Do we need sex-negativity to be sexually liberated?

The difference between progressive sex-negativity and moralistic sex-negativity lies in the misogynistic and disempowering agenda of sexual moralism. Let’s casually dive in.

I open YouTube, and boom—there it is: an awkward gonzo report about Berlin's KitKat Club. A journalist who knows nothing about the scene decides it's FINALLY time to dive into the sex-positive party life. After all, he’s heard so much about it! He goes shopping with a young woman who claims to be a “scene expert,” picks out a harness with glued-on feathers, and meets the club owner in broad daylight for some PR shots. Yikes.

When did kink go so mainstream? And what does that say about our relationship with sex?

It seems like sex has to be harder, kinkier, and more exciting just to grab our attention these days. Beate Absalon’s book Not Giving a F*** takes a closer look at this so-called "sex-positive" trend.

In the book, the cultural theorist explores the opposite of sex-positivity: sex-negativity, and the associated feelings of awkwardness, shyness, and laziness. You know—those moments when you didn’t feel like having sex but let yourself get talked into it anyway. Or when you couldn’t keep it up consistently. Or when you decided to opt out of sex entirely and got an earful about it from your social circle (or, let’s be real, from Bumble ads lol).

Absalon feels bad for sex—because it could be something entirely different if we only let it, instead of constantly trying to get it "right" in just the right amounts. The societal directive is clear: Have sex. Then make sure you’re having it regularly—not too infrequently, but not too often either. Oh, and don’t forget to make it amazing! Like, with whipped cream and plush handcuffs on the washing machine, but don’t you dare drift off into wearing a diaper, fantasizing about your brother, or—god forbid—taking an extended break from sex altogether.

Of Lustless Sex and Sexless Lust

Absalon takes issue with how every so-called “inability” to have sex gets pathologized as a problem to be therapized away—whether it’s impotence, vaginismus, or asexuality.

As if there’s nothing worse in this world than not getting hard immediately or not wanting traditional genital-to-genital sex for a while.

“Impotent in the conventional sense,” writes Absalon, “is in fact someone who can’t tolerate flaccidity. Someone who won’t allow themselves not to have sex.” These are the passages I had to highlight while reading. “Potent, on the other hand, is the person who can just leave themselves alone for once.” Never read anything like that before, tbh.

As I read Absalon’s words, I start reflecting on my own relationship with sex. How narrow-minded and one-dimensional I’ve been in talking about it—and still sometimes am. How I rarely ask myself why I want to have sex with someone but often interrogate myself about why I don’t.

Here’s another question we should probably ask our sexual partners more often: Why do you want to have sex with me?

In her call to resist compulsory sexuality, Absalon aims to take the pressure off our sex lives and encourages readers not to treat sex as the ultimate jackpot. Because once you do, everything else starts to seem less desirable by comparison.

She asks: What if we valued helping each other grow, thrive, and unfold just as much? What if supporting the conditions for sustainable human flourishing was as hot as giving head? What if nurturing, accompanying, sustaining one another, and—ooh, scandalous—taking responsibility were the ultimate turn-ons?

I’m pretty sure someone might accuse Absalon of being prudish by saying, “Hey, let people fuck if they want to!” Do we really need to start de-centering sex after all the (only partly resolved) slut-shaming we’ve endured, especially if we enjoy having lots of wild sex without any problem? Wouldn’t that be just as problematic as the downsides of compulsory sexuality?

Desexualizing Is No Solution Either

And, of course, Absalon has considered this. No sex isn’t the answer either.

She points out: Whether it’s more sex or less sex, that alone doesn’t determine your position on the power spectrum. Both can express leftist, rebellious, empowering progressive politics—or reinforce right-wing, oppressive, conservative hegemonies. The key is to stay alert and distinguish between efforts to move away from sex on one hand and to celebrate it on the other.

What should we focus on, according to Absalon? The tone! Are people being patronized and told the “correct” way to fuck? Or is there an effort to recognize diverse practices of self-realization and intimate connection—where sexual activity is one option among many, maybe even a lesser or nonexistent one? And watch out—sometimes a wolf in sheep’s clothing sneaks in, where sex continues to dominate the narrative even when people claim to abstain from it.

This seems to be the case with the “new celibacy” trend that so many YouTubers are buzzing about. Even here, the focus remains: sex—or the lack of it.

While sex-negativity is a progressive force that opposes compulsory sexuality, it’s not immune to slipping into moralistic tendencies. Like: “Only those who have little sex are truly liberated!” Obviously, that’s not what we want.

The difference between progressive sex-negativity and moralistic sex-negativity, according to Absalon, lies in the misogynistic, contemptuous, and disempowering agenda of sexual moralism—which sex-negative feminists must reject.

Instead, Absalon advocates for solidarity with sex-positivity.

Both perspectives are valid, and both need each other to avoid replicating patriarchal mechanisms of oppression in the feminist fight.

“Consequently, we must refrain from condemning BDSM or penis-in-vagina sex as unacceptable for feminists (moralistic sex-negativity), as well as from falling into the illusion that sexual liberation alone is a revolutionary act (compulsory sex-positive).”

Amen to that. And a strong recommendation from me!