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Women's Sexual Agency is also Human Agency

Updated: Oct 27


Woman with red lipstick and collar.
Woman with red lipstick and collar.

When women write about sex and desire, especially in honest or emotionally complex ways, it often gets dismissed as “porn” or “smut” because it threatens the traditional boundaries that have long defined acceptable female expression. There’s a cultural discomfort, especially in male-dominated literary criticism, with women owning their sexual narratives without shame, without male permission, and without softening the edges.


When men write about sex, especially in literary or philosophical contexts, it’s often framed as “exploration,” “social commentary,” or “a study of the human condition.” Why? Because the literary canon has historically been shaped by men, for men, through a male gaze.

So when men write about sex, it’s seen as serious.

When women do it, it’s seen as indulgent.


There are countless examples of this, but off the top of my head: Lady Chatterley’s Lover, Henry Miller’s Tropic of Cancer, even Nabokov’s Lolita—all written by men, all deeply sexual, and all widely accepted as literary, despite the fact that many of them portray female characters in deeply troubling, objectifying ways. But books written by women, such as, Anaïs Nin, Eliza Clark, or countless other romance or speculative fiction female writers who dare to include sexuality often get branded as erotica first, and literature second… if at all.

I have also had my books labeled in the same way. How dare I have a female character who desires sex for sex’s sake? With the underlying notion, How dare a woman be human.

Women make up more than 51% of the world’s population and this is the first time in history we are allowed to share our view of the world without a man okaying it first (this is through self-publishing and social media [even though algorithms push down women’s issues]). And that includes sharing our fantasies.


I don’t know if this is a shock to some people (I think it must be) that women are real human beings with sexual fantasies of our own, but I guarantee we were not born out of any man’s rib. In fact, if women had written the story we would have been the ones to have borne man, but that’s a subject for another post.


I am proud to be a writer who isn’t ashamed to write about women’s fantasies. Men have been able to have their fantasies forever, why should women be denied? Are we not human too?


References



Facebook screenshot of My Human Pet with a comment
Facebook screenshot of My Human Pet with a comment


Screenshot of Facebook comments on Olympia Black's Author Page
Screenshot of Facebook comments on Olympia Black's Author Page





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