Seeing Sexuality Differently After Having It Hushed All My Life
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I grew up learning about sex from the books I read and the hushed conversations that followed in school later. I say sex and not intimacy, but there’s only so much intimacy featured within media and pop culture. Intimacy comes from people - and the people around me seemed to have no idea what it meant. To me, personally, sexuality and intimacy go hand in hand. There is something deeply intimate about the concept of understanding and sharing your innermost desires. But far from physically exploring it, I had to shut down even the little questions that were raised in my head so strictly that it didn’t even leave room to think about those questions again.
Being a Muslim and a Pakistani, I grew up learning that the very idea of my womanhood was policed around me. Sex in brown families is not something I could ever find explanations for, yet you’re supposed to know everything on your wedding night. When I was finally in my own space at university, where I felt I could speak without being judged or genuinely ask questions, I came to understand what owning my sexuality meant. Talking about it meant I was claiming it as mine, something that is completely unacceptable for brown Muslim women. But I’ve always wondered why I had to see something that was so intimately mine more in relation to a man I had yet to meet.
The very idea of having a sex drive is assumed to be limited solely to men. I also noticed that allowing only men to own their sexuality was a scarily unequal dynamic that gave men a certain control over women who had no idea what they were getting into. Being open about my sexuality is about so much more than the idea of sex itself. It comes with ownership of my own body and my choices. It’s a stand against the idea that it is more acceptable for strangers to discuss the most intimate parts of yourself than it is for you to do so.
“Being open about my sexuality is about so much more than the idea of sex itself. It comes with ownership of my own body and my choices. ”
With my opening up to my questions and curiosity came an idea that was a lot more alien, but one that wasn’t altogether unpleasant. When I began to accept and openly claim my sexuality - in the most mundane, everyday ways - that I also began to question it, if someone asks, I’ll still say I’m straight. But that’s because most people I know would freak out if I said anything else, and partly because I’m still not sure how to label myself. I’ve only ever been in one relationship, and while that was with a man, I’ve been questioning my sexuality a lot more as I come to understand it. It’s more than just labelling myself differently. I know that I have a fluidity and a desire to explore if possible and find out what works for me. That need for exploration has always been and still is, shut down in South Asian communities. But I genuinely believe you can’t curb what is so deeply yours to have and love and cherish. By shunning sexuality, it seems to come out in the most uncomfortable ways. In questions half answered, forced conversations ended too soon, and relationships tiptoe around what you want.
I’m still not ready to tell people I know that I’ve been questioning my sexuality. But I’ve started bringing it up with close friends, so that’s a step. Maybe it’s the years of shame around the idea or just fear of acceptance, but for now - even my openness has its limits. I hope I can find the courage to move beyond them.
“In questions half answered, forced conversations ended too soon, and relationships tiptoe around what you want. ”
