“I know I am having feminist sex when I can unwrap my desire from all of the patriarchal ambiguity, pinpoint it, and act accordingly. When I don’t hesitate to tell my partner how to please me and when or if they’re doing it wrong. When I refuse to fake an orgasm for convenience. When I’m not preoccupied with the way the male gaze perceives my body when the lights are on. When I don’t feel like a slut or a saint or a hypocrite for doing it whenever, however I chose. When I am ultimately fucking for me, and no one else.”
I love sex.
More specifically, I love kinky sex. I love to get my hair pulled while I’m being fucked doggy style or bent over a knee for a spanking in a Daddy/Daughter roleplay. I am turned on, at times, by submissiveness; being tied up or held down by my partner during a rough pounding. I masturbate to gangbang porn. I like to deep throat on my knees and swallow after I’ve finished. I love the satisfaction of being sore the next day.
I’m a freak. I’m also a feminist. And the two aren’t mutually exclusive.
The way that feminism and sexuality intersect divide itself into two polarizing ideologies. The first, carved out of second-wave radical feminism, is mostly characterized by anti-sex. It renders sex work, sexy clothing, sexual public display, and pornography (especially hetero/mainstream) as demeaning and objectifying. It implicitly encourages women to detach themselves from conventional ideals of…
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