Becoming a Slut Without Shame
By: M. C. Frances
Tags: Life Lessons, Women, Feminism, Empowerment, Sexuality

Becoming a Slut Without Shame

Dismantling patriarchal power by removing shame from language

Photo by Martin Lee on Adobe Stock

As a high school freshman, I walked down the hallway in my cheerleading uniform on a Friday morning. Other students hurled the word slut at me more times between my locker and the classroom door than I could count. I kept my head down, looking at the speckled flooring, my pigtails covering my face.

Ryan and I dated for a few weeks. The night before, I let him finger bang me in his bedroom when we made out. I remember my head spinning during that first consensual sexual experience. I remember the warmth of trusting someone enough to let him in. I remember the shame of the following morning.

He told his friends I’d let his penis enter me instead of just his index finger.

So, I was a slut because I had pre-marital sex (that I didn’t have). I was labeled, I was filthy; I was unworthy of love and kindness. The label followed me until graduation.

Slut.

I used to hate that fucking word.

The funny thing was that I never had penetrative sex (sexual assault doesn’t count; it’s not sex; it’s violence). Not until I dated Chris for over two years and the two of us decided to take our fooling around to the next level. We discussed it, found a free clinic for birth control and condoms, and made sure we were safe.

Now, as a parent of young adult women (and a couple of tiny humans), I couldn’t ask for more than what my teenage self did to prepare and keep myself safe. That behavior is not slutty — it’s sexual agency and ownership.

But, I felt nothing but shame surrounding sex.

The use of the word slut as a shaming mechanism worked decidedly well. I remained afraid to explore my sexual self after high school. I married the second man who saw me naked (don’t worry, I’ve since corrected that problem).

I let fear and shame surrounding sexuality control my life and decision making. I let the patriarchal misuse of language make me small.

The thing about making yourself smaller is that when you shrink something the size of a sensual goddess into a good-girl box, pressure builds. Pressure is always the precursor to an explosion. So, I exploded.

Towards the end of my first marriage, I slept with a married man twenty-two years my senior. He made my body sing like a well-tuned piano, and I loved sex with him more than my grandmother’s German chocolate cake.

The night my then-husband found out about the affair, he called me a slut. He tried to force me to give him a blowjob while using words like whore, bitch, and cunt. My instinct was to cower, apologize, and stuff myself back into the good-girl box. But, I no longer fit inside.

Here’s the thing, my ex-husband visited a plethora of sex-workers while we were married. When I found out, I asked for counseling. When he found out about my affair, he used language to try to shame me. The patriarchy uses language to control women. But, this time, it didn’t work.

I’d already begun the work of living shamelessly.

Shortly after, I moved out of the house with a baby, a pack and play, and a suitcase.

I read books such as Pussy by Regena Thomashauer and Cunt by Inga Muscio. I danced naked in my living room. I bought vibrators, dildos, and lube. I got a membership to a porn site. I let my curls go long and wild. I let myself grow and take up more space in this world.

Then, I fucked my way out of shame.