We live in a society marinated in outdated myths and taboos, their stain seeping into every corner of our existence. These ingrained, often unconscious beliefs shape how we see the world, especially when it comes to gender. As a woman, I've been told countless times that I wasn’t capable of anything, that I’d never make it. My sex has been labeled "the weaker one," yet I have never felt weak—not once. I often see it in the eyes of men: the fear of confronting a strong woman who knows her own worth. Well, I’m saying enough. We’ve shouted before, and we’ll shout again, but the patriarchy still clings desperately to the negation of human dignity.

At its rotten core, our society thrives on sexism and patriarchy, recycling the same tired power dynamics as if they were the only script in town. Every day, women are forced to fight against prejudice, dodge catcalls, endure leering eyes, confront the pay gap, and tackle sexism that blindsides us like a cheap shot. In this farce, women are boxed into clichéd roles, stripped of control over our bodies and our sexuality.

Consider the ridiculous yet all-too-common expectation that women should be nurturing caregivers above all else—as if a woman’s ultimate ambition should be to win the title of "world’s best unpaid babysitter." This expectation traps women, limits their choices, and scrutinizes their sexuality, punishing them for daring to color outside the lines and assert their own desires.

To add insult to injury, we blame ourselves. We’re taught to feel ashamed of our own desires, to view masturbation as taboo. Even in intimate moments with a partner, we find ourselves tangled in paranoia and self-doubt because we’re not "supposed" to have a sexuality of our own, to understand our desires, kinks, or fantasies.

If there were genuine attention to sexual and emotional education, perhaps we women could finally be free. How many more women must suffer? How many more must lose their lives? The narrative is becoming murky; if nothing changes, society and governments that fail to protect us will increasingly be seen as accomplices, perpetuating the patriarchy at every turn. Men command, rule, and hold up the pillars of the world we live in, deciding the fate of far too many women.

As a woman, I find myself constantly grappling—not just with my own battles, but with the deep pain of seeing my sisters forced to suppress their femininity and authentic selves. My struggle is our struggle. It’s not just mine; it’s all of ours. In a world so deeply rooted in sexism and patriarchy, we are confined to a paradigm that traps us in stereotypes and strips us of our autonomy over our bodies and our sexuality. But it’s not just men who are the problem; many women fall into this trap too, conforming completely, belittling themselves, and genuinely believing this is the way things should be.

Why do we keep doing this to ourselves—holding onto outdated notions that only serve to diminish us? Why do we continue to highlight non-existent differences, differences manufactured to keep us in our place? And why should women be forced to identify as something society has pre-written for us, something that doesn’t reflect our true selves? Isn’t it time we rewrote the script and defined ourselves on our own terms? It’s time to break free from these imposed identities and start living authentically, embracing our full selves without fear or apology.

We are constantly objectified, treated as if we are not human beings with our own stories to tell. Consider an example to illustrate this: Picture a luxury car commercial where a glamorous woman is sprawled across the bonnet, her body positioned perfectly—not to share her own narrative, but to enhance the car's appeal. She isn’t there as an individual; she’s presented as part of the car’s package—a sleek, desirable accessory designed to catch a man’s eye. Her purpose is to elevate the car’s prestige, suggesting that both she and the car are merely objects to be desired and admired by men.

This type of advertising isn't just selling a car; it’s selling a damaging narrative about women. It reduces us to mere visual objects, reinforcing the outdated idea that our value is all about physical appeal and our ability to catch a man’s eye. It tells us that our primary purpose is to be objects of desire, not individuals with our own ambitions, stories, and dreams.

When we see ourselves portrayed this way, it erodes our sense of self. It whispers that our worth is tied to how well we fit into these narrow, often absurd standards of beauty and desirability. It can make us doubt ourselves, second-guess every step we take, every choice we make, and force us into trying to meet these impossible ideals.

This doesn’t just affect how we see ourselves; it perpetuates a culture where our achievements, intellect, and contributions are overshadowed by how we look. It reinforces the toxic narrative that a woman’s most significant asset is her physical attractiveness, not her skills, ideas, or character.

This example highlights the urgent need to change how women are represented in media and advertising. We need to move beyond objectification and start portraying women as the complex, autonomous individuals we are, with our own stories to tell. By challenging stereotypes and advocating for more nuanced and empowering representations, we can help dismantle the damaging paradigms that limit our control over our own bodies and lives.

In this twisted world, our sexuality is reduced to something ornamental or functional, serving the desires and expectations of others, but rarely seen as a source of personal power and self-determination. Imagine a world where desire is based on mutual respect and understanding, not outdated roles. Right now, many women are taught to see men as the primary objects of their desire, while their own role is to be admired or pursued, cast as passive players in their own stories, while men are the active subjects with desires and ambitions.

We don’t have any agency. It’s not just about who’s attracted to whom; it’s about how we see ourselves and each other in this intricate dance of human connection. We might start seeing ourselves only through the lens of being desired, rather than as active, desiring individuals who can shape our own experiences and define our own paths.

It's time we changed the way we think. This isn't just about swapping roles; it's about reimagining how we see ourselves and each other. It’s about embracing the bold idea that every person—no matter their gender—has their own unique, complex desires and deserves to be seen as an equal in the dance of attraction.

Imagine a world where men and women both see each other as complete, equal subjects in the realm of desire. Men aren’t just cast as the ones doing the chasing; they’re recognized for their own layers of desire and complexity. Meanwhile, women see themselves not just through the eyes of others but through their own, acknowledging their own desires and agency. This shift creates a foundation of respect and mutual understanding, a place where everyone is valued for their whole selves.

In this more balanced view, desire becomes something shared, marked by respect and understanding rather than stuck in those tired, one-dimensional roles. It’s about crafting a world where both men and women are empowered to be both desiring and desired, adding depth and dignity to our interactions.

Take Audre Lorde's standpoint on eroticism versus pornography in her essay “Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power.” This isn’t just an abstract idea; it’s a wake-up call to reclaim what’s been systematically stripped away. For Lorde, eroticism is a profound expression of personal power and self-awareness—about deeply knowing oneself, feeling intensely, and living fully. Pornography, on the other hand, reduces this richness to a cheap commodity, turning women into objects and robbing them of their place as autonomous, desiring beings. Mainstream porn often presents women as passive, flat characters, nothing more than props for male pleasure.

This contrast exemplifies how controlling female sexuality has always been a favorite tool of the patriarchy. Erotic expression, as a form of personal power, is a direct challenge to patriarchal control. Modern advertising props up beauty standards that limit women’s value to their looks. Naomi Wolf’s “The Beauty Myth” reveals how these standards erode women’s self-esteem and autonomy, perpetuating a system that prioritizes physical appearance over personal agency. Wolf cuts through the façade to show how these beauty ideals function as a powerful tool of control.

The truth is, the patriarchy has always been invested in controlling and distorting female sexuality to maintain its grip on power. Silvia Federici’s “Caliban and the Witch” explores how capitalism and religious institutions collaborated to suppress female sexuality, turning it into taboo and a means of social control.

Lorde’s distinction isn’t just theoretical; it exposes the real ways patriarchal systems hold onto power. Erotic expression challenges these structures directly, which is why patriarchal society works so hard to twist and suppress it. Eroticism is about self-awareness and deep personal power; pornography, in contrast, reduces women to mere objects to be consumed. It’s almost as if the industry behind it has a motto: “Women as objects? Perfect. No depth required.”

Mainstream porn often portrays women as passive props, mere accessories to male pleasure. It’s like a poorly scripted play where women are relegated to the role of “Pretty Props.

The patriarchy has always been fixated on controlling female sexuality, and let’s be honest, it has been disturbingly effective. If you read Silvia Federici’s “Caliban and the Witch,” you can notice how capitalism and religion teamed up to turn female sexuality into a dirty secret and keep it repressed. It’s as if they held a secret meeting and decided, “Let’s make this as repressive as possible. Control is power, after all!”

So when Lorde discusses the power of eroticism, she’s not just making a point; she’s challenging the very foundations of a system that thrives on sidelining women in their own narratives. Erotic expression is a direct threat to the patriarchal playbook. And isn’t it ironic? The very thing that empowers women the most is what they’re most afraid of.

Notes

Federici, Silvia. Caliban and the Witch: Women, the Body and Primitive Accumulation. Autonomedia, 2004.
Lorde, Audre. Uses of the Erotic: The Erotic as Power. Crossing Press, 1978.
Wolf, Naomi. The Beauty Myth. William Morrow and Company, 1991.