#29: How I Unlearned Shame
An 80 year old's erotica writing taught me something about liberation
We all have stories we tell in whispers. Sometimes it’s about money, like how much we make, or how much we owe. Maybe the hushed stories are about family— who had an affair, or an inheritance that caused a rift. Or it could be about our bodies, like the medication we take, our health anxieties, or the ways we find pleasure.
My inbox is full of these whispers. “Sometimes I fantasize about watching my partner with someone else,” was confessed to me like they committed a crime. “Before we had kids, my husband and his best friend used to share me” someone else wrote in hesitant, lower case letters. The shame practically drips off their words, as though they’re sharing terrible secrets insead of confessing completely normal human experiences.
Which is why I was so enamored a few nights ago at this private reading series I attended, where about 50 people got together to share their erotic writing. I marveled at the confidence in the room. Person after person just sharing their sexiest stories like it’s nothing. No nervous chuckles, no disclaimers about how they can’t believe they’re sharing this out loud and instead just owning it. One person wrote a story about their first threesome, and another sang out the lyrics to a song they wrote about watching their partner get with someone else, which was parallel to my reader’s “shameful” fantasy. And then the highlight of the evening— the host’s 80 something year old grandmother shared a delicious story she wrote about key parties in the 70s which had us all laughing and cheering.
While I found the event transgressive and electric, I still found the crowd pretty homogenous for the most part and the stories still followed relatively heteronormative, stereotypically gendered themes. The faces in the room reflected the usual demographics of these spaces, but still watching everyone share so boldly made me wonder: how did everyone get so comfortable talking about this stuff? How did I?
I think about my own privilege here. I work at a company liberal enough that as an event planner, I can host parties at sex toy shops and it’s cool. I hosted an event where a burlesque performer wore nothing except a g-string and tassels and it was fine. My coworkers read this newsletter and it’s chill. But that’s not most people’s reality. My inbox reminds me regularly that many people really struggle to voice their desires. The weight of that silence erodes our spirits, makes us smaller, longelier versions of ourselves. The erotica event inspired me to write this post about how I unlearned my shame.
I did not grow up in some sex positive utopia. I have pushed my parents to change a lot but they were very traditional when I was growing up, and these were not at all dinner table topics. But I’ve always had this mischievous spirit in me and I always delighted in what scandalized polite company. There is a reason I still love cringe humor and Nathan Fielder is my fave. What started out as rebellion shifted to something I internalized when I was 19.
I was in my first non-monogamous relationship, with so many big feelings that I was sure made me sound petty, immature, too much. My boyfriend kept assuring me that these very human feelings were so normal, and we should give these feelings air. That I wasn’t wrong for feeling jealous, or wanting more, or being turned on by things I thought I shouldn’t be. Eventually, I started to believe him.
Once I gave myself permission to feel my feelings and also talk about them, I started seeing how universal they were. There were so many people carrying around the same desires, the same curiosities, the same anxieties, all of us thinking we were alone in them.
And what I’ve learned is that when we create shame-free spaces, they multiply. When Im transparent, frank, honest, about my experiences and desires, it invites others to be honest as well. When I’ve felt brave enough to speak without shame, someone often whispers back “I feel that way too.” The whispers can grow into a voice, a laugh, and eventually into the kind of bold declarations I saw at the erotica reading.
I don’t think that it’s “luck” that I’ve found myself surrounded by people who make space for all these feelings. I do live in NYC, but there are a lot of old fashioned people here. I’ve actively sought out these conversations, these connections, and as a community builder I’ve worked to create these safe spaces as well. You can read my “recipe” on gathering people in an intentional and consistent way (like I do with Chinese Dinner) on my dear friend Ryan’s substack here.
I know not everyone has this privilege of the safety net of liberal workplaces and sex-positive friends and that some people risk losing jobs, families, or being shunned by their social circles if they speak their truth.
I’ve been thinking a lot about this after watching Babygirl, the Nicole Kidman movie that’s out now where she plays a CEO who begins a dom/sub relationship with her intern. In my last post I said I wish it went further, but I’ve been reading about how it’s sparked honest conversations. People who have never talked about their desires are finding the courage after watching the movie to open up to friends, partners, and to themselves. It’s a lot like what happened with Miranda July’s latest book “All Fours”— in fact Miranda July started a comment thread on her Substack to allow for these honest conversations about desires.
"All it takes is for people to say, 'Oh yeah, this is me too,' or, 'You may be wondering if I think this is beyond the pale, and well, I don't,'" July said recently. "Then it's a new way of thinking and communication that has ramifications."
In this NYT article, one woman says she nearly didn't see "Babygirl" because she assumed none of her friends would want to go. She says she was into BDSM but always felt shame about her desires, which she attributes to her Catholic upbringing. "Sex in general is already taboo, so having any wants or desires beyond the mainstream feels even more shameful." But when she mentioned the movie to a friend, he surprised her by offering to join. During the screening, she found herself pointing to the screen saying "I've been there." She says she feels a lot closer to that friend now knowing this is something they can talk about together.
Another person in the article remarked on how even though she’s in Gen Z, many women find it hard to talk about sex. "I think there is something really, really common especially among women who go through certain upbringings like religious ones where we are taught to demonize our own desires and sexualities.” Isn’t Gen Z actually becoming more conservative and religious? So the fact that they can’t talk about sex isn’t surprising at all.
While I think these mainstream works could push boundaries further (I was told Nosferatu was going to be hot. What was hot about it?), it’s fascinating to see how even these super tame portrayals are giving people permission to have honest dialogue. Each person who shares their story with someone has ripple effects. The first woman interviewed in the NYT piece now talks about BDSM with the friend who watched Babygirl with her, and she’s also having conversations with other Catholic friends about sexuality. I think these private revelations can multiply, person by person and whisper by whisper until you’re in a room where an 80+ year old grandmother can share erotica about key parties to thunderous applause.
Me being open about being non-monogamous has invited countless people to share their secrets with me. But they really don’t need to be secrets. The desires that people confess to me in hushed tones are so normal and human. The shame that people carry about completely natural feelings and fantasies is honestly kinda heartbreaking. Last week I learned that a couple I know who was married for years only recently discovered one of them was queer. “It never came up before” they said, a little stunned (and maybe upset?) by the reveal. How….is that… possible? Respectfully, how do we live in such silence that we can’t share fundamental truths about ourselves with the people we are sharing our lives with?
And when I look at kink and sex positive spaces, which aren’t as diverse as they should be, I think about all the other people who aren’t given the permission or place to speak their truths. Even at the erotica reading, while I loved the age diversity, the room didn’t reflect the full spectrum of bodies, backgrounds, and identities that make up our city. It’s not for lack of trying— the event was free, open to all, a true third space with no obvious barriers to entry (I wrote about the impact of no third spaces last year here) so I thought that was super cool. I felt no roadblocks to joining. But there are invisible walls and systemic barriers which result in these spaces feeling so homogenous. It makes me wonder who gets to shed shame publicly and who feels safe enough to stand up and own their desires out loud.
Now when people share their secrets with me, I see the same hunger for connection that drove me to speak up, that drives me to write this newsletter. The hope that someone else will say “ya, same” and relief when they learn their desires aren’t shameful or wrong. They’re just human.
Some people don’t want to talk about sex with their friends and don’t want to share their desires openly, and I should say that is completely valid, too. Privacy isn't the same as shame. I’m speaking to anyone carrying the heavy weight of secrets, anyone whose spirits are being eroded by silence, I want you to know that your desires deserve to be heard and spoken about, and they don’t make you wrong.
Whenever someone shares in that erotica writing group, whenever a friend tells me about a fantasy they've never voiced before, whenever someone reads this newsletter and thinks "ya, same!" we start to combat shame’s nasty force.
And this is why I write about and speak on these topics so openly, and why I’m sharing my own journey from feeling shameful to feeling bold. Somewhere out there someone is holding their truth so tight it hurts. I know that seeing others speak without shame will help them find their voice too. Thanks for reading 🖤 If you found this helpful please give the post a like so it can reach others who might find it insightful.
Q: My partner and I never talk about our desires or fantasies. Every time I try to bring it up, they change the subject. How did you learn to have these conversations with partners?
A: This is a surprisingly common conundrum. It turns out so many people have never discussed their desires with long-term partners. Let’s first acknowledge that it’s so great that you’re trying to initiate these conversations in the first place. If your partner keeps deflecting, it’s likely some deep-rooted shame or fear. A lot of people are so conditioned to stay silent that even the invitation to speak feels threatening.
You should start small and indirect. Instead of jumping straight into "here are my fantasies," try discussing other people's desires first. Watch a movie like Babygirl together and talk about what you think of the characters' dynamics. Share an article about sex and relationships and ask what they think, listen to or read erotica together (try my friend’s spicy audiobook platform, Dipsea). These entry points can feel safer because they're one step removed from talking about yourself directly.
Another approach is to express appreciation for what's already working— "I loved it when you did X" or "I find it so hot when you said Y" creates positive reinforcement and opens the door for more intimate conversations. It's harder to feel shame when you're coming from a place of celebration instead of criticism.
You also can't force someone to be ready for these conversations. All you can do is create a shame-free space where they might eventually feel safe enough to open up. Make it clear through your words and actions that there's no judgment, only curiosity and care.
And if they're still not ready? That's when you need to have a different conversation about whether your needs for intimate communication are being met in this relationship. Because you deserve to be able to express your desires openly with your partner. We all do.
This skewer of chicken tikka drenched in Old Monk rum and then lit on fire was fun at Ishq, a new Indian spot with a gorgeous pink quartz centerpiece table that just opened in the East Village.
I saw a bunch of movies over winter break, including Nosferatu which I found boring. Less boring was an Indian film called All We Imagine as Light, which centers on two women and their daily struggles in Mumbai. It’s a patient film, but very lovely.
This was a phenomenal piece by disability activist Alice Wong on how she navigates pleasure and sexual desire as a disabled person who uses a wheelchair. So candid. A must read.
Two pieces I think you should read on the devastating wildfires that are ongoing in LA right now.