Make Sexuality Poetic Again?

[dreamingwithfairies]

I began this research project with the intention of basically figuring it out what it means to be a woman, mainly in the Western hemisphere. To start off, I was going to look at Judeo-Christian religion, I was going to go over the sexual revolution of the 60s and 70s and how it got us to today. But my intentions did not quite go according to plan, despite my detailed notes, my neatly presented plans, my list of reading & watching material. There was about a week between Christmas of 2025 into the second week of January 2026 where I was very sick, I couldn't focus due to irritation, pain and nausea. The best I could do is let my ideas brew, the concepts turning over in my head as I turned over to sleep on the other side. As I read Sylvia Plath's poetry, I already felt like my trajectory might change, or the meaning might. Then I went looking for something, I don't know what, images. I came across images of women. Women who had something special in my eyes. Who seemed real. Not performative. I began to realise something else; the concept of the divine feminine dissolved right before my eyes. I already knew it was an illusion, and I have noticed a growing trend of other women who are realising how silly and damaging the concept is. I thought I would arrive at this revelation through rigorous study, logic, rebuttals. I thought this was something I'd have to argue and fight for, given my personal history, that I'd had to take a hitherto undiscovered side or potentially controversial take. But what I saw in these women was… Humanity. Being a person. They are attractive, alluring, beautiful and fascinating not because of what they look like or what they're wearing or how they want to seem. It's because womanhood does not define their personality, their mind, their heart. Biologically, they are female - that is a fact, not a tool nor a privilege nor a curse. It is what it is. I have struggled with my gender identity, from the extremes of dysphoria in adolescence to a simple frustration regarding social expectation. I never met any women who were like me, and I went to a girls' only Catholic school. I wasn't even a tomboy, per se. I just felt like I was the wrong shape, psychologically, to become a woman. I was obsessed with my body, my reproductive functions, my sexual organs, my psychology and whether I was privileged or disadvantaged. Was I a victim of the patriarchy or was that a false belief, a self-fullfilling prophecy? How many feminine traits I reject because of what they're associated with, how many are authentic - or is it all a psy-op to keep men and women and everyone in between separated? Was this an attempt to force social order, whose price was the sacrifice of genuine connection beyond barriers and identities?

I'm still going to go ahead with the same plan but I think I'll have to change the tone or the narrative a bit. This is not turning into an argument or a fight for "true womanhood" as I assumed. It's so much deeper than that. It's about being a natural & free human beyond social constraints, expectations, limiting beliefs and fears. This does not feel like the victory I am seeking, rather a liberation of a different caliber. Not sexual. Something I cannot yet name, but it's something that I already am and always have been, something I couldn't see about myself, how pointless it is to entangle myself in gender constructs. I am a woman but that does not mean I cannot be exactly who I want to be and how I want to be, or care about how I am perceived.

There was another major thing.

As I was looking for the sources of these artistic images, I accidentally stumbled upon a Japanese account on X and got a psychological whiplash so strong it made me nauseous (and it's not my medication this time). I was deep in my thoughts about these women I could relate to, that inspire me, that I resonate with and idolise. I was excited, on the verge of a breakthrough. And I opened X to look for more art and beauty and instead I was hit with a well-endowed woman who was publicly bouncing her tits (fully clothed though) on video, smiling, putting up a peace sign. More photos revealed her showing off her tits some more, her sweaty armpits, she was getting a lot of attention and seemed happy, but it made me sick. It seems to stand against everything that these other admirable women embody - the artists, muses, intellectuals, scientists, activists, fighters etc. it's like a slap, an insult to what it means to be a woman. Or, hell, human.
 

(this is made by a Chinese artist, Guta2046 or 古他里 pronounced "Gu Ta Li"... the image whose source I was looking for before being bombarded by bodacious boobzzz)

I sought to understand this sickness and I could barely keep up with the thoughts that were rushing into my consciousness.

Sexual revolution, feminism, sex-positive rhetoric - those are the things I seek to understand because of how irritating they always seemed to me. I couldn't exactly find the right words, or why they felt so wrong to me, since I'm no conservative or religious person. I knew I'd arrive at the truth during my research because that's how my brain works. I feel something I can't name and then suddenly, unpredictably, it clicks and everything makes sense. This was one such moment, and it took me off-guard.

Part of me felt pity for this woman. The other part of me thought "good for her, it's a free world, let her do what she wants if she is happy with herself" but this latter statement tasted bitter, false like an artificially flavoured gummy. That's what made me nauseous. That's what I was told over and over and over since forever. It's the same disgust I felt as a child watching women like Britney Spears and Beyonce and Lady Gaga look like hookers and strippers while dancing and singing aggressively sexual vapid songs. Something I just didn't see men doing in equal measure, something that felt deeply messed up but I could never find the words to justify my feelings since I knew my feelings have absolutely nothing to do with praising modesty or restraint or anything like that, something unnamed was disturbing me. It's been a splinter in my psyche my entire life, one of many different splinters I aim to pull out in my new series of essays - searching for answers and truth out there, not within... I always enjoyed looking through Playboy magazines and did not feel any disgust at the women I saw, and this again mystified me. Was I a hypocrite? Was I jealous or insecure? Was it "internalised misogyny"? Or was I seeing something that I hadn't yet heard any woman mention - at least not any women who were young, liberal or apolitical, non-religious.

One source of disgust I was able to describe, in the flash of revelation that it followed.

Ideologically, I believe that there is a line between erotica/sensuality and sexual appeal targeted towards the so-called "male gaze" - to extract attention, money and desperation from them purely by jiggling tits and ass. The most base, vulgar thing. And yet it is a thing that takes on an entirely different nature when this sexuality is exclusive, privatised, maybe even hidden. Maybe repression - the kind I had - has made my sexuality especially potent and difficult to control. When you are a single woman who is looking for attention or affection, walking the line between being a temptress and a woman simply secure in her own skin is a line I didn't know existed until I crossed it. I did not realise the effect this would have on the men around me. I spoke a language that wasn't mine, even if it meant what I wanted it to mean. I never blame anyone for misunderstanding me, it's my responsibility to understand myself first or nothing clear or solid will come out of me.

I was disgusted at that Japanese lady not because she was showing off her body for profit. It's the concept that such a thing can be profitable, shared, published. I still strain to explain why, tears are threatening to pool into my eyes and I don't even understand why. Because I believe that there is a line between obviously trying to arouse strangers and eroticism - which is artistic, mystical, sensual, detached, both human and transcendent. Uninhibited lust attracts perversion while sensuality invites conscious desire. They are not the same, but neither is exactly better or worse than the other, which I'll try to explain later.

This reminds me of a Chinese neighbour I once had befriended. She was engaged to an Irish photographer based in Dublin whose specialty was nude photography. Not like that. I went to his studio, I saw his work. They were art. The classical kind. He chose fit, athletic models where you could see the muscles, tendons, the shapes of peak human strength - and they were all women. He was an extremely intelligent person as well as kind, not a creep or pervert of any kind. Last summer I went to an art gallery with my uncle - there were paintings of the naked female form, stunning pieces I'd actually buy. They invite and arouse a completely different part of the mind. Not separate from animalism and lust but not bound to it, eroticism is a higher state, and it's also strangely innocent - because the naked body is not inherently sexual, only in certain contexts. A contemplation more than anything. Ultimately, what it comes down to, is my belief that eroticism and sensuality is what can and should be shared and publicised - as art, beauty, contemplation, idealism. Photographic classicism. But carnal arousal? Very obviously working to give someone a boner? That should be aimed at someone close, personal, private. No one should have easy access.

I don't have an opinion on OnlyFans, sex work, strippers etc. people who get paid. It's pointless to moralise because selling sex is known as one of the oldest, if not the oldest, professions in human history. The only thing I want to do is encourage a different kind of sexuality to be celebrated in our culture/society - the kind that feels like holding your breath while yearning for more, rather than rising heat that ends up making you lose control because it's so aggressive and in your face. It's the difference between pressing buttons and simply... stroking them.
In my teens I had a phase that pretty much changed my life. I became obsessed with Japanese geisha. They are a representation of everything I am trying to express here but struggle to. They were female artists - performers, entertainers. But the exact opposite of what you'd imagine - they were not courtesans nor prostitutes. Their bodies were not for sale (this is a myth that began spreading after WW2) but their sensuality was. Their mystique. Their otherworldly charms and playful flirtations. Men had tea and chats. They could become patrons, if they were rich, they could conceivably have a geisha as a mistress but that was not why men went to geisha houses. They went for company, entertainment, banter and beauty - I was completely gobsmacked when I found out about this, because geishas sold something that had nothing to do with sex, even though sensuality was present. Everything about geisha is designed to invite hidden desires not because of what they reveal but because of what they conceal. Even their make up - the white face paint - is carefully considered - the back of their neck is always bare, and the white make up neatly forks around natural skin. To the Japanese, this was erotic. It was erotic because geisha were not to be touched or loved, they were part of an aesthetic tradition in Buddhism known as the Floating World - they were representations of otherworldly beauty, love and desire... Now they are almost an extinct establishment and mostly exist to entertain tourists. Go back further in history and you'll find that, like so many things, being a geisha was initially a male profession. Anyway, my research into geisha as a 13-14 year old was the moment I became intensely fascinated with Japanese traditions and history. It had a profound impact on me because their modesty was not like the oppressive repression of Judeo-Christian culture I grew up in. Though modesty is not the right word either, because prostitution was legal when geishas were in operation. You could choose, as a man, which road to take. Meanwhile, wives had no reason to judge their husbands or feel jealous if they went to see geisha. It was a common understanding that geisha existed outside of mundane society and were not bound by the same rules - they were artists and they were meant to be unattainable.
This industry - of selling beauty, romance and attention - has evolved in Japan into cafes and clubs, catered to both men and women by choice. I don't have my notes with me right now, but they do have a term for it, and it's pretty popular. The concept is similar, but the spiritual aspect is swapped for materialism. They will give you a good time, of course, but they will do everything they can to keep you spending as much money as possible and get you as drunk as they can while making you feel like a king/queen. No touching or kissing, just attractive people doing their best to entertain you whether through music, performance, games, jokes, playful flirtation or stimulating conversation. Even this version is difficult to imagine in a Western country, unless you count Hooters or something.

Final note is a very dumb one.

I was once a fan of something called The Cancer Crew on YouTube circa 2016. The key members were George Miller (then known as Filthy Frank or Pink Guy), Idubbbz, Maxmoefoe, Anything4Views, How To Basic, with honourable mention of Ethan Klein. They have since all gone their own separate ways, with George Miller completely leaving his old persona behind to become a successful musician. But one member, Idubbbz, has done the opposite. He's become something called a lolcow. Why am I talking about this? In case you don't know anything about this, Idubbs - Ian - started losing the public's respect after he declared that he is "fine" with his girlfriend (later his wife) having an OnlyFans account and making money off of her sexuality. His self-respect, confidence, creativity, energy - everything that made him famous - was gradually lost and chipped away while evidence of Anisa abusing him, mocking him and controlling him became more and more obvious to the point that even trolls started feeling sorry for him. I was fascinated by his downfall being so obviously associated with his very public relationship. Anisa really did ruin his career. It's not "woman-hating" for me to say that, she's genuinely a terrible person and she humiliated Ian beyond redemption at this point. The worst thing is that he allows his humiliation, encourages it, and considers himself a feminist for doing so, for allowing her to do what she wants to him, say the most nasty things about him on stream. He's dead inside. I was obsessed, because he is nothing like he used to be before her. NOTHING alike.

You cannot love someone while selling your body to strangers. Nor can you respect yourself while your partner sells themselves to strangers. I'm sorry, but you can't. That's some kind of narcissism or humiliation fetish or something.

There is something about monogamy I want to say, but it's again difficult to describe right now because I don't want to sound conservative or traditional when I am most certainly not. I don't judge swingers or people in polygamous (consensual) relationships even those sound like chaos that never ends well imo. But there is something beautiful about mutual possession in a relationship. Having exclusive rights to your partner and their body, and them to yours. Possessiveness gets either romanticised or demonised. People say it's either a red flag or they go feral over it, especially women. I never cared for it. But now I think it's beautiful. It feels safe, like coming home. Home is where your guard comes down, when clothes become loose, words are unnecessary, energy is relaxed. That's the ideal, isn't it? This is the perfect energy in which to let loose. Strangers could never give this, no matter what they give or what they promise. To seek approval and attention from them, therefore, is to attempt to empty a cup of water into an ocean. It is self-abandonment too, because desire and confidence should always come from within first. And now I worry, parasocially, what will happen to that big-boobed Japanese lady when she gets old? Not only that, but I know for a fact that having breasts of her size is a burden no woman should ever go through. Especially the smaller than average Japanese frame - I guarantee she has back pain, can never find a comfortable sleeping position, struggles (or has struggled) to find the right bra and fitting clothes. Not to mention the harassment from men and hate from women. If those breasts are actually real and not augmented, she was absolutely bullied in school by other girls. I don't know her story, but these are the kinds of things thirsty dead-eyed men ogling at her and giving her attention wouldn't even consider. I want to know what drives a woman to do this to herself? If that's something that should be condemned or mocked, I want to be the one to do it. But I want to be sure my pity is deserved, or whether women like this deserve to be bullied a little for the shame they bring to themselves as human beings, let alone as women.

That's part of why this research project is so important to me. To see more than meets the eye. Not to reject femininity, but reject the things that blind us (or me) to the truth of what people go through. Because while our experiences in the world and society and in our bodies can shape us, I firmly believe we are more than the sum of our parts. There is a soul. There is art and intellect. There is something that separates us from animals, even though we are animals, we do not quite belong. It is within that alienation from the natural world that's at the core of my fascination with understanding what it means to be human. Eroticism and sensuality is that which transcends the mere animal - that's what should be selling, what should be revered, celebrated for and by everyone. Eroticism is literally designed to be not only artistic but enticing - inspiring curiosity and exploration, savouring. Not a "fuck and cum" urgency that a big titty or big dick nice abs or whatever hot triggers a person you don't even know personally may try to press against you. There is a time and place, I really do believe that matters. That's why porn doesn't bother me at all. Bots aside, if it stays in its lane I see nothing immoral with it. What I hate is when it seeps into places it doesn't belong, where it cheapens everything. When it thrusts itself upon me without me looking for it. I feel like the 60s and 70s crossed boundaries that we couldn't really backtrack on without sounding like prudes or align with the political right. Maybe it's time we tried. Maybe women should be mocked, if they deserve it, without being able to use their perceived victim status as a shield from criticism and accountability... Enough.

I may not have explained myself clearly. That's what I'm working on. But a thing just clicked and I had to write it down. It's so weird and exciting to explore ideas that I haven't heard expressed before. I only feel them, I see glimpses of them. I know there is something special about Sylvia Plath, the first female creator/intellectual I ever connected to. What would she think about OnlyFans, I wonder? She died in 1963, before the sexual revolution really took off but it was on its way. What would she have to say about third wave feminism? What would she say about Instagram models and filters and fillers and boob jobs? "More power to her" or "what happened to decency"?
Brigitte Bardot died recently. She was coined as the "quintessential sex kitten" and she was quite confident and aware of her sexual appeal, but she was no dumb blonde. She was an activist, who fought against racism and advocated for animal rights all her life. What I see when I look at her is sensuality, the objective perfection of female beauty, but that's because she was authentic. She has a special spark that goes beyond physical beauty. She was outspoken, brave, intelligent, kind, talented. She was more than the sum of her feminine parts and I guess this is where I can sign off. I feel like that spark isn't as celebrated as it used to be. Women used to be beautiful even if they looked "weird", especially in the 70s and 80s. It's interesting to look at how the ideal female beauty changed over the decades when you look at supermodels that graced magazine covers - where are the Grace Jones' of today? She was stunning, an ethereal, almost alien beauty. I think she was breathtaking - but she had an incredibly sharp mind, she was eloquent, elegant, piercing, even intense. I must mention a Japanese model of the 70s/80s era as well - Sayoko Yamaguchi. Her beauty was likewise not typical for the Japanese ideal, at least not the one that has dominated East Asia since sometime in the 90s. Actress Meiko Kaji is my personal muse/ideal, her whole vibe is something I resonate with heavily. They weren't "masculine" they simply represented a femininity that edged beyond easy categorisation - because they weren't soft, not "girly" or maternal or really any of the classical archetypes women can be put into. They revealed a groundedness, a strength, a courage that is more common and unifying between humans, I think; they're merely presented in a different form, the yin to yang. They were women who belonged deeply to themselves first, above anything or anyone else. That's what I see in those images and what I feel is non-existent today - or if it is, those women don't share themselves, they're out there living their best lives and staying away from social media or entertainment industry. Maybe that's what it is. Every piece of your real life displayed online seems performative, exhibitionistic, if you're under the age of 30 at least.
 

(Sayoko Yamaguchi)


(Sayoko in an Yves Saint Laurent photoshoot in 1977... because ofc it's YSL)
 

For all its "intersectionality" feminism has become a mess that does more harm than good. Feminists are afraid to be controversial so instead they come off as unhinged. They over-identify with femininity and the fucking MAGA freaks are doing the same, mocking transgender people, lecturing what a "real woman" should be. Young men thinking that saying "your body my choice" isn't horrifying as fuck, and there are women who are like "yes daddy" it's a fucking crisis waiting to happen, I swear. Women's rights are being eroded in the subconsciousness of Western culture - maybe not in my generation, but the ones after me will have to struggle to be seen as people, I already see it happening at least in America (we in Ireland know what a disease their trends can be, unfortunately). Maybe I'm wrong. I hope I am. But reducing a woman to the sum of her parts is something I feel I was born to resist. It's in the pattern of my life, in my psyche, and the reason I need to get this essay done and done well. At the end of the day it's about being human and being free to be yourself more than anything, whether that means being a hopeless romantic and horny as fuck or not.