Dear reader, let’s talk about being sex-positive. In theory, it champions the idea that all consensual sexual expression is valid, celebrated, and free from shame. It’s an empowering vision, one that’s helped drive everything from better sex education to mainstream conversations about kink and ethical porn.
But here’s the problem: for a society that claims to be more open than ever, we’re still remarkably good at shaming certain sexual choices. We’ll applaud some expressions but side-eye others. We’ll champion “body liberation” but still bristle at full-service sex work. If we’re sincere, we can admit that even virtual sex work is subject to harsh criticism.
How many times have we seen a headline like “OnlyFans Girl Does X” because it’s more scandalous than saying “Karen from Florida Does X”? So, are we as sex-positive as we think we are, or are we just picking and choosing which sexual choices we consider respectable?
At its core, sex-positivity is about embracing sexuality as a natural, healthy part of life. It encourages enthusiastic consent, informed exploration, and the rejection of shame tied to desire—whether that desire is for vanilla missionary, hardcore BDSM, or erotically charged clown roleplay (no judgment, dear reader, you do you). But true sex-positivity means supporting all consensual sexual expressions, not just the ones that align with our comfort zones. Here’s where things get tricky.
Even in our supposedly open-minded culture, sexual shaming is alive and well. It’s just gotten sneakier. Let’s look at some of the ways sex-negativity still creeps into our world.
Ever noticed how conversations about sex-positivity still favor the “palatable” and “socially acceptable” forms of sexual expression?
Similarly, discussing sex in an academic panel is “progressive,” but a sex worker sharing their real-world experience is often dismissed as “promoting an industry.” The message? Some expressions of sexuality are respectable, while others make people uncomfortable, and discomfort often leads to judgment.
Sex-positivity means backing all forms of healthy, consensual sexual exploration, not just the ones that align with mainstream feminism, vanilla preferences, or intellectual debates.
People love kink until it makes them uncomfortable. But the whole point of sex-positivity is that we don’t need to enjoy or understand something to respect that others do. As long as it’s safe, sane, and consensual (SSC) or risk-aware consensual kink (RACK), no one should be shamed for loving what they love.
If society were truly sex-positive, we’d fully embrace sex workers, right? Yet, sex work remains one of the most stigmatized professions on the planet. Sure, people love erotic content. They follow OnlyFans creators, consume adult entertainment, and enjoy spicy TikTok accounts. But do they publicly defend the rights of sex workers? Do they fight against unfair censorship, de-platforming, or the laws that criminalize their livelihood? Often, the answer is no.
Casual sex? Relatable. Serial dating? You go, queen. Polyamory, relationship anarchy, or swinging? Suddenly, it’s, “Oh, but what about jealousy?” Again, you don’t have to be into whatever they are… don’t yuck anyone’s (legal) yum.
Despite the growing visibility of ethical non-monogamy, many people still see it as unstable, morally suspect, or a phase before settling into “the real thing” (read: monogamy). Polyamorous folks regularly face everything from outright discrimination to condescending “you just haven’t found the right one yet” comments.
If non-monogamy is consensual, respectful, and fulfilling for those involved, why should it threaten anyone who prefers monogamy? The idea that love and sex must fit into strict, pre-approved structures is more about control than true sex-positivity.
A truly sex-positive society doesn’t gatekeep which desires, identities, or professions deserve respect and which don’t. If we want to live in a culture that actually supports sexual freedom, we need to: avoid policing “acceptable” expressions of sexuality.
So, dear reader, next time you hear yourself cringing at a particular kink, dismissing a sex worker’s perspective, or side-eyeing a polycule, pause and ask yourself: Am I actually sex-positive, or just comfortable with the sexy stuff that fits my worldview?