Some thoughts bared on sex and culture.

It was a few years ago when my niece came for a visit.  It was a regular, sunlit afternoon in Australia.  I was doing some work on my laptop, and at the time, I had a lovely wallpaper from my favourite erotic site,  a lovely image of girls in kiss and caress.

3-year-old Christy came in, saw the pink skin on my screen, and pointed at it.

“That’s yucky.”

Harmless at the time, I simply chuckled.  “Not it’s not”

“Yes it iiissszzz.  That’s yucky!”

I turned my gaze towards her, then back the smut on my screen, and back to her again.

“Your mummy told you that, didn’t she?”

Christy became still and silent for a moment, pausing to contemplate my question.  She’s a thinker this one.  Without answering, she turned and shuffled away, shuffling away to find something to play with.  Nonchalant.

It was a moment that has stayed with me for a while.  That a little girl, innocent, sweet and bright-eyed, could be instructed to react to sex with feelings of disgust and shame.  I know that feeling well.  Not only did it take me time to burst out of that repression, it took even longer for my sex to grown and mature.

I wonder if there will be a day when sexuality can remain free and open.  I believe that it is our duty to cultivate sexuality, the same way we cultivate self-esteem or self-identity.  It is too primal an energy.  When that day comes, issues like homosexuality, age disparity and marketing won’t become hot issues like they are today.

But I will say one thing.  To live a life with my sex as a burden, is a terrible, excruciating, silent pain to live with.