On Breaking the Laws of Motherhood
"Do your kids know you're so dirty and hungry for sex?"
After my first newsletter went out last week, I descended into a full-on panic.
When I came up with the idea for this Substack, it had been easy to focus on the positives. It would feel good to reclaim my sexuality. It would be fun to share a diary of my new experiences. It would be hilarious to talk about the ridiculous mistakes I’ve made. It would be instructive to share what I’m learning. It would be powerful to shatter gender expectations and stereotypes.
But as soon as I hit “publish” on that first post, the terror caught up with me. Because everything that makes the conceit of this newsletter fun, interesting and important also makes it risky.
Women in their 40s — especially mothers — aren’t supposed to sleep around. They’re not supposed to have vivacious sex lives. And they’re definitely not supposed to talk about them.
I’m ignoring these rules, and I’m scared of the consequences.
This is, of course, why I have made my newsletter anonymous — to protect my identity and that of my family. But my anonymity is not airtight. I know there must be readers who are wondering, and desperately trying to figure out, who I am. Substack and Stripe have not exactly been helpful when I’ve approached them with questions about how best to protect myself.
And if people figure it out and publicly share my identity — what then? What if my kids’ teachers learn that I write a sex Substack? The school PTA president? My editors? My ex? My kids? Friends of mine threw various scenarios at me to make sure I understood and was comfortable with the potential consequences, and reader, I did not feel comfortable. I don’t want to become a social outcast, the object of gossip and ridicule, but far more importantly, I don’t want any of that for my kids. I don’t want them to be punished for my choices.
Recently, in a dating app message, a guy asked me: Do your kids know that you’re so dirty and hungry for sex? OMG. What? My identity as a mother isn’t relevant here. It shouldn’t be relevant here. Fathers aren’t shamed for having libidos; they’re rewarded for it — if anyone even makes a connection between their sex life and their identity as a parent at all.
If a mid-40s heterosexual divorced man created a Substack about his sexual experiences, would he worry about the ramifications? Would he feel the need to make his newsletter anonymous? Most likely, he wouldn’t feel the need to reclaim his sexual freedom in a newsletter at all, because his needs and desires have always existed in this world without question or disdain.1
In our society, motherhood is meant to contain and control. It should be all-encompassing and leave no space for external pursuits — especially not sexual ones. If a woman claims space outside of her maternity, she must be failing. She must be a bad mom. When someone asks, Do your kids know that you’re so dirty and hungry for sex?, what they’re really asking is, Don’t you feel ashamed that you’re a mother who wants casual sex? Or even: Don’t you feel ashamed for wanting something for yourself, outside of motherhood?
I don’t feel ashamed. I don’t feel apologetic. But I do feel scared, because I don’t want other people in my life to suffer for my choice to break these archaic, misogynistic rules.
So, yeah. After my first newsletter went out, I panicked. I got a lot of new subscribers fairly quickly, which of course was exactly what I wanted, but was also totally terrifying. Don’t get me wrong — I’m not abandoning this project. I’ll forge ahead. But I’m sure, as this newsletter grows and I continue to cross boundaries, that I’m going to be working through a lot of feelings, including various iterations of fear. I’ll share them here along with all of the fun stuff, because I believe that, as a woman, it’s impossible to celebrate your freedom without also acknowledging that there is often, still, a price to pay for it.
Of course, this is not the case for men with marginalized sexual identities or orientations.
I researched starting an anonymous substack about a year ago, so that I could write openly and honestly about marriage, inequities, deciding to stay or leave, separation, the whole divorce process, etc..., and when I went through all the things necessary to write anonymously, and discovered where it wasn't airtight security, the risk for me wasn't worth it (b/c hey, if discovered, and it could be, it could be used against the writer in any divorce proceedings!). I was so excited finding your substack the other week -- I realized here was a woman actually doing what I set out to do (writing anonymously so the full truth could be written). It made me start looking at my whole project again b/c it was possible! You were doing it! Maybe something had changed and made it more airtight?
I totally understand what you're saying here in this post, I get it. And here's the thing, women can't write the truth unless they're willing to blow up their lives. That's essentially it. B/c that's the other side of it. And most women, myself included, won't take that risk. Literally can't take that risk. So men benefit from the silence. All the women who are silent, not sharing their truth, b/c the risk to their lives is too great. And the daughters aren't being taught, and the sons aren't learning, and the system, as it were, stays in place. And the women feel isolated. And they sit in their own stuff, take it to their journal and their close friends, but there is no broader community being created. The ones "on the other side" who are speaking/writing gather those women who can't yet speak/write, but even then, you can't comment publicly on public posts (unsafe), anything on the internet can be screenshot and shared with whomever, and many many women continue to remain silent and unable to share their truth.
I hope your project continues, and I hope no one puts any effort into "sleuthing you out" (like, who would do that -- respect the writer who wants to be anonymous). I can't wait to read more.
May your anonymity be protected and you be safe to explore and share as wildly and fully as you desire. Looking forward to reading about your adventures.