The 'S' Word

by Namah

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I was 8 when I first heard the word “sex”. Now, don’t get me wrong, I’d read it several

times before. The greatest scandal of the second grade was this three letter word in our school prescribed dictionaries that you would just not believe. Page 822 was fervently flipped open to in every unsupervised moment we held. Never greeted with anything short of wide eyes and wide gapes. But I was 8 when I first heard the word. A verbal celibacy shattered. Some things became exceedingly evident to me, exceedingly early on. The transcript of an unspoken guidebook.

1. The word must always be preceded by a surreptitious glance. A quick jolt of scavenging before you get down to the deed. Make sure no soul hears you.

2. The word must always be a whisper. So low that it could be mistaken for the breeze. So low that you had to be in an uncomfortable proximity to even get a lick of it.

3. The word must always be followed by giggles. First, a gentle eruption. Like popcorn in a microwave. Then, let it roar.

In the mind of an 8 year old, sex was shameful and secretive and this must’ve been the

way it’s always been. But Indians pioneered erotica far before it had its own genre. The Kama Sutra was the great opiate for voyeurs, vixens and unhappy marriages alike. Thick, dense parchment vividly detailing sex in all its imaginable forms, tongue tied and wrist bound. Now, the Indian state board has reduced the vast and encompassing topic of sexual reproduction to two measly sentences in textbooks that do the bare minimum of barely acknowledging it's existence. Ancient Greece, the pinnacle of democracy, embraced sexuality with arms open wide and legs open wider. Man lay with

man and woman lay with woman and the gods observed from Mount Vesuvius, unbothered. Now, nations built on Athenian ideals brandish it a sin, detaining and incarcerating all those criminals who dared to love. It is so glaringly evident that we were not born intolerant but that intolerance was born into us.

So when did this war on sex begin? If you ask some, they will tell you it was when the

first woman was pinched onto earth, Eve and her audacity. No wonder we have been veiled for centuries. Eyes under burkhas. Legs stuck in stockings. Words cloaked in oppression. We are simply too dangerous. Women, throughout history, have unequivocally been portrayed as temptresses. The siren, with her allure; nothing but bait for the naive sailor who got lost in the labyrinth of her voice.The ancient hook-nosed witch, metamorphosing into a young hay haired maiden, trapping the prince in sweet-talk snares.The femme fatale, with red lips and even redder intent, who smirks through her fangs as she says,”I don’t bite”. “Sir, female sexuality does not pair well with rationality, may we suggest destruction instead?” Wombs always portrayed as weapons,

causing the destruction of empires one erection at a time. Might as wellcall the vagina vendetta, name the labia the lufftwaffe, christen the the clitoris catastrophic.

So sex was caged. Virginity became sacred, almost worshipped. We put a lock

on it and tossed the key to judgment who hisses every time your skirt comes dangerously close to revealing what lurks between your legs. Completely ignoring the law of physics, a new idea developed that you become lesser the more you put in you. Chastity belts, white cloths under hips and intact hymens. Our vocabulary expanded massively, what a time for linguistics! Slut, Whore, Skank, Sket, Tramp, Slag. (P.s: notice how they’re all female nouns.)This unnecessary laconism and shaming has side effects that should be a shock to no one. Misinformation, repression, health risks. All that I want to do is chant “consent and condoms” ( I’ve been told that “consent and the appropriate form of birth control” is not catchy enough) all day. Maybe make billboards to immortalise the words, spray paint them onto every lonely wall, whisper them into the ears of every unsuspecting bystander, etch them into every thought process. Their importance still remains unscathed.

Truth be told, we are all still those 8 year olds giggling at the thought of that

single syllabled sin. In age where one multi billion dollar industry is hell bent on shoving sex down our throats and another is resolute on keeping anything phallic far away from our orifices , it seems as though sex is spoken about all too much or entirely forlorn. Either way, it has metamorphosed into a grotesque reality. An elusive creature you need private browsers and cherry red lace to entertain. Conversation too often mimics catholic confession and victory declarations, two extremes unable to agree on an armistice of normalcy. And we are a generation born on the midpoint of this wide chasm, jerking off with our right hands and pointing shame with our left.

Sex has been draped in so many layers that we have forgotten what lies under them: a biological purpose. Something we were intended to do. An action designed to make sure our bloodline doesn’t fizzle. There is an evolutionary function to the dense nerve endings on our genitals, the surge of neurochemicals during an orgasm and our insatiable need for touch. We are not being tempted by the devil or “acting up”, mom. Sex is not the downfall of our generation, no hook up culture we’ve been indoctrinated into. We are doing what our bodies dictate. We are grinding to the rhythm of evolution and we will not be apologetic for your tone deafness.