Art by Dominic Bradley
I’ve always enjoyed a robust sex drive. I’m also a survivor of sexual violence. Those two things have been difficult to reconcile in the past, and, frankly, it’s still a struggle sometimes. However, I was determined not to let sexual violence crush my sexuality, which I consider to be part of my birthright. If you feel as I do but are casting about for ways to support your sex drive, read on. Here are five healing strategies I have used to good effect.
Unpacking “what is sexy”
My views on what I find “sexy” about myself and others have continued to evolve over the years. The list includes both physical attributes and personality traits. When I look at myself, I can appreciate my eyes, my full lips, my thick thighs. I tend to think others find my transparency and humor intriguing. I know I’m drawn to the way folks walk. I need to see what their hands, particularly the nail beds, look like. And I’m fascinated by belly buttons. Ultimately, I am interested in whether or not they have the depth, passion, and purpose to go along with an attractive package. I often people-watch, and, as I drink in the smorgasbord of looks and mannerisms, I allow myself to be pleasantly surprised at humanity. I allow myself to respond authentically and feel the outer limits of what I previously considered desirable stretch onwards.
Grounding
Grounding is critical. If I can’t perceive myself as inhabiting my body or if being in my body is painful, it’s hard to think about preserving my sex drive. One practice I enjoy is working on my feet--exfoliating as well as clipping and painting my nails. Although I frequently admire the results, I don’t do it purely for aesthetic reasons. It’s to remind myself I have a foundation that’s carrying me even when I’m at my lowest. There are certain rituals I keep, such as moisturizing post-shower with handmade infused oils, designed to facilitate an opportunity for me to lay hands on every part of my body I can reach. I give myself the gift of supportive, non-sexual touch. Hard physical activity is also grounding for me, and it’s enlivening. I watched footage of an Afrobeat class I took recently, and it struck me “Wow, I’m building a movement vocabulary in my body that doesn’t have to do with a violation.”
Research
I always want to lubricate (ahem) my sex drive by seeking out resources on healthy sexual relationships. The Ultimate Guide to Sex and Disability has been incredibly helpful in large part because it encouraged self-definition of sexual feelings. It helped me lend legitimacy to sexual responses that I had been told were “odd.” Like having an orgasm due to a very full bladder. Like having an orgasm while holding someone’s hand. Or having a sexual experience that felt a lot like having acupuncture treatment in terms of the way energy moved around my body. I was able to to take advantage not only of the factual information provided, but also exercises that guided me to greater self-knowledge and body confidence. I started reaching for a sense of community on social media. On Instagram, I follow O.school, which bills itself as “a judgment-free resource for info on sex and relationships.” And I love seeing the qpocpersonals feed there, too – seeing people describe who they are and what they want is a powerful aphrodisiac that I can consume from the relative safety of a mobile device. Concurrently, I have explored kink and hook-up groups on Facebook.
Communication
Communication is super, super important. Yet no one really taught me how to communicate about sex. I felt quite lopsided in my competencies. I could be a fierce advocate for others, but I had trouble saying that I didn’t want my chest touched or my mouth covered during a sexual encounter. I’ve seen excellent variations on yes, no, maybe lists that have helped me talk about desire with potential partners. I have discovered that the security of what’s known as a “negotiation date” reduces surprises and keeps me more present during sexual encounters. Sometimes, they happen in person. Sometimes, they happen over text. Text messaging is great for me because I feel more emboldened and empowered to be explicit. My strongest form of communication happens to be written, so text messaging ensures that I don’t feel put on the spot. The more I attend to how and why I communicate sexually, the more I become aware of potential growth areas. For example, eye contact feels scary to me, and I have taken steps to avoid it in sexual encounters. I’ve begun to ask myself why I am so afraid to be seen and considered discussing it with sexual partners.
Masturbation
I have cultivated a masturbation practice since I was nine years old. I raise this as a practice of exploration, rather than a singularly focused orgasm-producing practice. I now know fingers feel different than toys. I know I can be multi-orgasmic in the right circumstances. I know when things will conclude quickly versus when I can extend a session. I know in what position my body feels most supported. I know I indulge in certain fantasies while masturbating that I would never seek to make a reality. I can be completely self-serving with zero consequences. I give myself permission to be loud with myself, and it is satisfying to hear the pitch and tone of my own voice. I know that I like to be naked afterward. Such self-knowledge is absolutely priceless just on its own and is a platform for me to engage with potential sexual partners. I have reclaimed something that my indoctrination told me was dirty and wrong. Speaking only as an individual, I believe I’m slowly getting right with my sex drive because I am embracing masturbation.
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If by now you’re feeling a touch overwhelmed, that’s okay! This is a concentrated take on a very sensitive subject. The last thing I want to do is create yet another set of expectations to meet; we all contend with enough cultural pressure about sex. I hope that you can treat this as an entry to the kind of exploration that you want to have with your sex drive. Feel free to onboard what resonates with you and leave the rest. Remember: no matter who you are or what happened to you, you are entitled to express your sexuality in ways that are safe, affirming, and pleasurable.
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Image description:
Black non-binary person is standing in front of a pink gradient and three yellow and red orchid plants. They are naked to the waist with one hand behind their head. We can see their pit hair. Blood drips from the person’s mouth down their chest, and they are smiling with their eyes closed.
About Dominic Bradley:
Dom Bradley is a multimedia artist based in Brooklyn, NY. They are also an editor of Rest for Resistance and a facilitator with QTPoC Mental Health.
