Agency and Obligatory Sex

It’s about to get a little personal. (Trigger warning for descriptions of sex)

I had a rough time with the Gavey article. Simultaneously I loved the Gavey article. On Monday, we talked about agency in class and I wanted to continue talking about that for a little bit in terms of my own experiences.

My sexual debut was with a partner who was significantly older than I was (24 to my 19). I had always been incredibly anxious about sex (I still am), but he was also my first long term partner and so a few months in, I decided to give it a shot. It was bloody and painful and scary, but as far as I knew, that was normal. I’d been taught I was supposed to bleed, been taught it was supposed to hurt. So naturally I figured it would get better, and for the interim I would just bite my lip and endure it. My partner was enjoying it, and I wanted to fulfill my sex-positive feminist identity to its fullest, which for me meant being sexual.

But the pain never really went away and I never enjoyed sex and it got to a point where I was telling myself that at least someone wanted to have sex with me and maybe next time it will feel like it’s supposed to feel. More than that though, my partner was an older and sexually experienced person and I wanted to live up to his standards. I was well aware that he could easily just find someone else if I wasn’t willing. So, like I said, I kept telling myself I was just sticking this out because it was sure to get better. I even went and saw my family doctor about it, who told me pretty much the same thing.

It’s interesting how well you can lie to yourself if you do it enough.

Like many of the women in the Gavey article, none of the sex I had in this relationship was forced or outright coercive. Eventually, despite the pain, after a few months we did reach a point where penetration was possible. I was ecstatic; even though it still hurt, it was progress, right? My body proved itself able to perform what I figured was a vital function, and therefore I felt worthy of being someone’s girlfriend. I felt more secure in my relationship. I felt powerful. I felt like I had gained control over my own body.

And here’s where agency comes in, for me. Even though I was performing this sex mostly for the benefit of someone else, I felt like I had some means of control. Even if I couldn’t control the pain, I could control my reaction to it for long enough that I could satisfy my partner’s needs. Besides, if it got too painful, my partner was very respectful and caring when I did need him to stop.

I am still conflicted though, because it was my choice to put myself through this pain because I thought it was in my best interests to do so. To keep my relationship, to feel that my body was functioning “normally.” But truthfully, I don’t know if I can really argue that, not anymore.

A few summers ago I saw a therapist after being diagnosed by a gynecologist with vulvodynia (more specifically, vestibulodynia) and she told me something I’ll never forget: My body is not broken. My body is working exactly the way it was meant to work. Just because it doesn’t work like the majority of people’s bodies do, doesn’t mean there it isn’t doing its job perfectly well. I think if I had known that three years ago, that relationship probably would have ended a lot sooner. I am not obligated to force my body to perform in a way that is painful for me for any reason at all. And I think that’s where I’m starting to find real agency.