Why women should keep talking about their sexual desires

By Priya Alika

The other day, I read this joke online: Why do women have orgasms? The answer: Just another reason to moan!

I admit I did crack a smile, but not because of the joke. The joke was puerile and sexist, but it reminded me of all the men who were uncomfortable with the idea of addressing women’s sexuality head on.It was so much easier for them to reduce female orgasms to punchlines (or myths) than to confront the stark reality of female desire.If they could not control it, or dictate its terms, it frightened them.


When the film 'Veere di Wedding' released in India, it created a furore because it showed women drinking, swearing, and behaving like men in a bro comedy. More importantly, it was filled with the kind of raunch that was traditionally the male domain. Indignant men on Twitter talked about being ashamed of the film’s masturbation scenes. Apparently, they did not appreciate the scene in which Swara Bhaskar’s character is shown masturbating with a dildo. (I asked myself whether a film that depicted a man masturbating would have raised a single eyebrow.)

'Lipstick Under My Burkha' was first refused certification in India for similar reasons: it highlighted female sexuality, and was deemed inappropriate because it was about women’s issues.

Indian men, I have found, are not particularly comfortable in the presence of women who own their sexuality. They shuffle their feet and cough when women joke about dick sizes, or when women compare the efficacy of sex toys. When we discuss our sex lives openly, they are dismayed: how dare we exercise the same freedoms that they do? They are happy to trade bawdy stories about one-night stands at office happy hour, but when I join in, they look at me like I should be ashamed. “It’s a non-vegetarian joke,” says a guy friend as he shows something on his phone to a male colleague. He won’t show it to me: “You wouldn’t be interested.”

Sex, for Indian men, is an act of conquest. It confers bragging rights on a man. Indian women, on the other hand, must keep their sexual encounters secret. We operate on the notion that what happens in the bedroom should happen in darkness and silence — preferably for the purposes of procreation. The idea of four women sitting round the lunch table (a la 'Sex and the City'), discussing their partners’ sexual performance, is still so foreign to the Indian context as to be laughable. (They are more likely to be discussing where they can find good cooks in Delhi NCR.)

If we do have to discuss vital issues of sex, we text our girlfriends discreetly. “Yaar, this is so embarrassing, but I had sex last night and I think the condom broke. Do you know where I can buy the morning-after pill?”

After all, Indian women are not supposed to care about sex, are we? Forget our mythology, or all the talk of female orgasms in the Kama Sutra. Forget that Draupadi had five husbands. Forget the erotic poetry of Mirabai, which one cannot read without blushing slightly. We aren’t ready to accept female sexuality in all its richness and complexity, or admit that it might actually be part of our culture.

We aren’t even aware of the basic facts about women’s bodies or libidos. As a society, we are deeply reluctant to go to gynaecologists, or to sex therapists. There are still scores of desi men typing “Do women have sex drives?” or “Can women reach orgasm?” sincerely into Google or Quora. Without proper sex education in schools, these hapless men are dependent on “sexperts” to teach them about female physiology. It’s a bleak landscape, and I wonder what their future partners have to look forward to.

And when women do gather the courage to talk about sex, we are shamed for it. One day, after publishing an article on casual sex, I wake up to a flood of emails and Facebook messages. “Hi dear, this is my address.Come over? We can share some whiskey on my bed.” When I delete these messages or respond with a “No”, these are followed by: “But you talk about casual sex and all such things... you have no shame, so why not meet me?”

These men cannot understand that a woman might have a healthy sex life and still have the audacity to be discriminating. As a society, we are comfortable with the virgin-whore dichotomy. Either we are Sati-Savitris, or we are completely wanton. Anything in between — or anything slightly more complicated — is unfathomable to Indian men.

Where do we go from here? If we are to dismantle the oppressive notions and stereotypes that we have about women and sex, we must encourage women to speak up. We can’t censor every movie that shows women masturbating or making dick jokes. We can’t shame every girl into shutting up about her desires or her sex life. It is just as important for women to have satisfying sex as it is for men.

In response to the criticism of 'Veere di Wedding', Bhaskar tweeted: “In a culture that largely silences or ignores or shames female sexuality, showing a girl gratifying herself in a film in a non-judgmental way is empowering.”


Perhaps the best response to narrow-minded Indian men is to keep telling these stories of women’s sexuality and sexual desire — at least until they learn that it’s entirely natural.

( Priya Alika is a writer and lawyer)