This post is (not) coincidentally being released with my American Sex Podcast episode, up now on your favorite podcast platform!
Being a podcast guest was a completely new experience for me, but I give so many thanks to Sunny and Ken for making it super comfortable and really fun. This probably comes as a surprise to no one, but I struggle with imposter syndrome a lot as a “sexuality writer/blogger/personality/whatever” who doesn’t do this full time. I’m always wondering about if anyone cares about what I have to say and if it even matters. While I enjoyed defending POCs right to love mayonnaise and explaining purity ceremonies on the show, being able to talk about what I do and why I do it really put this-meaning my work as a blogger-all back into perspective for me.
I started this blog nearly 3 years ago at a point of major transition in my life. I was about to leave college and was just staring into the void of the unknown future. But because college was such a profoundly transformative experience for me (ask anyone who knew me in high school), I knew that I wanted to really take steps to find my voice and share it with the world because I have a passion for educating. And because sex ed was a big part of my life in school, it made a lot of sense for me to try to fill what I saw as a major gap in the digital world - young Black people talking about sexuality and relationships in ways that I could relate to. It was not this cohesive of a thought or purpose when it first came to me (I’m not even going to pretend), but this is what I eventually landed on.
In talking with friends while I was in school, I realized that so much of what I felt about sex wasn’t an isolated experience. But it’s really hard building community to be open in a positive and healthy way about something considered so shameful like sexuality. Especially as a woman. ESPECIALLY as a Black woman with a Southern Christian upbringing. But I took it upon myself to try and do so. Growing up, while I understood how sex worked and its risks, I never learned how to regard sex as something pleasurable for me. As something that I shouldn’t feel shame about openly desiring. And unlearning that is HARD when women are routinely ostracized socially and sometimes face violence for being open about their sexuality.
When you know how difficult it was to unlearn certain ways of thinking for yourself, it makes it that much harder to want to challenge those mindsets when it comes to talking to people you know. You don’t want to step on toes, ruin friendships, or make yourself a pariah, but it’s also hard to sit by and watch people struggle with dissatisfaction in their lives because they’re holding themselves to an impossible standard.
And that’s where I found a lot of trouble in my early days as a blogger. Trying to be relatable while still informative is hard enough, but sanitizing my message so it would be palatable to the masses just killed my actual purpose in writing in the first place. I was wondering all the time why I couldn’t find my voice or why it felt like my writing wasn’t impactful when the reality was that I was silencing myself to avoid rocking the boat too hard. That tension only resolves by being authentic.
I still struggle with owning my sexuality and being comfortable with being open about it, and that’s despite knowing all of the “right” things to do to overcome it! It’s so much more difficult feeling like you’re walking a path alone, which is why I wanted Sexology Bae to make people feel like they had someone who could relate to their experiences and feelings. Whether it’s twitter threads or answering Sexology Bae Says Questions, I try to remind myself and anyone following my work that unlearning stigma and shame around sexuality is a PROCESS. It didn’t show up overnight and it damn sure won’t go away overnight either.
What’s been really helpful for me, as I continue to learn and grow, is to acknowledge my fears about putting myself out there and being open about uncomfortable topics like sex. Granted, I generally avoid diving into specifics about my sex life out of respect for my partners’ privacy, but being a woman discussing sex on the internet is a vulnerable space to be in. Every time I’m sharing thoughts about sex, or my body, or relationships, I’m doing so with the full understanding that I’m exposing myself to judgement from people, whether they know me or not. But silence is a tactic of the privileged that enables power structures to remain in place, and it’s doing a disservice to myself and the people that support me to allow fear to control my actions.
Acknowledging the fear, for me, helps me feel a bit less hypocritical when I don’t live up to my own advice or delete a draft because I don’t think anyone will be receptive to it. It’s lonely being “that person” sometimes, but as time has gone on, I find myself connecting with more people as I continue to be more real about my thoughts and feelings. It truly feels like Sexology Bae, as a person, brand, and blog, is really just getting started so I hope y’all are all in on this ride with me.