Last week, three different people apologized to me before they even sat down. One worried they were “behind” in their sex life, another felt broken because desire had gone missing, and a third whispered a question they’d never said out loud. The common thread wasn’t their specific story—it was the shame they carried for having one.
Here’s my stance: sex-positive therapy isn’t about saying yes to everything; it’s about removing shame so you can choose what you actually want. Skills matter, education matters, and sometimes treatment matters—but none of it sticks if judgment is running the show.
Shame Is Louder Than Desire
We’re taught to treat sex like a performance review. Are you having enough? With the “right” person? In the “right” way? That scorekeeping turns curiosity into anxiety and intimacy into self-monitoring.
In the room, I see this all the time: people try to “fix” a symptom (low desire, difficulty with arousal or orgasm, pain) without addressing the climate around it—fear of conflict, people-pleasing, cultural or religious scripts, trauma, or simply a nervous system that’s learned to brace. When we slow down and put shame on the table, pressure drops and information rises. Desire is quieter than shame; you have to make enough quiet to hear it.
Takeaway: If sex feels like a test, you’re grading, not relating. Trade evaluation for observation.
Labels Help—Until They Trap Us
I work with folks across the LGBTQIA+ spectrum and with many who are questioning or expanding identity. Labels can be liberating; they offer language, community, and relief. But a label that was once a doorway can become a rule book if we forget it’s descriptive, not prescriptive.
The same goes for diagnosis. “Dysfunction” can sound like a verdict when it’s really a cluster of solvable problems—some medical, some relational, some nervous-system-based. Sex-positive work doesn’t erase labels; it right-sizes them. You’re allowed to evolve. You’re allowed to be fluid. You’re allowed to be consistent.
Safety First, Then Techniques
People often ask for “tools.” Tools are useful—breathwork, scheduling intimacy,, communication frameworks, pelvic floor referrals, values mapping. But tools without safety become another way to “do it right.”
Safety isn’t a vibe; it’s a set of agreements: we move at the speed of consent, we honor boundaries without pouting, we welcome no’s, we repair when we miss each other, and we keep private things private. In that container, techniques create learning instead of pressure. Outside of it, techniques can feel like homework you’re failing. Techniques work when your body believes you’re safe. Build the container before the curriculum.
Allyship Is a Practice, Not a Badge
I have a long history of allyship with LGBTQIA+ clients and communities, and I keep learning—because allyship is ongoing work, not an identity. It means I expect to be corrected, I update my language, and I don’t assume your experiences from my perspective. A truly sex-positive space is inclusive by design, not by exception.
When people tell me they’ve felt judged, pathologized, or fetishized in previous care, I take that seriously. Affirming care isn’t “I won’t judge you.” It’s “I will advocate for your agency, dignity, and joy—and we will name the systems that made this harder than it needed to be.”
Embracing Sex-Positivity…final thoughts
Sex-positive therapy, at its core, is an invitation to tell the truth without punishing yourself for it. It makes room for the full range of sexual experiences—curiosity, ambivalence, exuberance, tenderness, grief—and treats them as data, not defects. If you’ve only ever known sex as a place to perform or prove, there’s another way to relate: slower, kinder, more honest, and ultimately more satisfying.
Quick Experiments to Try This Week
Swap goals: Replace “I should want more” with “I want to learn how my desire actually works.”
De-performance a moment: Choose one encounter to be exploratory, not evaluative. No goals; just notice.
Practice a boundary: Write (and say) one sentence you’ve been avoiding: “I’m not into that,” or “I want to go slower.”
Upgrade consent: Ask, “What would make this feel safer or freer for you?” Then listen like the answer is gold.
De-shame your questions: Write them down as if you were asking a doctor who’s unshockable. Bring them to therapy—or answer one for yourself with compassion.
This article is for general information and is not a substitute for medical or mental-health care.
