I Refuse

Recently I wrote an article that I didn’t publish. Whenever I write an article I always get feedback on it to make sure that I am being responsible with my voice. I got consistent feedback from everyone on this article “I see what you’re saying…but it gives me the ick.” The reason that it gave people the ick wasn’t the content. It was because of me. Specifically because I am a man. The article was about Yoni (the feminine sexual and creative center).

So often men who talk about women’s sexuality on the surface seem to be saying “Women should get in touch with their sexuality because it’s empowering” which it absolutely is, but the hidden agenda underneath says, “because it serves me.”

This fills me with rage and disgust. The way that entitled men objectify and take advantage of women’s bodies is deplorable. And what it results in is a no win situation. Two options: harm or silence. Speak about feminine sexuality and risk being lumped in with the men who have objectified and exploited women’s bodies. Or stay silent which makes healing and bridging the gap impossible.

This false dichotomy doesn’t protect anyone, it isolates us. It keeps people talking only within their own circles, where healing between groups becomes impossible. And yet, in one-on-one contexts, where there is explicit consent, boundaries, respect, and safety, I’ve seen how much healing becomes possible.

That makes the demand for total public silence feel less like protection and more like erasure. It is infuriating to be told that this kind of work must be abandoned publicly altogether. The fury is not pointed at women. It makes perfect sense that they would defend themselves after being harmed by men over and over again. The fury is at the men who have done the harm and have created the divide.

I don’t believe that the answer to harm is silence and segregation, or that understanding requires identical experience. What it does require is nuance. The nuance between authority and service. I agree that someone who is not part of a group should not be the authority on it. But that doesn’t mean that they can’t meaningfully serve it.

I don’t see my role, publicly or privately, as authority. I see it as service. Autonomy always stays with the person I’m working with. My job is not to define anyone, but to support their own clarity.

I will not publish the article. But I will continue to stand alongside women in rage at the men who made this conversation unsafe. True service begins at the boundary of discomfort. I will not stop this work or this conversation simply because it is hard.

With care and service,

Sean