I just attended a to two-day training about sexuality. It was training, just like any training. We discussed diagnoses and interventions. We role-played (not that, you dirty-minded reader!) as a therapist and a client. We also did several exercises, increasing body awareness.
But most importantly, we were given homework to write our sexual fantasy.
Classical Freud took place, as many of us forgot about the homework, or never found time to do it.
Some of us did. I wrote a little story, that I am carrying in my bag since then. I am carrying it around because I don’t know where to put it, because I am scared that someone might read it. That I may read it. That’s why I am angry.
I am mad at my school. At my private, Christian school. At my conformity and desire to be liked and since liked meant studying well and behaving like a good Christian, behave well I did. I actually believed in all the crap that came out of our textbooks, along with excellent texts about science, English, social studies…
I am mad that at age 30, gone to one of the most liberal colleges in US, having a blog called NO SEX IN THE CITY, I still feel embarrassed about my sexual fantasies.
I am angry that despite giving public lectures about sexuality, despite directing and acting in “Vagina Monologues”, despite having such understanding partner, I am still feeling embarrassment and fear.
My psyche has been trying to make sense of it all since I graduated from school. And that was a long time ago. I’ve been lucky, I had resources, I still have resources seldom available in Tbilisi. I go to workshops, I hang out with non-judgmental crowd. Not only that, I conduct therapy and I broaden my comfort zone through working with others.
However, step outside these safe sexuality zones and you’ll face my country. My country represses sexuality with Orwellian vigor, creates almost formal junior anti-sex leagues; it marches chastity around like national treasure, like a symbol, like some kind of Golden Fleece or St. George with a dragon.
Love is repressed to violence. Sex is repressed to anger. Celebration of life is repressed to death-festivities. Enough! Enough with endless forty-days of mourning, with joy-killing fasting, with sexless families and sanctified girls! Enough with the repressed energy of life, of creativity, of new beginnings and just plain pleasure!
It’s not good to suffer, pain does not purify, loving means touching and sexuality is not a sin.
Sexuality us our God-given privilege. Sexuality is our natural state of mind. Sexuality, in its vast meaning, is the core of our being.
Until we understand that we will always have political unrest, mass neurosis, we will always fight, we will always condemn “unnatural” acts, we will be generally depressed and dissatisfied with life.
And no party, leader, or president, elected through repressed aggression can ever change that feeling of utter dissatisfaction. Because it all started way too early, in those textbooks.
P.S. Feeling of freedom at Kazantip