By Tessa Stricker
Culture and religion greatly shape the perception of both gender and sexuality. In Denmark, we do not have to go back any further than the 1960s to experience women who were sent to Sprogø for being "sexually promiscuous" and "morally defective". Historically, the woman's sexuality belonged to the man in the patriarchal society, and sex took place exclusively within the marital framework. That the man had to go to the brothel was considered a necessary evil, in order to satisfy the desires that the wife could not. Feminine sexuality has thus not had an easy time throughout history, and it has been perceived as both dangerous and unruly. There has been a fight for just that to have a sexuality as a woman; so perhaps it is not so strange that it can also feel extra shameful to have a sexuality that breaks with the norm. Fortunately, a lot has happened since then, but a culture change happens over a long period of time.
About breaking with the monogamous view of life
I find it difficult to articulate these things that I would like to articulate; especially because it divides the waters. I am not out to single out anything as being more true than anything else; if I'm onto something, it's more that I want to help break down the notion that the monogamous view of life is the truest approach. Because as I see it, it is just one of many ways to be in a relationship, although I personally experience that the monogamous view of life is exalted as something more fine and correct compared to other views. I will try to throw myself into this topic, based on my very own subjective experience, and maybe there is someone reading along who can reflect a little bit on some of the things I write.
I've probably always been aware that I didn't fit into the traditional monogamous view of life. Despite that, I was in a monogamous relationship for eight years. It is difficult to be in a relationship where you love your partner, but where you also know that you can only be together if you put a lid on yourself; even if your body screams that it feels completely wrong. For some, the idea of "only" having sex with your partner for the rest of your life is a romantic thought. For others, it feels like a prison.
At the time of writing, I do not have a primary partner, nor do I have any desire to have one; but the times I've been in a relationship, I've never given up on the idea that my partner was the only one I should be with sexually. I have also never given up on the idea that I should be the only sexual partner for my partner. I have felt it as claustrophobic and as quite a big responsibility. If my partner wanted something I didn't want, would I have to compromise my desire to fulfill theirs and vice versa? Or should we just forget the desire now that it was not reciprocated between us? What if I didn't feel like sex for a period of time. Should I then be to blame for my partner not having sex either? Because I had patented a ball I didn't want to play with? I find it hard to understand why sex is such an exalted thing that for many only happens with their primary partner; but where the innermost thoughts and feelings can be shared with anyone. To me it doesn't make sense. It is of course more nuanced than I make it out to be here. But the point is just that I feel constricted and unfree at the thought of monogamy; although the thought may be beautiful and lovely to others.
Because we are so different, perhaps we should be better at talking about what kind of relationship we want when we enter into one. Still, I think very few of them really talk about what it should mean when they put a title on the relationship. What does the new title change? Where are the limits of infidelity for you?
Most people I've talked to agree with me that we don't really talk about what kind of relationship you should have when you become lovers. There is just such a common understanding that it is of course a monogamous relationship. Maybe because of religion and culture, maybe because of Disney movies about the prince and princess and because there are no other alternative stories to reflect on; there can be an infinite number of reasons why we don't talk. But wouldn't it be cool if monogamy wasn't a cultural thing, but an active choice that people had thought about?
Shame and feelings of wrongness
There is no one sexuality or way of life that is more right than another (as long as you don't harm others, of course), but I have felt to a great extent that my sexuality has been too hurtful, too violent and too big a mouthful. I have also felt that I was too weird and too strange, and I have had a huge desire to be able to match my partner's sexuality. I have also thought that my partners had the most real feelings. After all, they just wanted to be with me, just like in all the love movies, and they think the idea of promising themselves to each other was beautiful. I felt so wrong for not feeling the same way. I think the most beautiful thing is to set each other free. To me, there is nothing loving about claiming each other sexually. I don't want anyone to lay claim to me and my sexuality, and I don't want to lay claim to anyone else's. I turn on people who are lust driven. When Rihanna sings: "want you to make me feel like I'm the only girl in the world", I can hardly think of anything that would turn me on less. For me, it is mostly on the sexual level that I need freedom. I don't see myself as being able to have multiple romantic partners, but who knows what the future holds. I see sexuality as dynamic and I think we can all have different needs and desires at different points in our lives.
I have been ashamed. Very much. Over having what I have. And I have felt how, in trying to fit into this notion of monogamy, as the only real lifestyle, I have slowly but surely felt like a less and less sexual being. I have thought that my sexuality was too much, and then I packed it so far away that I found it difficult to feel it.
To accept one's own sexuality
I have spent a really long time rediscovering my own sexuality after being ashamed of it and packing it away for a long time. I have worked a lot to become aware that I am completely okay, just as I am, and with everything that I entail; even if it breaks with the normative notions.
I have read and listened to Esther Perel, found the podcast "swinger" on Podimo, followed people on Instagram that I can look up to, and it has helped a lot. It has been a huge liberation to break with the idea that I have to fit into a box I don't feel comfortable in, but it hasn't been without difficult choices. I recently fell in love again for the first time after my last long relationship, and after a few tries we both had to admit that we couldn't find a way together that worked for both of us sexually. I have had to admit that my sexuality is a huge part of me and that it plays a huge role in how I feel. So I have chosen myself for; and despite the heartbreak, it feels damn good to do.
I'm not in such a secure place where I completely know what I want and don't want, but I feel I'm in a good place. A place where I am open, curious and self-loving. Or at least where the intention is to be.
Last year I wrote a New Year's resolution on the New Year's rocket: "Better sex with myself". This year the New Year's resolution was: "Be kind to yourself"; because when I have ambitions to own my sexuality and completely stand by myself, my body, my desires and needs, I also stand on the shoulders of a lot of women who have been burned at the stake, stoned or imprisoned as punishment for showing sexual desire or worse: tempting others. It is a really heavy and violent history that we have behind us, and I am absolutely convinced that that history still plays a role and that it requires attention and awareness to move on from here; and that regardless of which sexuality or gender you identify with.
