In Your Own Words
I’ve changed dramatically because of this place that never insisted I change. This place where it didn’t matter how—or even if—I was sexual gave me sexuality as something I could live. Sex became something I could know about, talk about, do, enjoy and choose. My body became livable. Imagine that.
A young writer powerfully talks about what it's felt like to experience some of the blatant and painful anti-trans bias and rights violations of the Trump administration.
What is sexual sin anyway? Impurity Culture's Hannah Boning offers her unique perspective on the bible, sin, and sexuality.
Think you might be asexual, or just curious about the ace community? Alaina Leary has the details.
As we change the narrative on disability and sexuality, we need to acknowledge that disabled asexuals exist.
Being bisexual entails a very specific struggle that isn’t talked about enough: being believed.
Feeling ashamed about sex or sexuality? Here are some steps to help you get started on turning that around so you can learn to love, not revile, your sexual self.
Some thoughts and tips on navigating sexuality as a fat teen, and dealing with sizeism and fatphobia.
How to tame those scary, growly feelings and use them for good.
As a young parent, being shamed for the decisions you have made and being stigmatized for your identity makes navigating through the world -- and pregnancy and parenting -- much more difficult.
I hid my fears and insecurities by desexualizing myself. Now I'm on the path of uncovering ways to unlearn ugliness as an identity.
The same disorder that makes me feel so insecure, tense, vulnerable and outright petrified, also convinces me that it’s protecting me from harm. The disorder that terrorizes me persuades me to keep it active, as a security system, even though it is anything but.
Scarleteen volunteer Sam reflects on the significance of The Rocky Horror Picture Show and how it relates to sexuality, identity, and her middle school experience.
It's hard to say when things finally changed for me. All the pieces were there for a long time, waiting to fall into place, but I just wasn't ready to let go and watch them tumble down. The idea of having to put it all behind me scared me. The idea of losing such a close relationship. Of losing something so familiar.
Life has scripts. Little socially-agreed plays that we enact rather than trying to figure out all our interactions from scratch every time. Many of them are very simple. There's also scripts for sex. Unfortunately, the most common script out there is terrible.
Asexuality saved my sex life. No, seriously -- I mean that. I will declare it from the middle of a courtroom, with one hand on Our Bodies, Ourselves. Asexuality, as much as sex-positive feminism and far more than any amount of "hon, you just need to get laid already," helped me to access a confident, positive, and excited relationship with my sexual self.
I was in an abusive relationship. Here's what finally got me to leave and the story of my journey in getting myself, my child and my heart and head out for good.
Be yourself, even if that means that there isn’t a label for you. Explain to anyone who matters who you are. You’re not your labels.
I researched sex before diving in. Nearly every article and website felt like it carried another warning. Besides worrying me about STIs and pregnancy, my research was showing me that my first time was likely to be painful. I like to mentally prepare myself for things like this and I thought I knew what sex would be like. But, I'm very glad to say that my story is different. It's good. No, it's amazing.
Teenagerhood should be a time of dreams and expansion. We should be allowed to open our inner selves up and absorb as much light and life as we possibly can. We should be, but other people are often too often invested in what they think we should be to let us be what we are.
"Do you have any children…?" It’s such a typical question to ask someone, and for many it’s an easy yes or no answer. For me though, I consistently find myself hesitating to respond. Generally when speaking to strangers, casual acquaintances, and even new friends, I opt to answer “no.” On occasion, I brave the consequences and answer the truth: “Yes, I’m a birthmother.”
When I gave birth, options were discussed with me regarding what to do about the baby. For me, there seemed no choice but adoption. I was now 17. The thought of raising a child was an impossibility. I wanted to finish high school. I wanted to go to college. I wanted to have fun. I wanted to hang out with my friends. I just wanted to continue to be a teenager.
I am a volunteer abortion clinic escort. This means I am there to walk with women coming into the abortion clinic. It's usually no more than a minute's walk from their cars to the front door of the clinic. Under normal circumstances, my help would hardly be needed. Except the circumstances outside an abortion clinic are rarely "normal."
One teen's experience with loving in plural.
We hear so many horror stories about first-time sex. Perhaps it might be good therapy to read about a first time that went well.