Let me tell you something about me. I’m going to be very open about something I’ve never really been open about before. Please bare with me. This is NOT an easy topic for me.

As a kid, sex seemed to be a topic that was left to the fifth grade classroom. It was dirty, it was vulgar, and it was at times absolutely hilarious. Let me be clear. Sex is not just about penetration. It is not just about the body’s physical maturity towards pregnancy for a woman. It is not simply about hormones. And the bible is not where we should interpret wrong and right. I digress…

In my younger years, I saw musicians like Madonna flaunting her stuff. Watching Dirty Dancing. I was interested in sex from a young age. I actually went to my friends house and went to a dance at Ishpeming High School where I attempted to dance seductively. I wanted to be sought after in that way.

When my mom went into the coma and eventual vegetative state, I begun to rebel using my body. I felt like if a man had sex with me or had shown interest in me in that way, they’d love me. After all, the narrative is (regarding procreation) “When a mommy and daddy love each other very much….” Does anyone REALLY discuss how a woman should be mentally prepared for the signals their body/hormones are sending to them? That a woman should have self confidence. That sex isn’t just about the initial high of having someone tell them they’re attractive and they’re wanted. If it is, they should tell said woman that IF they choose to believe that the sexual partner “wants them”, that it’s not for a commitment and it certainly doesn’t mean love. Keep in mind, women are just as devious as men are. Women want one night stands too. I am not saying men are predators as a whole.

For me (and most people, I assume) sex is enjoyable. It gives you what regular interpersonal experiences do not. There is a level of mental intimacy that should never be understated. You have to trust that partner to believe that they will not transmit a sexually transmitted disease. You have to believe that they will treat you right and will not abuse the privilege. It’s a social contract, many times unspoken that is more sacred to one side than the other.

When I felt I was ready to participate in sexual activity, I was only 15 years old. My first partner was kind to me. And I knew this was just fun. I continued having sex with other partners. Lucky to not have an std from any of them. My luck started to run out, eventually. I was introduced to a man who wanted me to give him oral sex. I REALLY did not want to. And I told him as such. As I was telling him no, he was trying to shove my head down towards his erect penis. I cannot begin to explain to you how that made me feel. Knowing that someone I was sexually interested in could do this. Sadly for him, he was disappointed that night. He went home frustrated, and I was okay with that. My luck did run out when I was 16 years old. I was starting to drink alcohol and he supplied it for the underage kids in my community that were of like minds. I don’t remember which came first, but two incidents with this man happened that were of note. I was driving around with – let’s call him Steven. I was driving around with Steven. I felt important being a 16 year old, driving around with this older guy. He wasn’t attractive, but all the kids I knew liked him cuz he procured the alcohol. And I liked my rebellious nature. We drove out to the middle of nowhere, where he proceeded to rape me. I told him no, multiple times. And when he didn’t listen, I froze. Next time with Steven was at a friends party. I got mega drunk and started to throw up. (Still 16, mind you) I remember hearing Steven say there was no way anyone was going to go to bed with me that night. When I passed out, I woke up in the morning with Steven and I being in bed, naked. I’m sure you could imagine what happened. I certainly did.

Out of those two times, maybe I should have realized the problem inherent to my thinking. All I can say is I was young. There was a lot that I didn’t understand at that time. And I was incredibly scared, realizing that I had no one in my life that would tell me they loved me. The closest thing I had to feeling safe was the guidance counselor at school. All my friends were doing things that were unwise. It just seemed to be what I did … the patterns of behavior I chose. At no time did anyone say to me that I had the right to say no. That I should be careful with how I treated myself and my body. And that my sexual partners would manipulate me to get what they wanted, despite my thoughts to the contrary.

By the time I was 18 years old, I was dating a man named, let’s call him Joe. Joe was married with a wife and two or three kids. I can’t remember. He wanted me to get pregnant, in a bad way. And he was also incredibly abusive. I was living with his grandmother in her apartment with him. So, isolation? Check. Manipulation? Check. I did what he wanted me to do so he wouldn’t get angry. I can tell you that Joe was not a considerate partner… ever. Towards the end, he didn’t even have the courtesy to make it enjoyable for me at all. Dry like the fucking desert. And it was painful. He took so much from me. My self respect, my ability to say anything at all. He just took and took and took. Finally, I freed myself from Joe. In three years though, I was self destructive. I still didn’t have anyone who actively seemed to tell me they loved me that I believed. So, I still kept chasing the proverbial dragon. All the while, thinking that the objective I sought (love) was still within reach. Here’s the problem. I didn’t love myself first. I didn’t feel like I had a voice. I didn’t feel like anyone wanted me to feel love, internally and externally. There was always an emotional price.

I think there is a lot of blame towards women for their part in procreation and just the act of sex at all. Men and woman allegedly obtain maturity at different ages. It seems the victim of rape is always a liar, always has an agenda, asked for it, sent mixed signals, dressed in a way that was inviting and the man just couldn’t help themselves. And if pregnancy happens, demonizing alternative options to childbirth is so underhanded and cruel. Not every child is born under the narrative of “When a mommy loves a daddy very much….” Sometimes it’s incest. Sometimes it’s rape. Sometimes it might be a girl who wanted to be a woman, but didn’t understand what she was getting into. Despite knowing the physical activity of HOW procreation happens, life happens whether you’re stable. Whether you’re ready. Whether you have the funds to do it. When I got pregnant, I was with a man that I eventually married. In the end, he was required to pay the bare minimum by the state of Michigan in child support (at the time…. things might have changed since then). My ex husband had no job and legitimately told the court that he was leeching off of friends in California. When the fathers don’t want to support their children, the family unit suffers. And vice versa for the fathers that want to take care of their children and the mothers don’t help. There are victims on both sides.

It’s fine to live under the idea that families are a great idea to have. Children are our future… yada yada. Do we arm our children, both male and female to REALLY understand what sex means? I didn’t have that experience. I think there needs to be more discussion about loving yourself, having self confidence to say no, knowing how to protect ones self, more discussions about protection, accessibility to birth control, and not just sticking to the scientific of what happens. And continuing sex education into later grades when kids don’t chuckle at the mention of a breast, vagina, penis, or scrotum. Remember the mental aspects of sex, not just the physical. And trusting in the gut instincts.

I wish I had been armed with information better than I had been. I wish for a lot of things but I’m better now at 44 than I ever had been at 15. I’m grateful that I’ve emerged stronger and wiser. I’m glad my eyes are open now and I can enjoy my life. I just wish that I would have been armed with more preparedness. Two of my former partners have committed suicide, one of my friends dated my abusive ex Joe, to date, I’ve heard stories of people making decisions based on sex that have ended very VERY badly. And it could have been that way for me. At any point, I could have been a statistic because of my desire for love. I guarantee you. They are out there. Man, woman, and child.

If I could ask you to do anything, right now. Know yourself. Love yourself. Love your children enough to talk to them and protect them from being a statistic. And remember, it’s easy to demonize someone over their decisions. Something had to make them feel a certain way to decide what they did though. Do you know what that was? If you don’t, don’t cast judgment. Their story may be worse than you realize.

With love,

Janet