I’m a 35 year old woman and I can’t even bring myself to finish the lyrical reference of the title of this article, which is of course Salt-N-Pepa’s 1991 classic Let’s Talk About Sex.
This article isn’t going to be graphic. I would barely rate it PG-13. There is nothing offensive or shocking about the fact that sex exists. And I hate that I feel so shameful about it. There’s no reason to, and I know that on a logical level.
Yesterday, I went to a local health clinic and was approved to start feminising therapy. This leads back to my article on having children, somewhat. The doctor did indeed have an idea on fertility post-HRT. She has had success with treating trans women post-HRT with something called a gonad stimulating hormone, more than likely hCG (but she wasn’t specific). She said she has even seen two of them successfully conceive children. And indeed, there seem to be some scientific studies and further research needed in this space. I found Legacy’s article to be pretty informative, but since they are selling a sperm banking service, it’s the most pessimistic tone possible. Still, my own doctor, for my own specific case, was very confident that with my current fertility parameters and the hormones I will be taking, there was a high chance of success of me being able to have a child later on if the opportunity avails itself.
This was a huge relief! I signed the papers right then and there! That was my only concern with starting HRT! Let’s go…
But then it dawned on me late last night that there is another aspect to this. The, uh, functioning of the, uh, parts that I do have, are rumoured to uh, potentially suffer consequences as a result of HRT, and I don’t know how to feel about that.
And I don’t know anyone I can talk to about this. I don’t even want to play guessing games about what will or won’t happen. I just want to talk about my feelings about it! And normally, when people are struggling with this sort of thing, they don’t want to talk about it with others because of concerns over safety. I feel quite safe talking about this with my close friends and even some of my family members. I just don’t feel comfortable with it.
I feel this shame, this stigma. Sex is a male thing, females don’t talk about it. Sex is something you keep between you and your partner, and literally no one else. Sex is something to hide away in the bedroom. Sex is a dirty word. Don’t even say the word sex.
I don’t know where this even came from. All of those sentences in the above paragraph are demonstrably false. My grandmother, when she was in Illinois, was a member of NOW, heavily involved in women’s liberation. She would be mortified if she read that paragraph! One of the stories I’m writing is about a female Dalmatian going through her own sexual awakening – in a tasteful and respectful way, don’t worry – though it’s probably going to be a separate publishing from Spotted. So on paper, I shouldn’t have any of these feelings. I’m able to speak about sex as a topic, I’ve helped others with their own quandaries. Why, then, am I so unable to admit to myself or others that I, too, feel those things sometimes?
Why does it make me feel tainted to admit that I think sex can be an enjoyable activity for one or more animals in a loving committed relationship?
I almost don’t even want to publish this, because of the shame I feel just typing the above sentence out. I almost backspaced it twice. My paw reached for the Delete key on the MacBook. I didn’t press it. I wanted to press it. I still kind of want to press it.
There’s a lot of newly surfaced area here to unpack with my therapist, I guess.