avatarY.L. Wolfe

Summary

The article discusses the implications of the term "dirty girl" in sexual contexts, exploring the balance between personal enjoyment and the perpetuation of harmful cultural beliefs about women's sexuality.

Abstract

The author reflects on the personal and cultural significance of being called a "dirty girl" during intimate moments. Initially finding empowerment in the term, the author later questions its connotations, which suggest that women should not actively pursue or express sexual pleasure, and that sex is inherently shameful. Despite enjoying the term, the author acknowledges the need for conversations about the underlying sexism and the possibility of using more affirming language to celebrate sexuality without negative implications. The article suggests that while the term "dirty girl" can be exciting, it may also reinforce damaging societal attitudes towards female sexuality.

Opinions

  • The term "dirty girl" can be thrilling and affirming for some women, signaling a break from societal norms that traditionally suppress female sexual expression.
  • The use of the term may perpetuate the idea that a woman's pursuit and expression of sexual pleasure are inappropriate or taboo.
  • There is a concern that taking pride in being labeled "dirty" could lead to an unhealthy desire for male approval, reinforcing a dynamic of female sexuality being validated by men.
  • The author suggests that alternative terms, such as "lioness" or "vixen," could be used to positively acknowledge a woman's sexual assertiveness without the negative connotations of "dirty girl."
  • The article calls for open discussions outside the bedroom to address the cultural baggage associated with female sexuality and to promote a healthier, more empowering view of women's sexual pleasure.

What Does “Dirty Girl” Really Mean?

Are we failing to call out invisible sexism in the bedroom? Or is this just a harmless moniker?

Photo by Shifaaz shamoon on Unsplash

I used to love it when my partner called me a dirty girl in bed. I knew what he meant by it — that he was turned on by my blatant pursuit and occasionally unabashed expressions of pleasure.

Something about the moniker “dirty girl” made it all the more pleasurable — as if my actions were obscene, shameful, illicit. And in a way, I felt like they were. It had taken me ten years to even begin to feel comfortable expressing myself in the bedroom. Even by that point, I still had a long way to go. I still harbored those feelings that, as a woman, pursuing sexual pleasure and expressing that pleasure were somewhat taboo.

Over the course of our relationship, I began to pay more and more attention to the circumstances that would inspire him to pull out the mock-admonishing “dirty girl” comment:

  • When I went down on him without him indicating that he wanted me to.
  • When I pulled him into an empty room just to kiss him and put my hand down his pants.
  • When I sent him a particularly randy text message in the middle of the day.
  • When I whispered how much I wanted him at inopportune moments, like in the grocery store.
  • When I was having an orgasm.

Interestingly, all of these situations seemed to involve me making a sexual advance or expressing sexual pleasure.

I took notice when I observed this elsewhere, too. It’s so common in the movies and on television — a racy comment or a solicitous advance encouraged by the male’s response that she’s a dirty girl, so filthy. Sometimes it’s cute, sometimes it’s funny, sometimes it’s sexy. It seems to work for audiences, seeing how often you’ll find a moment like this in entertainment.

It certainly worked for me. Sometimes, it made me absolutely ravenous when my partner grabbed me by the back of my neck and whispered it in my ear. (Which of course, worked out well for him, too.)

But it occurs to me that this moniker illustrates damaging cultural beliefs that I don’t want to see perpetuated. Things like:

  • Women shouldn’t assertively pursue sexual pleasure.
  • Women shouldn’t express their sexual pleasure.
  • Sex is dirty (wrong, immoral, illicit, naughty, bad, etc.).

Further, it bothered me how much pride I took in being called a dirty girl. Yes, it meant that I had overcome years and years of deeply embedded shame around my sexuality, but I didn’t want my sexual confidence to start getting twisted up with a growing desire for his approval of my “dirty” behavior.

Despite all my conflicting feelings about being called a dirty girl, I still enjoyed hearing it in those urgent whispers, or seeing the words flash across the screen of my cell phone. And when he’d come home from work and growl into my ear whatever filthy thing he wanted me to do to his nether regions later that night, or share a particularly randy daydream he’d had about me, I’d flush from neck to cheeks, grab him by his shirt and call him dirty in a tone that very clearly illustrated how much that dirtiness inflamed me.

Today, I wonder what I would say if my next lover called me a dirty girl. I don’t think I’d mind. I certainly wouldn’t object. And let’s face it, who wants to unpack our culture’s entrenched sexism mid-thrusting?

I think there will be conversations about it, though — outside the bedroom. I’d like to celebrate the pursuit and expression of sexual pleasure for both of us which might be better accomplished with simple oratory precision.

For instance, how about calling me a lioness? A vixen? How about telling me how much my wildness is a turn-on?

Sure, none of those have the inherent implication of illicitness like “dirty girl” does. But do we always need to feel like we’re indulging in something naughty just to get off? Hopefully not — and if so, that’s another story for another day.

In the meantime, I’m ready to have more conversations about being a “dirty girl” and what that really says about women and sex. Because I want to be wild and free, loud and shameless and — no matter how well-intentioned the word is — I’m not sure we should label that as dirty.

© Yael Wolfe 2019

Graphic: Yael Wolfe / Photo by Marcus Dall Col on Unsplash
Feminism
Women
Sexuality
Howl By Yael Wolfe
Freedom
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