Invisible in a World Obsessed with Sex
KATRINA GEHMAN
“When voice is taken from body, the spirit has no home.”
I cannot have sex. By which I mean heterosexual intercourse, which is apparently what many people in society seem to mean when they use that unfortunate term.
It is physically impossible. Is there a treatment for it? Yes. Have I tried the treatment? Yes. Did it work? No. It is involuntary, beyond my direct control. Also, I’m not so sure that I would want to participate in that sexual act even if I had that option. Just the thought of that particular act makes me feel like throwing up.
So, what does this mean for my life?
It means that gynecological exams have been the single most excruciatingly painful thing I have ever experienced physically.
It means that dating has mostly been an awful experience. Even seemingly innocuous and simple affectionate touch can cause panic attacks. I constantly wonder what else someone will expect from me physically and at what point they will reject me either for my chosen boundaries or for the boundaries that have chosen me. And that is not an irrational fear. Because I have lived it.
It means that I do not know if having biological children is a practical option for me. It means that I have a ticking time bomb over my head pressuring me to figure this out before it is too late to choose.
I have endured a decade of misidentification, unprofessional and insensitive medical care, lack of access to accurate information, and unkind remarks by well-meaning people. It’s been hell.
Trauma can be caused by one major incident or event, or it can be the effect of words/experiences accumulated over a lifetime. People make comments almost every single day that exclude me and my experiences, without even realizing it. I have never met anyone who has been open about having this same set of complex experiences, and I have never seen them represented in a major media production.
I am invisible in a world obsessed with sex.
Society’s Assumptions
What are these dehumanizing words that have accumulated over a lifetime?
Have you ever noticed how often people mention sex? If you have not, start to pay attention. Throwaway comments and jokes in movies, TV, music, and parties expose underlying beliefs about sex, which almost always exclude me and my experiences.
· Limited Definition of Sex
Popular society still considers intercourse to be the main type of “real” sex in a heterosexual context. Even dictionaries define “sex” in this way, with a focus on male anatomy and male experience. This is not even entirely accurate in terms of female anatomy, concentrating on the vagina and ignoring the clitoris. This definition excludes sexuality from being a possibility for someone like me.
· Sex and Relationships
I cannot tell you how many times I have heard people make remarks about how they believe that “sex” is the most important part of a relationship. The correlation to this is the belief that you do not deserve to be in a relationship if you cannot have “sex.” Worse, it equates your sexuality with your humanity. Meaning that if you either cannot have “sex” or do not want to, you must not be fully human. It feels as though society simply cannot bear your existence and you will never be worthy of love or partnership.
· Double Standard of Consent
True consent cannot exist without both “YES” and “NO.” In the past few years since the #MeToo movement, there has been a growing general awareness of the importance of consent. And with famous figures actually going behind bars for sexual predation, society has finally acknowledged that “NO” means “NO.” At least for creepy strangers. Which is a start. But in a relationship? Not so much. There are subtle cues that you do not really have the right to say “NO.” I mean, you can, but the price is rejection and abandonment because, “Who would want to stay with you?” So, there is no safety in boundaries or limitations.
· Conditional Fidelity
It feels as though fidelity in a relationship is only truly expected if you provide “sex” in return. Which unfairly puts the onus of someone else’s fidelity on your sexual performance. I’m guessing that even some of you reading this secretly think that it is justified to cheat on someone if they will not do certain sexual acts with you. So much for safety in a relationship.
· Empathy Gap
I have frequently encountered a monumental gap in people’s ability to empathize with me. Society ostracizes, blames, and makes fun of people who “withhold sex,” without even trying to understand them. In my experience, “sex-positivity” can also reinforce this exclusion. My entire life, I have been asked to walk in other people’s shoes. But who is willing to see into my world?
Rape Culture in Church
These societal messages about sex have been compounded by the sermons that I did and did not hear growing up. I was always longing for church leaders to say something kind about people who either could not have sex, or for whatever reason did not want to as much as their partners, or who had unexpected boundaries. Instead, I witnessed subtle messages of manipulation and coercion.
Sermons I wish I had heard…
I did not realize that marital rape was a crime. In church community, I learned that in marriage, a woman’s body did not belong to her. I specifically remember someone from church describing how she did not always want to have sex with her partner, but that she forced herself to because it would be good for her marriage. Never once do I remember hearing public acknowledgement that respecting someone’s boundaries would be better for that person and for their relationship than pressuring them.
More importance was always placed on whoever wanted certain sexual expressions more, in a hierarchy. But the language of “need” was used so that it could not be questioned. Never once do I remember hearing a sermon about how to be considerate of a partner who did not want or could not participate in a certain sexual expression.
I remember church leaders encouraging women to be “visually generous” with their husbands. Well, what if I did not want to be put on display? What if I did not want to be ogled by anyone - not just by strangers - but especially not by someone I love? Why must I pay the ultimate price of my humanity and my dignity for sex in a way that would feel humiliating and degrading to me? Why is “sex” more important than my personhood? At what point is what I want and how I feel allowed to matter?
Even more recent efforts to reform unhealthy aspects of church culture by speaking positively about sexuality can inadvertently shame people who may feel ambivalent or averse.
Well, I got the message loud and clear. I would never be loved as I am. At best, I might be tolerated. But no one would ever embrace my limitations. I would just make someone frustrated and angry, and they would eventually resent me and leave.
The Impossible Scales
This barrage of messages has left me feeling as though the only thing that matters about me to both society and the church is whether or not I can fit a penis in my vagina. That is crude. But society is crude. It feels as though there are these scales, and on the one side is THE ONE ESSENTIAL THING IN LIFE, and on the other side is everything I am - my brilliant mind, my musical talent, my ability to see the world in all its glorious colors, my gifts with languages, my analytical capability, my generosity, my courage, my strength of will, my capacity to love. And no matter how many glowing jewels I place on the other side of the scales, they never outweigh THE ONE ESSENTIAL THING IN LIFE. In some ways, the fact that I am so talented and so brilliant makes this worse. If I was only mediocre, the deficit would not be as apparent. But as it is, it is alarmingly clear that nothing I ever do will make up for what society sees as a PROBLEM that must be FIXED. When faced with this dilemma and reminded of it day after day after day by the offhanded remarks that people make, how am I supposed to feel any other way than worthless?
Personal Crisis
This came to a head in a personal crisis during the pandemic. Last fall, amidst the isolation of living alone during a year of quarantine, the person I had been seeing during the pandemic cheated on me and ghosted me. After repeated betrayals I had experienced in relationships over the past decade, this was the final straw. Pain, which I had gritted my teeth and endured for years, became unbearable. I did not want to live anymore. This struggle took place behind the scenes while I filmed and produced the entire #BothBelong depolarization campaign. I am beyond grateful for the friends who showed up for me when I needed it the most. Their acceptance of me has made all the difference.
Waking Up from this Nightmare
To be clear, it is not my inability to participate in intercourse that has most upset me - it is society’s response to it… which judges my worth and my worthiness of love solely based upon it. On an intellectual level, I do not believe that THE ONE ESSENTIAL THING IN LIFE should outweigh my shine and all the colors I bring to the world. I believe that society’s obsession with sex can be unhealthy and can dehumanize people. But I do not ordinarily see my own experiences or beliefs reflected or represented… anywhere. And so, my experience has been one of isolation in an entire ocean swimming the opposite direction.
Seeking treatment is one of the most courageous things I have ever done. Because I am terrified that if the treatment would ever work, I would be raped. That someone would only take me seriously if my body said “NO” – not if I did. Frankly, no wonder my vagina took things into her own hands and said “Hell, NO!” I mean, can you blame her? In some ways, I feel like my body has been participating my entire life in a nonviolent protest against toxic and objectifying societal and church attitudes about sex.
What about what I want?
On my better days, I can imagine the kind of world I want… a world where my pain is not the price of someone else’s pleasure and where my worth is not determined by my sexuality… a world where I can love without shame for my boundaries or my limitations, where I have the freedom in a relationship to choose to what extent I do or do not participate in sexuality without fear of reprisal or betrayal… a world where my uniqueness does not have to equal my rejection.
A world where there is room for my existence, too.
That world is possible. Let’s create it.
Pain as Fuel
I have always believed in not wasting pain but rather, to the extent possible, using pain as fuel to make the world a brighter place. I know what it feels like to be unseen, so I strive to see other people. I know what it feels like to be excluded, so I prioritize inclusion. I know what it feels like not to belong, so I endeavor to make others feel welcome.
But I need this compassion extended to me in my own life too. We all do. No, we do not need society’s limited view of “sex” to embrace our lives. But we all need to be seen. We need to be included. We need to belong.
So, will you see me?
Katrina Gehman is a poet, violinist, linguist, conflict analyst, teacher, and world traveler with a vision for Inspiring Peace. Having experienced misrepresentation, she created a platform for her voice. Check out her YouTube channel for thought-provoking content, including “Rejection in Stride” (in response to these events) as well as her award-winning poem “I Am Not Your Thing.” (The introductory quote comes from her poetry.) She is loved unconditionally by her cat Buster and by her neighbors in her trailer park.