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.
Enough!
Enough!
