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I’ve been watching and re-watching “Sex and The City” with my sister and in addition to the very real, world relationship trials, tribulations and triumphs we can all relate to, I’m struck by the differences in the ways Black and White women regard and approach sex and sexuality. I won’t venture to guess that White women are having more sex than us. Who really knows? But I do believe they view it differently. And I’m not basing this theory off of a fictional television show, I also watched the very real, “Jersey Shore,” where both the male and female cast mates regularly took strangers back to the house to bone. And if that’s not enough empirical evidence, my sister, who lived with White roommates throughout her college years, corroborated the fact that the media depictions of a more frequent and carefree attitude regarding sex wasn’t too far from reality.
So why is this the case? What are White women being taught about sex that Black women aren’t? One White woman suggested that White women who are often presented as sexual objects in the media, are eager to perform those same roles for men; while Black women, who have higher rates and a history of sexual violence, and are often hypersexualized and demonized in society, view the act differently.
A Black woman, who happens to hang around a lot of White people offered that White women equate sex with feminism and being liberated and fun, like Amy Schumer.
I can’t say I disagree with either one of those theories.
The thought of the differences in our approach to sex and sexuality came back to my head again, after reading an article on Jezebel about body count. In it, this woman, a mother, who has long since lost track of her number of sexual partners (She said more than 30 but less than 70.), talks about body count, healthy sexual behavior and much more with her almost-19-year-old daughter, who is also sexually active. To be fair, I don’t know if this mother and daughter duo are White or not. But the attitude is still different.
Their very open and honest conversation made me think about the conversations Black women have with their daughters about sex and sexuality. In my house, we were raised in the church and were taught that sex before marriage is a sin. But I’m also very thankful that my mother always answered any question I had about sex honestly. But she also made sure to share her opinions. My mother explained to me that sex, in the right context, felt great and could be a very beautiful thing. She told me it was a very spiritual act and that you didn’t unite spirits with just anyone. She was sure to tell me that when you have sex with a man that there’s nothing more you can give him. That’s the ultimate. At the time, I thought that piece of advice made sense but today I think about things differently. I don’t believe that sex is the ultimate gift you can give a man. But, as my coworker, whose mother gave her similar advice pointed out, when they were telling us these things, as a middle schoolers and then a high schoolers, who didn’t quite understand all that we had to offer the world or a man, that may have very well been true. My coworker’s mother said that her mother said that waiting until marriage to have sex could provide more security in the relationship. My mother mentioned the fact that sex often fosters a different level of attachment that would a.) make it harder to leave a bad situation or b.) make the heartbreak of the ending of the relationship that much worse because of these heightened feelings. I don’t know if that’s the case for every woman, but as sensitive as I am, I was thankful for that piece of advice.
But in addition to the deep, philosophical stuff, my mother was also very practical. As long as I didn’t have children, my life was my own and I could do what I wanted. But if I had a child, I would have to devote my time and energy into making sure that he or she was good. My life would be put on the back burner for the sake of my child. And having watched peers and family members live that very life, I could see that she wasn’t lying. But at the end of it all, my mother told me that if things got hot and I just couldn’t hold it anymore, if I thought I was ready to have sex, I should come to her so she could get me some protection.
My other coworker talked about the ways in which her mother talked of cleanliness. Another one spoke about how sex was regarded as so evil, dirty and nasty that she couldn’t say the word “sex” in her house as a child because her parents didn’t want to have to answer any questions. The impact of religion on Black women and our sexuality can’t be overstated. Perhaps the reason we don’t get down, or don’t appear to get down as much or as freely as White women do, is because we carry around so much guilt about having or even wanting to have sex. So even if we are having it, we’re certainly not broadcasting the fact to any and everybody. Just the inner circle of girlfriends. Because there is likely another Black girl or woman who would be too quick to judge us. And it’s not just women either.
Far too many times, I’ve witnessed men refer to the very women they’ve had sex with as loose (literally and figuratively), hoes, skanky, dirty and a host of other unflattering names. It’s not just outside forces who have tried to paint Black women as hypersexual, men in our own communities do it all the time.
So, Black women are carrying quite a bit more baggage than White women when it comes to our views on sexuality, which no doubt accounts for some of the real or perceived differences in behavior. But these are just a few experiences and theories. Do you believe Black and White women approach sex differently? If so, why do you think that’s the case. And more importantly, what did your parents, particularly your mother or the women in your life, tell you about sex?
