Trauma & Sensuality: Taking Back Your Right To Pleasure
ALICE // ig: @mistress.r03e and @_baked_beanzz_
My bodily autonomy has been disregarded at least once every single year of my life. I have been assaulted, disabled, manipulated… disillusioned.
In 3rd grade, I was diagnosed with Tourette’s Disorder. 4th grade and I was afraid to eat ever again because I once choked on a popcorn kernel without any water to drink nearby. 5th grade was inappropriate butt grabs. 6th grade, Fresh Diet cheesecakes. 7th, fat camps and shame. 8th, scoliosis diagnosis. 9th, scoliosis surgery. 10th, my first time being sexual coerced! Yay! 11th, condom sabotage and suicide attempts. 12th, sexual assault. Gap year, sexual assault. College, forcible penetration by a stranger.
Yesterday… rape. Yes, yesterday. You heard that right. Yesterday.
What’s next? What if it happens again? When will this madness ever end?
I often find myself impatiently waiting for the shoe to drop, terrified that more bodily harm and disregard for my being is coming my way -- whether it be forced upon me by natural causes or real live human beings. Real people who want to take away my right to self. And that is why I share everything out loud to the world -- online, in real life, to strangers, to family. Nobody will silence me. Nobody can own me. Nobody can control me. I choose what people get to see of me. I am a proud exhibitionist, in fact. I rant about BPD and my life story on a regular basis. I choose what they get to see in me. This way if I can’t control what’s next, I can at least control what’s now. As I begin on my journey of not giving a fuck about other people’s opinions, I have also began to do whatever the fuck I want.
What I post and say is my business.
But it’s yours now too.
Retweet.
This article is relevant because it’s so raw. The real truth. Real pain. Real love. Real stories. So, please, take a moment out of your day to hear us. The only way these cycles ever end is if we choose to listen.
ALEX // ig: @alexander_ciel
Sex parties have played an essential role in reconnecting with my body after having experienced both trauma and dysphoria. There are plenty of safety measures (rules of consent, dungeon masters, vetting, etc) in place to protect the attendees. These parties give me a space to be unapologetically me, to discover myself on my own terms and above all, to exist freely. All the things I used to be too afraid to experiment with in the outside world are acceptable and welcomed there. I am now able to truly explore my sexuality because of it. Plus, everyone is so accepting there! Regardless of my appearace -- whether that be masc, femme or androgynous -- I know my gender and pronouns will be respected in these spaces. It is truly a judgement-free zone.
SABRINA // ig: @borderlinebadgal
Trauma is an out-of-body experience. My mind dissociates to protect me from the impact and takes me outside of myself every time it revisits me.
Having Borderline Personality Disorder can feel like navigating an open field full of landmines. Explosions included. Inevitably, you’ll step on one and trigger an immediate trauma response, shattering all sense of security. It leaves me in a war zone with myself, feeling numb, disconnected, scared, unable to trust and vulnerable.
Therapy has helped me with finding creative ways back to myself. It has allowed me to explore myself in a safe space, to rebuild connection and understanding that trust, love and healthy relationships are not a foreign concept. Some ways I have found to be really helpful in reconnecting to my body, has been water for immediate relief, like cold showers. Soft belly breathing, to soothe my nervous system. Moving, just moving my body in any way that feels good. Honestly, sometimes I also just do nothing, I try to visualize riding the emotion like surfing a wave until it passes. Honouring and practicing mind - body connection, creates power. No matter how exhausting it is, I am determined to never give up, and always find my way back home to myself.
NAR // ig: @bobbyflayismean
I’ve been body shamed my whole life. My mom has drawn attention to how I look since I was young, squeezing my fat and ridiculing me for my outfits. When I'm just in undies at home, my mom will draw attention to how big and fat my pussy is. She even grabs it sometimes (yike) and I’ve told her I don’t like that but she just finds it funny. I noticed it held me back for the longest when it comes to my sexuality whether it’s by myself or with others. Since coming out as nonbinary, I haven’t really felt as much pressure to look a certain way or to be found attractive by others as I used to. Being open with who I am has allowed me to reevaluate and view my body in more than just a feminine way, which of course carries its own stigmas.
Not having a relationship with my dad really affected me in the past. I know now that I don’t need a father figure or any male-like figure in my life… because I can be that figure for myself. Overall, since coming out, I've felt much more in tune with my own body. It’s my body! I’m not holding back any cards.
I was so confused about my gender before that I wasn’t able to stay 100% present with myself. But now my confidence has boosted. I can look however I want to, I can take on whatever role I want to and I can experience pleasure however I want to. I can be whoever I want to be, proudly.
SAM // ig: @shrimpteeth
Polyamory has given me the opportunity to practice communicating more honestly. It’s forced me to be more open with my partners including how we talk about sex. Polyam has more complex requirements for how you negotiate and discuss sex (for example, the expectations of multiple pals regarding STI safety and pregnancies).
Having those discussions frequently makes me feel more comfortable and confident when talking about sex. It’s opened up my ability to talk with my partners about what I want. I’ve started being far more explicit about discussing my desires which isn’t something that I’d been able to do before. I think I became afraid to prioritize my needs after experiencing sexual violence. I felt like being triggered during sexual activity with my pal was a sign I was being “too difficult”. Instead of just stopping and saying “hey I need a break”, I would shut down and dissociate. That’s not the type of sexual interactions I wanted to have with my pals but I didn’t know how to talk about it. I didn’t know that it was ok to need time and aftercare and breaks during intimacy. I didn’t know I could ask my pals for that.
Practicing intimacy with multiple pals reinforced that it was common to have experienced trauma from sexual violence, and made it a priority to talk about it. Having worked on improving my communication, and being open and vulnerable with my pals makes it easier to talk about some of the more difficult topics. I realized that by fostering a zero-tolerance attitude towards sexual violence with my pals, and being supportive and compassionate about experienced trauma, we all benefited.
I now really value constructing safety in my intimate relationships and continue to strive to be more open and direct with my communication. This is all a learning process and I’m not always able to talk about it with the confidence and vulnerability I wish I could. But I continue to try and give myself permission to need specific support from pals to ensure we’re practicing intimacy that feels good for us.
Healing from trauma is unfortunately difficult work. I can’t lie and say that talking to my pals about my needs, desires, triggers, and experiences with sexual assault has been easy but it’s helped me heal from some of that hurt. It’s also made me realize that recovery isn’t linear and I’m allowed to not be ok sometimes. I’m better able to talk openly with my pals about my specific requirements. I’m realizing my needs are my own rather than a reflection of them. That’s been absolutely pivotal in my ability to connect with my body in a way that feels safe to me.
At the end of the day, polyam is just a relationship structure. These discoveries can happen within monogamous relationships too. But in my experience, polyam forced me to confront the lingering issues I’d been scared to deal with when I wasn’t open. And it gave me the chances to practice radical honesty, which were skills I was lacking before.
ANDRES
Honestly for me a big part of recovery has been through healthy
relationships. My most toxic, abusive relationship was immediately followed by my most healthy one, with Axel. Going from someone who would abuse me to someone who not only respects me, but teaches me to respect myself was incredibly powerful.
That’s love.
I haven’t ever really explored recovery in regards to family. Not yet, at least. I’m still in a bad situation with them and I’m quite far from reconnecting positively with myself after all of that because things haven’t gotten better.
ANONYMOUS
When mediating the connection between the ways I experienced trauma and sexuality, I felt myself becoming robot-like and stripped of emotions.
I was able to have sex with other men, but was just going through the motions of what they wanted and bypassing any affection and desire that would make ME feel good. I would sometimes pretend to feel when I really was spaced out. I would distance myself in fear of becoming too close or appearing dependent. Maintaining this distance would give me a false sense of control, even though in reality things were not in control.
However, I have found that acting on my own sexual curiosities has opened new doors for me and allowed me to take back control. Without knowing it, I realized I was actually out of touch with what I feel and what I want from my sexual desires. Over the past year, I have been exploring ways of broadening my sexual behaviors. I had my first threesome, and not long after I had a foursome. I embarked on both of these new sexual endeavors with close friends of mine—both females. I took the approach of making a gradual shift in my sexual lifestyle, and by doing so helped me expand my boundaries but also establish new limits.
Since being in quarantine, obviously I have been void of physical sexual contact for these past two months. Rather than dwelling on the lack of direct intimacy, I have been using my Je Joue G-Spot Bullet Vibrator (p.s. not sponsored!) to further explore my own body and delve deeper into a new sexual realm. Honoring my own process of exploration has made me feel more free, confident, and secure in my sexuality.
CHARMEE // ig: @charmeeifyoudare
I came out a little over a year ago, it was one of the best and worst experiences I've had in my adult life. I felt like as soon as I got the language to articulate that I like men, women and genders between, I was finally free. I could finally live out who I was and stand proud in that. After coming out I had a family member take me aside and say "I don't want you to think that you are bi because of the trauma that you experienced as a child". I felt like I was hit by a truck. Was I just performing my new found sexulity becasue of my repressed fear of men? Did I feel more comfortable romantically and sexaully with women only because I had past trauma? The real question: was I really bi? This question kept spinning in my head over and over like I was a hamster on the spinning wheel. These questions consumed me, it was overwhelming. It was like my sexaulity was invalidated by my past sexual trauma, shame consumed me.
I also came out online very shortly after coming out to my family. Coming out online has been a whole different battle I’ve had to fight. It’s one thing to be out to your family and friends and it is a whole other thing to be out publicly so that others have full range to judge you. I’ve had family members say “If you’re bi what's the point of coming out, you date men just keep the rest a secret” or “people can use this against you for jobs, they will think that you are mentally ill”. I’ve even had ex’s, cis men, no surpirse there, that I’ve dated judge my queerness openly and think that it wouldn’t come back to me. What people don’t tell you is that coming out is a retraumatizing experience that many people don’t take seriously if you’re femme, they think your experiementing or riding the coattails of a trend. I constantly feel like I have to come out over and over and over again.
I grew up in a conservative small town where coming out never felt like an option for me. I was told at eleven years old that I was made for a man of God and I had to stay pure for that man and create a union with God for that man. As the only black girl in my school I just wanted to fit in so I signed a contract with God to be a woman of God and waited for my husband, I even wore a purity ring on my wedding finger and boasted about it in my middle school.
After coming out online I got countless DM’s from many people that read an article that I wrote for Salty but I also got people I knew come out of the woodworks. I call them “my deep cut christian friends”. They knew me when I was using the excuse of waiting until marriage to not have sex because I had so much sexual trauma in my past that the thought of being naked in front of someone gave me a panic attack. Of course they didn’t know that but people came up to me often and complimented me on my righteousness when really it was repression.
I have also been met with such beautiful connections from people in my past. I got a message from a girl that used to bully me often in high school who thanked me for coming out so publicly. It wasn't until she said she was married to a woman that it all made sense, why we had a toxic dynamic so many years ago. I had another friend from college come out to me and say she was in a queer relationship for years but found strength in me coming out online. I am so proud that at the most isolating and anxiety-riddled time in our lives, people can seek refuge in my words online.
I get told often to lower my voice to fit the heteronomative trends of Instagram. I get told that my trauma defines me, even my sexuality. I get told that I just want attention or I am not mentally stable, that expressing my queer desires is not savory. But the truth is the queer desire, love, sexuality is holy. It is a sacred act of the universe entrusting the queer warriors of the world to impart a pure act of love and not many people can process that. Coming out online has been a roller coaster because many people that I don't know judge, many people I do know judge. But my sexuality isn't going anywhere. My sexuality is a beautiful anointed act of God herself. I have come into my body knowing that my trauma is a part of my story but doesn't define me.
My queerness is mine and that act alone is a beautiful act of queer rebellion that I am so proud to be a part of.
ANONYMOUS
My story is quite simple. I started dating a boy who I have known for years and eventually after much drama and heartache we found our way to each other and started dating. I was with this boy for two years and I thought this was going to be the man I married eventually. I was in love with him and nothing could ever change that at the time. He was my best friend and someone who I loved deeply.
For my 21st birthday I decided to go away with a handful of friends. When we returned I saw a side of him I had never seen. We were having an argument and he decided to smack me across the face. When it happened I was in shock and in pain. My glasses broke and I couldn’t see in front of me. I was crying and heartbroken.
I never told my family what exactly happened because that would have ended our relationship for sure. I didn’t want that to happen at first. I blamed myself. But I wasn’t the problem. He was. He chose to hurt me.
He didn’t know how to love me the way I loved him. I am 100% better without him… no one deserves to be emotionally and physically abused.
After him and I broke up, I made it my mission to start working on myself. I feel a lot happier now and way less aggressive. I think my rage was something I held onto because it made me feel protected and strong. Now is my time to be strong for myself, without hurting myself (and others).
It took me a little time to get over him. However, during that time I came to realize that how I dressed, how I acted, and some opinions I had were SOLELY because of how he viewed things. To get my power back, I started wearing what I wanted. He hated when I used to wear -- Jordan’s (the sneakers) because he said it wasn’t lady-like. I busted out all my Jordan’s and wore them around proudly. My shoe game was strong and I got some many compliments.
I did have some hook ups here and there. I changed my views on hooking up as well. I didn’t approve in the past, but that was because my ex didn’t think it was okay. I have been single for the past 1 1/2 years and couldn’t be happier. I love myself sooo much more.
Focusing on myself and doing what I WANT is the best feeling in the world.
ANONYMOUS
Therapy has been so helpful. I’ve been going since October because I’m trans or non-binary and I’ve been in denial about it for years. I’m certainly not straight. I just told myself I was for a long time. I don’t know what I am. Bi, I guess? Maybe. I don’t know. I haven’t felt attraction at all in a while because I’m very uncomfortable in my own skin. When I had sex it was hollow and I was mostly just trying to convince myself I was normal and a guy when deep down I knew I wasn’t.
Anyway, having a space to vent out all those confusing feelings and emotions while simultaneously working through them in a confidential way with a professional… it’s truly a lifesaver. Besides therapy, it also helps to read and hear other people's stories. Obviously, no two people go through the same difficulties, but it's nice to know that you aren't alone in these feelings and that there are thousands out there who know what it's like and have been going through it for longer than I have. With dysphoria, it's really easy to feel alone and like what you have is some kind of condition of the unfortunate disease. By hearing and seeing other's stories, however, it gives me genuine hope that a happier life is possible… that there's a light at the end of this tunnel.
ARDEN // ig: @ardenwolf
Growing up I think makeup and looks were pointedly focused on the male gaze. The purpose was to make a woman look “pretty” for a man, but the point was not to over do it…
I think this narrative has changed A LOT with social media. Just look at the thousands upon thousands of people sharing their looks. Regardless of gender, makeup allows for self expression, and so people implement it while discovering their gender expression. For me, the movement has shown me that make up can be for self expression, rather than for covering up imperfections or to prove to someone else that I am attractive enough.
After the toxic Tumblr era (around 2013), where thigh gap, ultra skinny tanned body was the ideal for middle school aged girls, more body positive narratives started popping up in my life. I specifically remember seeing the instagram of @theslumflower a body positive activist who preaches the #SaggyBoobsMatter slogan and inspires thousands. I remember feeling a sense of shock that despite society’s ideal of having specific type of boobs, she was beautiful! A lot of this beauty is captured through her sense of confidence and not because she fit a category or body type.
Karley Sciortino is also another person who stands out to me. She’s a super cool feminist journalist and one of the first people I really noticed who talked openly about sexuality online.
I think I saw her first on Vice, where she does these stories on people‘s niche sexual fantasies and interviews them in a very respectful and informative way. She brings taboo into mainstream media without losing her soul.
We were taught growing up to say “ew” to anything that was different. Karley and so many other sex positive writers and influences have brought taboo into mainstream media, showing that sex and kinky sex especially is not so weird after all.
So many different topics like spirituality, sexuality, gender expression are more visible than ever to anyone who chooses to engage. As people still very much struggle with body positive and sex positivity from our deeply embedded patriarchal society and other traumas, it is helpful to know that other people are experimenting and being open about their inner conflicts and ways of overcoming, and embracing their true selves.
ISAIAH // ig: @islaya_official
Drag has allowed me to be liberated and confident in my body after experiencing the trauma that happens to many QPOC as children. As a child, I was always made to feel like there was something wrong with me.
My voice was too soft, my wrist was too limp, my hips swayed too much, etc. Drag is allowing me to take the power back in a way and celebrate those same qualities that I have always been condemned for.
There are so many black people who have died for me to be exactly who I am. There are so many queer people who have died for me to be exactly who I am. I stand on the shoulders of generations of people who dedicated their lives to ensuring a better tomorrow, and I commemorate their legacies by being unapologetically myself.
In this society, the bravery it takes to live an authentic life can still mean life or death, and the only way to change that narrative is to show the world that we are here.
We embrace our soft voices, limp wrists, and switching hips, and we live in our truths. I'm appreciative to work in a profession like drag that allows me to do just that. Drag is a vessel of change for me and I don't take the responsibility of being a drag queen lightly.
ANONYMOUS
During sex, our bodies connect (with ourselves or others) at our most vulnerable and human state - a state in which all feelings of pleasure and pain are experienced simultaneously. It is a time when we are the most unfiltered and honest version of our human selves. However, my childhood trauma robbed me of being able to imagine this connection, let alone actually experience it. On the contrary, the act of sex, whether it is solo play or with others, became a state of disconnection. Sex was a time when I could disconnect from my mind and body, disconnect from my memories, and disconnect from my past. During sex, I could finally stop feeling. I could finally become numb.
I have tried many ways and with many people to experience that connection, that euphoria, but I failed time and again. It took me a while to realize that if apathy towards sex started within me, it must also end within me. Over the last six months, I have been going out of my way to reconnect with my body. I have actually taken sex entirely out of the equation, not to deny myself but rather to construct a new beginning to my relationship with my body, one that was unfortunately ruined and stolen from me. At the end of every month, I use all the money that I have saved from not buying alcohol to treat myself in a healthy way: a spa, a massage, a facial and skincare products. I have also made it a point to spend 15 minutes every morning and evening to pamper my body by applying body lotions, oils, and creams. I am trying to reconfigure the way my body reacts to touch. I am trying to expose my body to touch that is loving and consensual rather than evil and selfish. I am trying to familiarize my body with “good” touch.
I have come to realize that recovery, most of the time, is very, very slow. And it is vital to be patient with yourself and your body. I have not yet felt confident enough to touch myself sexually or be touched by others in a sexual manner. For the first time, I am okay with that because I know that I am still learning, and I am still recovering. I am learning to love and trust myself and my body.
JENNA // ig: jenna.fliesen
By no means am I this open women who is ready to out right talk about her sex life, which I don’t even really have anyway, but I definitely think my trauma has influenced the way in which I give advice to others regarding sex and also how I behave in relationships.
My parents divorced when I was young, putting a dent into the way I view male role models in my life. Growing up without a father in the house led me to try to and fill the hole he had left with countless boyfriends who were, simply put, just as broken as me.
This constant puzzle piece replacement was only exemplified by my mother’s input. She really influenced the way I viewed sex. See, when you come from an Arab background, even the thought of kissing a boy is seen as a sacred act that you shouldn’t commit to until the day you get married. This allowed me to place these actions on a pedestal that I wouldn’t touch until I was ready to commit myself for life.
It took me a very long time to realize that pledging my virginity to my husband wasn’t something I was doing to him because he deserved it or because I owed him. For me, sex is an incredibly personal and vulnerable experience, so it would need to be done with someone who I have complete trust in. I personally believe this trust can be shown by the commitment behind marriage, but this is probably derived from the insecurities I have about my father.
It’s ironic how even with my friends who are far more sexual promiscuous then the average individual, I still attempt to exert this idea I have about what sex is and should be about to them. I give others what I feel is the best advice for them, but I also do this while patching onto it the advice I myself have been given throughout my life. Everyday, I question, and battle, what I believe is right for me and what my worlds want for me.
I have been doing a lot of the whole constantly-shifting relationship thing recently. I fill random men into my life in the hopes that it’ll make me whole.
With each prospective husband that I've talked to, there is always a fear that they will fit into one of two categories: a) willing to coerce and rush you into a marriage or b) aren’t willing to commit to you in any way shape or form.
It wasn’t until I met my most recent prospect that I realized this didn’t have to be the case. This new relationship dynamic has made me reanalyze the ways I communicate about marriage and overall, it has helped me be more laid back. Connecting with those I am interested in by placing friendship at the forefront, allows me time to build up trust before rushing towards the future.
Sex will always remain a taboo in my culture and in many others, but that doesn’t mean that I will let my trauma define the way I seek out happiness or the way I advise others too do so as well. My traumas will not shape me.
ANONYMOUS // ig: @thatgirlwithbpd
Sexual trauma took my body away from me. It became empty, a hollow shell, foreign. For years, my body never felt like mine - and even now there are times where it still doesn’t.
It felt like it belonged to all the men who had taken advantage of me, abused me, taken my bodily autonomy away from me. It belonged to the people who thought my outfit or state of mind meant consent. It belonged to the people who thought my childhood innocence was something to be taken advantage of.
Therapy is slowly helping me reconnect with the idea that this body is mine: my body to control, my body to do what I want with, and it doesn't belong to anyone but me.
In the past I would feel so disconnected from my own body that I felt like I couldn’t even go out in short dresses or skirts without it automatically meaning “consent”. That I couldn’t enjoy sex and kinks I was into because the body I was in wasn’t mine to enjoy. I so often used to feel sick, ashamed, disgusting for enjoying sex and being confident in myself. I felt trapped inside a foreign body.
It is an ongoing battle I have to fight everyday, to remind myself that it has always been mine, that nothing was ever an invite for someone to violate me and take the body that is meant to be my home away from me. I’m very lucky that my therapist completely acknowledges the affects of my sexual trauma, and helps me see that I belong to myself and no one else.
Over time, I’ve been able to accept that I am allowed to use my body in the ways I want to. That I don’t need to feel dirty for wearing a short dress, or having sex, or being a sexual person. That I can do absolutely anything I desire with this body I walk around in. That I don’t need anyone’s permission to use my body how I want.
Advice I would give to anyone who has been through sexual trauma, is firstly to be kind to yourself. You did not ask, or deserve what happened to you. Do not blame yourself. And secondly, do not be ashamed of your body, or your sexuality.
Sexual trauma can make it feel like you’re not allowed to be sexual, to have kinks, to liberate yourself in any which way you like because your body doesn’t feel like your own. But that is wrong, do not let that power take hold of you. You are just as entitled as anyone else to explore your body and sexuality.
Your body belongs to you, and only you.
ANONYMOUS
I really did try to write a response to this topic. My brain was so clouded and it sucks because I feel like I have so much to say on this topic but I am also still working on it and not entirely worked out. I haven't recovered from my trauma yet, and I'm still trying to take control of my body and soul and I still leave my body at times. I’m not there yet.
Receiving this prompt made me realize I have been avoiding a lot. I have repressed the thought that I still go through these issues and these challenges. My trauma has really crippled me and I haven't recovered yet. I’ve had small breakthroughs but i haven't had a full realization or discovery so far, and I honestly believe you bringing this question to me is going to help me advance and move forward. I want to explore my body and mind more consciously, so I just wanted to say thank you.
… AND NOW, SOME FINAL WORDS …
We are not all there yet. We are not all magically cured. We are all people. We all feel pain. And sometimes it feels like we’re stuck in it. Deeply stuck.
But you’re not alone.
If you are struggling at the moment with similar issues and need to be reminded of your self worth and/or just want to receive some really great advice, I recommend looking up these mental health advocates and therapists on Instagram (and of course, check out everyone who contributed to this article). Know that your self-love journey will have many highs and lows. It’s a process. It takes time. And it's beautiful. It’s human.
@whatsmybodydoing
@queersextherapy
@thebrooklynbruja
@whatswrongwithmollymargaret
@the.holistic.psychologist
@lindsaybraman
@thegrowtharc
@che.che.luna
@pusssywitch
@dlcanxiety
@thebraincoach
@mattxiv
@latibulecounseling
@asafeplaceinsideyourhead
@theunplugcollective
@emmazeck_
@the.vulva.gallery
@bpdcreativity
@buttonpoetry
@thesexualintellectual_
