As readers who drop in here regularly know, one of the last
things I’m prone to do is advocate for specific sex acts of any particular
kind. And as far as I’m concerned, this is as it should be; since the central purpose
of my writing here is, for the most part, to inform, uphold and enlighten – to offer
new and engaging perspectives on the breath-taking wonderment that is our
universe-driven sexuality. Decisions about which actual sexual behaviors we
choose to engage in are intensely personal and situated within each person’s
constellation of likes and dislikes; they are choices shaped by desire, which in
turn is shaped by a multitude of factors including how we were raised, how
sexually open and adventurous we are, and of course, our mind/body responses to
what heats us up and curls our toes.
With all that in mind, if I’m advocating for anything at
all, if I’m standing up on my soap box and waxing philosophical, it’s for each
of us, as consenting adults, to claim with both hands our right to be sexually
empowered and fulfilled. To know what we like and to own our right to have it,
so long as our sexual freedoms don’t impinge on the rights and agency of
others. If I’d stake my credentials on anything at all, it would be on the
need for us all to take charge of our own sexuality and to leverage its
radiant power - especially for women - as
a source of energy, strength and renewal, so long as we do it in ways that hold sacred
each other’s humanity, as well as our own.