Howl

Mothers Are Sexual Beings — Get Over It

Women can’t be sexually liberated until mothers are able to express their sexuality without shame

“I can’t have sex.”

I stopped bouncing my friend’s 6 month old baby on my knee and looked up at this abrupt change in the conversation.

“Why? Did something go wrong…?” I let my voice trail off, not wanting to pry too far into her personal business.

“No, no,” she said, shifting in her seat. “I’m fine now, everything’s…good.” She made a gesture toward her lap, as if to illustrate her words. “I just can’t do it anymore.”

“I can understand that,” I said. “When was the last time you slept through the night? I’m guessing you’re exhausted. Who wants to have sex when they’re exhausted?”

“No.” My friend shifted again, looking increasingly uncomfortable. “I can’t…think of myself that way anymore. I can’t do those things anymore.” She glanced at her baby, her voice lowering yet again. “I’m a mother, now.”

It wasn’t the first time I had heard a female friend say that, nor would it be the last. I also had a friend who stopped letting her husband touch her breasts after she became a mother because “those were for the baby, now.” She said it seemed perverted to receive sexual attention or feel sexual pleasure in that area of her body.

Some of my friends were matter-of-fact in this decision. It was as if they had ascended to a new social level, and the price of remaining there was to de-sexualize themselves. This was seen as a noble sacrifice by these women and if their husbands weren’t on board…well, too bad.

Other friends struggled deeply with their new attitudes about sex. They didn’t want anything to change. They didn’t want to lose that part of themselves. But they seemed to feel they had to —as if it was shameful to want to engage in sex after becoming mothers.

It has been a fascinating exploration of cultural ideas around sex that I, as a woman who does not have children, have witnessed over the years. Twenty years later, I’m still watching my friends struggle to detach from feelings of guilt around their sexuality when it intersects with motherhood.

And it’s time for that to end.

There are so many social stigmas around female sexuality. Add motherhood to the mix and it’s a damn miracle that women are able to get it up, at all.

Sexuality in our culture is often seen as shameful, except insofar as it creates children, which is, of course, a noble pursuit (so long as you are in a heterosexual, monogamous marriage when said children are conceived). It’s acceptable, to some degree, for men to express their sexuality, but women are expected to dissociate from any expression of sexuality or desire for sex — unless it is only for the act of procreation.

Once a woman has children, she’s told by her doctor when it’s okay to have sex again…and that’s usually it. No further information about how motherhood might affect her sexuality, at least on a physiological level (which is only one part of the equation). And god knows, there’s little to no emotional support around sexuality for women after they’ve had a child.

Add to all of that the insanely exaggerated canonization of motherhood in this culture, in which we revere the “selfless mother” above all other roles. If you want value, validation, social clout — just give up your entire identity outside of motherhood.

…there’s little to no emotional support around their sexuality for women after they’ve had a child.

Our culture asks women to cut away all the parts of themselves that don’t fit into the “good mother” category, never acknowledging that this is an impossible task. The parts of our bodies that are sexual are also how we gestate, birth, and feed a child.

Mother and lover are one in the female body…and nothing makes our culture more uncomfortable.

Our culture prefers compartmentalization. It would like to see women fully embrace sacred motherhood and turn our backs on our sexuality. That part, it seems, is to be made slave to the Mother, existing only to serve her.

You see this play out brilliantly in The Handmaid’s Tale — particularly in the deep exploration of this topic demonstrated in the Hulu adaptation. The women of Gilead have created a society in which they have finally achieved appropriate expressions of female sexuality. The Commanders’ wives cannot bear children and therefore, these couples have no sexual relations. Instead, they use the Handmaids as stand-in sexual partners whom the Commanders are expected to impregnate, later giving the Handmaids’ children to their wives to raise.

This very successfully solves all the “problems” around female sexuality. The Handmaids, being forced into this sexual servitude, experience no sexual pleasure during the act; the saintly wives become saintly mothers without ever having to enact a “shameful” physical exchange with their husbands; and the Handmaids, only used as vessels of childbearing and physical nurturing (breastfeeding), never have to experience any of those messy intersections of motherhood and sexuality.

In other words — this scenario is not at all far-fetched considering the ways we view female sexuality and how it relates to the role of motherhood.

I may not be a mother, but I nevertheless long see the mothers of the world embrace their sexuality in any way that feels right for them. I abhor this de-sexualized Sacred Mother that we have created. She is as much a danger to me as she is to all women, regardless of whether or not we have children.

Motherhood is sacred and mundane, just as our sexuality is. It deserves neither to be deified nor disrespected.

Turning motherhood into a sacred role is a trick. It makes us think that it’s a cause worthy of the sacrifice of our sexuality.

But it is not.

Our sexuality is such a big part of who we are as humans. As women. And yes, as mothers. We cannot become mothers without sex, after all.

Motherhood is sacred and mundane, just as our sexuality is. It deserves neither to be deified nor disrespected.

It might look like our canonization of mothers is the ultimate act of respect for women, but it’s just the opposite. It’s a deliberate and calculated move to cut out this essential part of ourselves — who we are as sexual and creative beings. While it seems as though we’ve been given power and respect, in actuality, we are sitting on an illusory pedestal. That power and respect is a bait and switch — it seems like we’ll get something out of this deal (all that social clout), when instead, we lose ourselves and any real power we might have as women.

How do we stitch Mother and Lover back together as they are meant to be? How can we do that when even we women feel such shame around these overlapping roles?

As a woman without children, I can see the beautiful sexual beings that reside within the women I know who have children. I see both roles — Mother and Lover — and how they overlap and it is beautiful to me.

It pains me when my friends say they feel dirty when expressing their sexuality after having children. It makes me sad to see them denying themselves pleasure because they believe that it’s more virtuous to de-sexualize themselves for the sake of the Mother role.

This isn’t something we expect of men. You’ll never see this culture work so hard to oppress them in that way, excising their sexuality so they can be lauded as good fathers. And it shouldn’t be so for women.

It seems to me that one of the most powerful acts of rebellion that a woman can demonstrate is to fully express herself both as Mother and as Lover. To feel no guilt about getting a babysitter so she can go out on a date — or just get laid. To feel no shame about receiving sexual pleasure in all the same parts of her body that grew and nurtured her child. To push back against any judgment or stigmatization of a mother’s sexuality.

It seems to me that one of the most powerful acts of a rebellion that a woman can demonstrate is to fully express herself both as Mother and as Lover.

This won’t be an easy battle. Our culture sees sexually empowered women as the ultimate threat. Imagine daring to topple the Sacred Mother from her pedestal in order to freely express ourselves as sexual beings — that will crumble structures to their foundations.

Could anything be more terrifying to those who fear a fully realized woman’s power? To those who fear giving up the known (though illusory) power of the Sacred Mother in favor of an unknown (though immense) power of a woman in her wholeness?

It’s scary even for those who do want it. For those who long to be whole.

Though I don’t have children, I will not be free until all women are free. Until mothers can set down this heavy mantle and just be themselves — fully and completely human in all its glory and mess.

And so, for that reason, I will be here, cheering them on, supporting every mother in her journey toward sexual fulfillment and realization.

This article was written for Howl by Yael Wolfe, a weekly column. © Yael Wolfe 2020

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