Shame Versus Privacy
Ending one doesn’t mean the death of the other
In the years that I’ve been educating about sexuality, one message has remained consistent. Whether I’m teaching people how to give better blowjobs, or discussing how to safely sext, or even debating the impact of porn on our society; I always find a way to communicate that the most dangerous, damaging thing about sex is the shame we have towards the topic. As individuals and as a society, our shame about sexuality keeps us from having important conversations that are essential to being healthy, happy, and productive. Shame about sex keeps abuse victims in the closet, keeps embarrassed patients from being honest with their doctors, and keeps many of us from experience satisfying sex lives with our partners. The less shame we feel about sex, the better off we’ll all be.
Usually my message is well received, but from time to time there will be a person who seems put off by the idea of reducing shame. “I don’t want to be open about my sex life,” they’ll say, fearing that an anti-shame stance necessitates open communication about each and every sex act one has ever engaged in. But there’s a difference between abandoning shame and stigma and opening your bedroom door to all passing voyeurs. Just because you don’t feel shame about what you’re doing, that doesn’t mean you need to completely sacrifice any desire for privacy.
Not that I’d blame you for getting that confused. These days, shame and privacy seem to go hand and hand, with privacy advocates accused of getting up to nefarious deeds or untoward acts. We hear it from Facebook, we hear it from defenders of the NSA: if you’re not doing anything wrong, if you’re not ashamed of what you’re doing, you shouldn’t have any issue with everyone else being aware of it. A desire for privacy is somehow suspect, an indication of illicit activity.
But it shouldn’t be this way. Privacy is a basic, fundamental part of the human experience — one that we all deserve to experience to whatever extent we choose. In the same way that going to the park with just one friend feels more special than planning a picnic with everyone you’ve ever met, keeping information to yourself, or shared with just a few friends, can make it feel much more precious — and wanting that intimate feeling of including just a few people in your inner circle doesn’t mean you’re doing something you shouldn’t be doing. It just means that you happen to appreciate experiences that are shared on a smaller scale.
You can hate shame and the damage that it does to all of us while still enjoying the intimacy that comes with privacy. You can fight for an end to the stigma around sexuality without wanting to speak in great detail about your own personal sex life. Ending shame about sex doesn’t mean that you have to tell the whole world what you did behind closed bedroom doors. Which is a good thing — because as much as I want to see an end to the stigma around sex, I happen to enjoy the thrill of keeping my own sex life a mystery.
