Shame and sexuality — what we don't talk about

There are few places shame runs deeper than in our sexuality. And that's not a coincidence.

From a very young age we learn — through silence, looks, comments and culture — what is acceptable to feel, desire and do. And most of what we learn is about limitation. About what you shouldn't.

What actually is shame?

Shame is not the same as guilt. Guilt says: I have done something wrong. Shame says: I am wrong. That is a fundamental difference.

Guilt can lead to change and repair. Shame leads to hiding. When we feel ashamed of our sexuality — of what we desire, what we fantasize about, what we don't like, who we are attracted to — we hide that part of ourselves away. Even from ourselves.

Where does sexual shame come from?

It comes from many places. From upbringing and religion. From culture and media that tell us what the right body, the right desire and the right sex life should look like. From experiences where we have been rejected, ridiculed or violated.

Many people carry shame about something they shouldn't be ashamed of at all. About having a low sex drive — or a high one. About being attracted to the same gender. About having a body that doesn't live up to the ideal. About never having experienced an orgasm. About having experienced something they didn't choose.

What does shame do to us?

Shame isolates. It tells us that we are alone in what we feel — that everyone else has it figured out, and that we are the only ones struggling. That's a lie. But shame is good at convincing us of the opposite.

Shame also blocks pleasure and intimacy. It's hard to be present in your body and in connection with another person when part of you is monitoring and judging.

What helps?

The first step is to name it. To say — to yourself or to someone you trust — that there is something here I am ashamed of. Not to fix it right away, but because shame loses some of its power when it is seen.

The next step is curiosity rather than judgment. To ask: where does this shame come from? Is it my own — or have I inherited it?

You are not your shame. And you are not alone.