The Importance of Sexual Power
Since my early teens, I have carried a sense of shame for being interested in and enjoying sex. I come from a family (and culture) where sex is not openly discussed, and it has taken some considerable effort, discomfort, and re-learning to understand what sexual power means to me and how I can harness it for my overall empowerment.
Two friends and I were recently discussing sexuality and what it meant to us. I had already figured out that sexuality felt inextricably linked to my ability to create. Since I started paying attention to this kind of thing, I have noticed that: when I have been lacking access to partnered, fulfilling sex in my life, I have found it more difficult and sometimes near impossible to be creative and to focus. Sex is on my brain! On the flip side, when I’m having fulfilled, partnered sex, I am able to be more creative and spend a lot less time thinking about sex.
Solo sex is always something I’ve paid less attention to when I’m having regular partnered sex too. But one of my friends pointed out something that has changed how I’ll think about my sexual energy forever – that it is mine to nurture and should not be dependent on whether I can access partnered sex or not. I realised that, in some past situations, I had essentially passed responsibility for my sexual energy to another person, expecting them to be the guardian of my sexuality and meet my needs. I wouldn’t dream of passing responsibility for my other needs onto someone else, e.g., my need for food, water, sleep. That is what sexual energy feels like to me: a need. This is not to say that everyone views it in the same way, and I know multiple people who do not engage with sexuality in this way for all kinds of reasons, but I share from my own experience.
So, what even is sexual power?
I spoke to queer intimacy facilitator and Somatic Sex Educator at Quintimacy, Beck Thom, who said: “Sexual power sounds like something loud and big. But sexual power can be quiet, understated. It can be both an inner experience and one that happens in intimate relational moments. It can be in the revelation of knowing and asking for what we want. It can be through finding our NO and finding our YES. And it can be intentionally cultivated and turned towards. As a facilitator of queer and trans-centred sex education and workshops [Quintimacy®] I witness how this quiet work can open up access to loud and big experiences if people want them!”
I know from my own experience as a queer, non-binary person that exploring sex has had a huge impact on all areas of my life. This includes: learning more about consent, how to communicate boundaries and how to ask for what I need (knowing that I may not always get my needs met).
In the month leading up to the deadline for this article, I decided to set out to understand more about my sexual power and what it means to me. At first, I thought perhaps I should buy a new sex toy, make more time for solo sex or interview people to find out what it means to them. All these things happened, and all were useful.
Over this same period, I went from being in an 8-month queer, monogamous relationship to being single. I’d spent a lot of time thinking about sexual power before the break-up, but then I noticed a shift in my energy. With processing and grieving to be done, sex was the last thing on my mind. But I had already made plans.
I had booked an appointment with Stella Sonnenbaum, a Certified Sexological Bodyworker and Sex Educator. We spent an hour together exploring what sexual power means to me. It was an unexpectedly emotional session. As I tuned into the sensations in my body, I felt an incredible sense of loneliness and sadness. With tears streaming down my face, I heard an inner voice that said, “You haven’t looked after me.” This confirmed what I already knew: that I had too readily handed responsibility for my sexual power over to others. [It might be relevant to mention here that my relationship with my body and therefore sex has been bound up in eating disorders, trauma, and dissociation. It’s something I’ve spent the last 5 years trying to work through.] Through a combination of breathing, connecting with my body and following the sensations, Stella was able to guide me through a session that left me feeling calm and as though I had let out some long pent-up emotions.
Something I found fascinating was an exercise where I was encouraged to bring my awareness to different parts of my genitals – the anus, vagina, and clitoris. As someone with a history of being very disconnected from my body, it felt really good to be able to feel into parts of my body I would only usually connect with during sex, and even then, I would often be in my head.
After the session, I reflected on how it was no surprise that I had felt disconnected from my sexual power in the past, given my different intersecting identities. People have assumed that, as a bisexual person, I am insatiable, greedy, even predatory when it comes to sex. A quick read about biphobia or a chat with a bisexual person will tell you these are the stereotypes we live with – we can’t pick a side, we’re attracted to everyone, we can’t control ourselves, etc.
Another element is having been socialised as a girl and the shame that comes with being seen to enjoy sex ‘too much’, to know what you like and be able to articulate it, even when it makes others feel uncomfortable or highlights to them that they can’t do the same. Add to that being a fat person and the way that society often de-sexualises fat people and makes us think we should be grateful for any sex we can get, it’s no wonder I have a complex relationship with sexual power – as do many people and for multiple reasons.
Over the past few years, I have dated and had a lot of sexual experiences that have helped me understand myself better. I know, for example, that disconnected sex is not something I’m interested in. It’s easy to find people to have sex with on Tinder etc. but, to find connected sex where people are able to talk openly and honestly about their desires, boundaries etc. is so empowering. I also know that feeling safe in sex is really important to me. Knowing that someone understands and respects consent = an enthusiastic yes.
Queer culture has helped me open up to this side of myself much more. I’m learning to harness my sexual power, not just to support me in my creativity, but as part of being as authentically myself as possible. I really enjoy sex and I really enjoy expressing that part of myself. I don’t want to be ashamed of it anymore, and so, I’m thankful to have set out on this exploration of sexual power and what it means to me.
There’s still so much to discover!
Written by Gem Kennedy
Gem Kennedy (they/them) is a transformational practitioner, facilitator, activist and podcaster. Gem is passionate about supporting people to discover and live a life they love and runs a 1:1 coaching practice supporting LGBTQIA+ and/or neurodivergent folks working to bring about social change. As a queer parent, Gem also works to support parents, carers and teachers to feel confident supporting young people as they navigate LGBTQIA+ issues.
Gem’s podcast, Queer and Co, can be found on Spotify.
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