The definition of “Human female sexuality encompasses a broad range of behaviours and processes, including female sexual identity and sexual behaviour, the physiological, psychological, social, cultural, political, and spiritual or religious aspects of sexual activity.”.
For me, female sexuality is a part of my identity that I tried to deny for so long.
I would like to start by saying hi :) My name is Dindee. And I guess this is my story.
In all honesty, this topic scares me. I get nervous every time I try and talk about it as it’s such an important topic for me. But I don’t want others to be scared to talk about it like I was. It’s hard to talk about something you feel you can’t relate to anyone about.
To whoever reads this, even if it is none at all, I hope this will help you in whatever you are going through.
Everything will be okay in the end.
As most of you already know, female sexuality is and has always been a very controversial and ‘taboo’ topic. As an obedient young girl coming from a very strict, religious, Asian household, I had certain expectations to live up to; meaning I had to be the ‘good’ girl in every single aspect of my life.
When I first came to learn about sex, it was a blur for me as I didn’t know what it was. All I knew upon seeing it in a movie scene, was that it was a very intimate and pleasurable act. Without me going into too much detail for this to become smut, over the years I eventually came to know what I saw and how easily accessible it is.
That 'sex is bad' and 'I shouldn’t do it'.
My parents made sure that I knew who God was as I was growing up. I loved God, but looking back I realize that I didn’t know who God was. I just read the stories and told myself to love God because I was told to.
You might be thinking this isn’t exactly the story of female empowerment through sexuality that you were expecting. But this story is my life. My faith and my sexuality went hand-in-hand. Consequently, this often meant a lot of burdens for me as a young and naive girl torn between the rampage of hormones of puberty, and the expectations I had to live up to from my family, and my religion.
The closer I got to God, the more I punished myself for my ‘indecent’ thoughts.
They say it’s normal for these things to happen. For someone to feel ‘hot’, ‘heavy’, and essentially, ‘horny’.
But that was only applied to boys because I was told it was only normal for them to feel that way.
As a result, I felt even more abnormal. I couldn’t talk about it to anyone. I thought it to be too scandalous of a subject, too weird and vulgar for a girl. The times I did try to bring it up with my family in desperation for some sort of affirmation or comfort, their immediacy in shutting down the mere idea of female sexuality disheartened me.
So I kept it to myself for years.
It became an addiction. A guilty pleasure. It was one of my demons. The only one who knew about this ‘problem’ I had for the longest time was God. And it ultimately caused me to fail him more and more times the more I indulged myself in my thoughts.
So I had this paradox… A good-girl image I so desperately tried to enforce. But, inside I felt broken…dirty…as if something was wrong with me.
Fast-forwarding into my recent years, my life has turned upside down.
A-levels for me was my breaking point. Me in year 12 and the Me in year 13 were very different people. Prior to my A-levels, I achieved great results in my GCSE’s. Like many of my fellow Asians, we always have that certain feeling of sheer anxiety in our stomach whenever we don’t do well in our exams, because we know the aftermath of when our parents would find out. Even after all of my efforts, the feeling of accomplishment is one that I never really got to experience, due to the immense pressure in academics I had growing up. And, with that in mind, I think you can guess how my year 12 mock results went— My whole world essentially came crashing down. This whole life, image, and facade that I spent so long in trying to build up, broke. I felt like I was never good enough.
I lashed out at my parents - inevitably reaching my breaking point, all of the bottled-up emotions and years of repression flooded out.
I lashed out at God - questioning why, when I tried so hard to be what everyone wanted me to be, not once for my own selfish gain, and yet I couldn’t even fulfill that?
I even lashed out at myself - I felt that for so long I was someone who I wasn’t. I hid.
So, who actually was I?
The identity crisis kicked in. I had enough of it all. I felt like I was in American teenage movie as the rumors spread like a forest fire.
In year 13, I became more outspoken and confident. I rebelled against my parents. I did things for myself, and everything for my own selfish gain. And that’s when my sexuality kicked in. I was a ticking time-bomb.
In short, I became more ‘promiscuous’ as one can describe. I thought of it as the one thing I had control of. One thing that I get to choose for myself.
But it really wasn’t that simple.
Suddenly, the quiet girl was the center of attention. I felt as if I was in those cliché American teenage movies as the rumors spread like a forest fire.
In the matter of one school period, less than 60 minutes, a video that I didn’t consent to was leaked.
My name was in the mouths of people I never even spoke to. Everywhere I went I felt like there were shadows around me.
I was getting paranoid thinking that every single person knew things that even I didn’t know and was judging me. It was my worst nightmare. The nightmare I tried to avoid for so many years, fearing that I would be an outcast and criticized.
When I went into school that day I was so determined, thinking that for once, something was in my control. When I went home that day… I cried. I held my breath and stayed quiet for what felt like an eternity in the drive home from school. When my mother asked me questions when I got home, I couldn’t speak. I physically couldn’t even open my mouth. It was as if I wanted to just shout, scream, and cry. But I couldn’t. It felt as if a cage was around my mouth. The more I tried to say what happened, the tighter its hold was. How was I supposed to tell her what happened? How I felt?
I couldn’t.
I couldn’t eat.
I couldn’t do anything.
I went to my room, locked myself in, and stared at the wall crying.
Crying was the only way I could express it.
I don’t usually cry to my parents. I hate the feeling of being a burden to them when they’re doing so much already. But, my mother knew that something must’ve gone badly wrong. So, she just hugged me.
I called one of my closest friends snd she stayed with me on the phone until past midnight. I was scared. I was shaking. I didn’t want to go back to school. I just wanted to escape. To run away to a place far away and hide forever.
Why was I scared?
Is it because these people found out what I’m really like?
I was appalled by myself all over again. Failing my very own expectations.
“But you can’t show them you’re weak”
“You haven’t lost yet”
So I did a big girl thing.
I dried my tears and slept hard that night knowing what was ahead of me. The next morning I woke up early, going about my usual routine, pausing often to calm myself down in an attempt to stop my hands from shaking. I had to go back to school. If I didn’t, everyone would know that I was suffering. I didn’t want to feel pathetic and looked down on for a choice that I made.
I slapped my makeup on; wore my leather jacket (not school uniform, but heck, this was my rebellious stage remember ;) ), and forced myself to go to school. I even took off my glasses so I couldn’t see people’s judgemental eyes on me - that way it wouldn’t faze me if they happened to be talking about me or staring at me.
With trembling hands, and the feeling of nausea taking over my body, I smiled, I forced laughs, I made jokes. I didn’t want to lose. Then, I’d go to the girls’ bathroom at break times, lock myself in the cubicle with my entire body shaking, breathing heavily, trying to calm myself down. I looked into the mirrors and tried to dry the tears welling up in my eyes. I was still quivering. I wanted to throw-up. I often tried to make myself vomit in an attempt to stop the immense feeling of nausea. But it didn’t work. And once I went outside of those toilets, I was prepared to receive all the negative energy surrounding me, and tackle it with my own positive one.
That’s how it started, this confidence that I always yearned for as the mouse-like child I once was.
Since then, I started a new image of myself. “ABG” or “Asian Baby Girl” was an aesthetic I loved for so long because of the sense of confidence and empowerment that it gave. That was my life, an era of Dindee that I’m thankful for. It was hard because I had to learn so many difficult lessons on my own about my selfishness, desires, and choices. But, as with all things, it was difficult for me because this image was also something that I forced. I thought that everyone was against me, and so I had to make it look like I don’t care, that I was somewhat heartless, and that nothing could hurt me. But I am soft, I am sensitive, and I am human.
More trial and error, more mistakes, and more lessons have shaped me to become the person I am now. This would be a much longer article if I went into detail on what is my life so far! But, the most valuable thing I could share that I’ve learned in this continuous journey, is that you have to be a friend to yourself. You have to be the one to tell yourself to get up, that you haven’t lost yet, and that things will be okay in the end.
In all honesty, I am still quite broken from that incident. I am still healing. But the only difference between me then and me now, is that I am not lost anymore. I made mistakes and that is fine because I am only human. I like to think that God knows my weakest points. He knew what would inevitably make me fall, and used that to force me to rise higher. So, I am thankful. Me now isn’t defined by what my parents wanted me to be. The me now isn’t scared to speak her own thoughts and to express her own feelings. Me now doesn’t have to force a character, or a way of life simply because of a label or incident people know nothing about. I can just be me. I am loved and accepted. For a long time, I was trying to free myself of people’s control. And now I realize that I can allow myself to be free too.
This is such a big topic! And I could go on forever! I hope you’ll look forward to more stories from me on this because I’ve barely touched base! But for now, God bless and remember to be kind to yourself x
I want to say a huge thank you to Dindee for sharing her story about finding her female sexuality. On a personal level, I can relate to the feelings of repressing your true feelings, especially, when you have outside influences belittling these natural emotions. I hope you too felt reassured and less alone after reading this truthful and informative piece. I hope that every woman out there reading this piece will find comfort in expressing and embracing their sexuality. Following this comfort, you find empowerment, which I know every woman has within them.
Follow her on Instagram @babydindee and @ukcpocas - the society at Kent has got big plans this year! You can see more of her work as she is the social media/marketing manager.
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