to imply that we're bored by what's already happening. We don't want to hurt our partners by asking for change, but at the same time, we are hurting ourselves by not speaking our truths.

Well, friends, I am here to tell you that you deserve not only to survive but to thrive in all areas of life, especially in your sexuality. You deserve to have your needs met and surpassed in the way that you hope to do for your partner(s), and that starts with having a voice. It starts with taking off your people-pleasing mask and dropping the performance. It begins with self-advocacy. 

While many may read this and think all this self-advocacy stuff sounds nice and makes sense, integrating these practices into our sex lives is a whole other journey. Often, when things are getting hot and heavy, it can be difficult to switch things up, especially if you're having sex with a partner with whom you've developed a rhythm or routine. 

We don't want to ruin the mood or catch our partner off guard, so how do we start practicing self-advocacy if we've never tried it in this intentional, committed way before? My suggestion to you is to make it fun. Turn it into a game, challenge or competition. Invite play into your sexuality and in doing so create the space for the new and the exciting — without the intimidation that can come with expressing that you need more or, simply, something else. 

Below is a game that can be played between partners to ask for what you want. It will feel uncomfortable at first, perhaps a bit sticky or awkward and hard to take seriously, but that is the beauty of a game – it doesn't have to be serious. Have fun with it, move through the awkwardness and the cringy-ness together and see what comes up between you as things progress. I promise you will learn something about one another if you give this an honest, whole-hearted try. 

Approach Me

One partner sits, perhaps on the edge of a couch or a bed, and the other partner stands across the room. The concept is simple: The standing partner should approach the sitting partner. That's it. 

The catch, however, is that the sitting partner has to instruct the standing partner every step of the way. Each move, each step, each bit of clothing removed must be clearly asked for by the sitting partner until the standing partner has fully approached the sitter — whatever that means to you. (Could mean they are just in front of you, on top of you, or rubbing up on you, sitter's choice!) 

I have played this from both roles with different partners, and each time I gain something new from the experience; how to take instruction and let myself be guided, and then on the flip side, how to give orders and release the politeness and nervousness that comes up when we (as femme folks) get a little assertive. 

After that, the game can develop as you like. You can choose to keep the dynamic going or release the game once you and your partner have connected. However, the idea is that by starting with simple requests, you will develop the ability to clearly communicate what you want in a context removed from the heat and pressure of physical intimacy that's already underway.

Of course, make sure to communicate boundaries before beginning this practice. We cannot fully enter into expansive play if our bodies are not fully able to relax. Agree on a safe word or a way to communicate prior to the practice so that if/when something comes up during the exercise that doesn't feel right or needs to be addressed, all parties involved are able to respond accordingly. And while I've encouraged moving through the discomfort and awkwardness, there is a difference between this and forcing yourself into something that simply feels wrong. Always trust your body; your body knows best! 

And have fun! Know that advocating for yourself will always bring you closer to your truth and your most elevated state of being. Trust that by honouring your needs, you will be calling in experiential abundance and fulfillment in a way that supports your full potential. You are recognizing your worth. And honestly, asking for what you want is much sexier than going with the flow. It allows your partner to learn and grow with you, and from here, you can expand together. 

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Taylor Neal (she/they) is a Canadian multi-disciplinary artist, writer, podcaster and sex worker's advocate support worker, Taylor strives to dive deeply into the endless complexity that is raw, authentic human experience. They are committed to an ongoing exploration of intimacy, sexuality, and how humans can foster loving relationships with their bodies. They strive to offer this space with their teachings, art and writing.