My possessed pair of shorts

Sexual freedom to me is like my demon possessed pair of shorts, at least, that’s what my mother used to call them. They were black and green, blue and pink. On a good day you could see a little bit of brown and yellow. In short, my shorts had all the colours of the rainbow….

Fluidity and expression

My sexual freedom resulted from choosing to ‘look.’ It could have been a terrible thing of course, maybe it was, plainly because of the thin line between admiring and objectifying. But at that time I had kept myself hidden from that world and did not know who I was or what I wanted.   The object…

Sexual Freedom

Sexual freedom can mean different things to different people. But one thing remains constant: it is a human right. Accepting and exploring our sexuality without shame, guilt, or fear is what sexual freedom means to me. Even though sexual freedom is a human right, some individuals, particularly the older generation, view it as a sign…

Sex, a Wondrous Continuous Journey of Self-Acceptance

Growing up, sex was an omen. The picture drew by my parents, relatives and teachers was that sex equals disgrace and death. Mind you, this was problematic for me especially in my school going years where I learned that children are made through sex: so how could sex still equate disgrace and death? I was…

Talking Positively about the Talk

The adolescent in me was giddy when I read the topic of this essay because, for her, it meant this was a do over. I could say to her all the things that she needed to hear. Today, I am a 24-year-old woman. I have come close but have not yet had (penetrative) sex. This…

A burning, necessary conversation

One fateful afternoon when I was 10 years old, I heard about sex for first time. Our fifth-grade teacher announced that she wanted to have a ‘talk’ with the girls after school. “As you can all see, your bodies are changing, you’re growing breasts and your hips are widening,” she said. “Very soon you will…