black church hug

There was a hashtag on twitter a couple of months ago started by relationship blogger Oloni called #sluttygirlfears, tackling some of the taboos surrounding women’s sexual desires and dismantling the idea that women shouldn’t enjoy or want sex in the same way men do. I initially looked on as an interested outsider of sorts, but quickly realised that I could actually relate wholeheartedly with the jist of many of the tweets.

I can’t remember the age when I started believing that good girls don’t like sex, but by age 13 I definitely knew it to be true. I don’t remember thinking  too much about sex before 13. It wasn’t that my household was one where the topic of sex was taboo or forbidden. My Dad was (still is) and old school Jamaican man, whose idea of the sex talk was telling me, gruffly, on the way back from a sleepover age 12 ,”I don’t want to find you with any boy behind a bush”. To which I obviously replied “Why on earth would I be doing ANYTHING behind a bush?”

My Mum, on the other hand, encouraged us to ask as many questions as we wanted and she was never shy about giving answers, even if the answer was “I’ll tell you more about that when you’re older”.I had a very good working knowledge of the birds and the bees by the age of 6, thanks to the “GROWING UP”  books she had left around the house, littered with very graphic and clinical diagrams of, as they described it (1986 edition books), ‘coitus’. 6 year old me was unphased and uninterested in intercourse, although I would gladly tell you that men produced sperm, women made eggs, and that it took approximately 9 months for a baby to develop from their joining.

Unfortunately, March 23rd 2003 and the onset of puberty came upon me suddenly. One minute I was reading Harriet the Spy complete with my Marks and Spencer’s training bra, and the next minute hormones, bleeding uteruses and teenage acne attacked me. Shortly after that assault commenced,  I was sitting in the living room at home one afternoon and I stumbled across some porn on the T.V. I was intrigued and disgusted by it at the same time, but honestly probably more intrigued than disgusted. Fascinated that I could finally put the cartoon graphics of “GROWING UP” to real faces, I watched through half squinted eyes for a minute before telling my Dad that something had got fuddled up with the Christian cable box (yes, it was on a Christian cable box) and he should probably get the cable guy to fix it,

I’m sure I was aware of my own sexuality before then to some extent – I knew that when the boy I liked at church had to hold my hand during the prayer my heart would get a bit racy, but I think age 13 was when I really realised that I probably was going to really like sex when I finally had the chance to do it.  The problem was, I was pretty sure I wasn’t really supposed to like sex.

The early 2000’s were the hey day of the ‘True Love Waits’ movement that swept across America’s evangelical churches. Teenagers were signing pledges, writing vows of virginity with menstrual blood (not really, but i wouldn’t be surprised), wearing promise rings and doing Daddy daughter dates to make sure that they had enough non sexual male presence in their life to stop them having sex with men they actually fancied. It was a bit of a #fail, because the pregnancy rate in schools with abstinent only education ended up being the same or higher than schools which taught more about contraception.

Being a young, Caribbean-British Christian, specifically Seventh Day Adventist, I had my own purity woes to contend with. The American books on waiting didn’t exactly resonate with the environment of my South East London private school. I wasn’t being constantly pressured to have sex and having to valiantly run out of high school proms clutching my bra strap and my dignity.

The overwhelming message I heard about sex in church was pretty simple though – “Don’t have it, try not to think about it, and if you do do it, don’t have an abortion because that’s a sin. But once you get married it’s great and a gift from God and you can think about it all the time”.

Age 27, this is no longer serving me.

I’m fed up of us pretending that only single men struggle with wanting sex. The narrative that women seek companionship primarily and sexual intimacy is a pleasant but secondary consequence is frankly, more archaic than leather condoms. It’s hilarious that in 2017, we’re still doing relationship seminars with young Christians where we pull the boys into one room and talk to them about masturbation and porn and pull the girls into another and talk to them about modesty and ‘guarding their heart’. Women of this generation are often as visually stimulated as their male counterparts, much more aware of their sexual desires and definitely not just ‘giving sex to get love’. 15 year old church girls are performing oral sex during the week and sitting at the back of church every Saturday. Get real.

I’m not going to be boxed in by these #sluttygirlfears anymore, being scared of the disapproval of church folks who are in denial about their own sexuality and the sexuality of those around them.  Some women in church have had sex, and are having it right now. Some of them have had lots of sex with lots of different people. Some of them haven’t had sex, but want to. Some of them might even be asexual. Most of them probably really enjoy sex, or at least the thought of it. It’s time to accept it for what it is.

While God gives us boundaries for our sexual behaviour, we don’t help Him along by either pretending that they’re easy to live within, or that we don’t have any sexual desires in the first place. Our inability to accept and acknowledge female sexuality doesn’t lead to righteousness or repentance, but to guilt, shame, self loathing and fear.

I apologise to the women I’ve hurt, spoken badly of, or looked down on because I couldn’t come to terms with the fullness of my own humanity.

To the church girl who has slept with that guy she shouldn’t have, watched the porn video last night or thought a few things that would make the head deacon blush, know that you aren’t strange, abnormal or irredeemable. There are lots of us here, walking this Jesus walk with you, trying to heal from the lies that were told us about our sexuality from those in church and those outside church. You are wonderfully made. God designed your body to desire sex and to enjoy sex as much as any man. You are not a slut. You are formed into wonderful femininity, holding inside of you the breath of God.

I wholeheartedly believe that God’s ideal for us is sex within marriage, with one person who loves us, cherishes us, and forsakes all others. I really want to have that experience one day. It would be great if my sex drive could turn on on the wedding night and stay off before then, but that’s not realistic, and evidently not how I was made. So until then, I’m slowly allowing myself to accept all of my humanity, including acknowledging and celebrating my sexuality – and so should you.

Here’s some great reading material I’ve found helpful:

  1. Real Sex by Lauren Winner
  2. Flame of Yahweh, Sexuality in the Old Testament  by Richard Davidson
  3. Letters to Young Lovers by Ellen White
  4. Songs Of Solomon


Snog, Marry, Avoid was a fairly trashy TV show which involved making over women who were deemed a bit trashy, and making them classy. The title hinted at the fact that dressing and wearing makeup in a certain way might get you a snog, but it wouldn’t get you a ring, and if you wanted him to put a ring on it you needed to shape up because the snap judgements men  made about the way you look could make you miss out.

I think I might have admitted this before, but in a moment of midnight madness and curiosity, I downloaded Tinder. It didn’t last very long, approximately 5 minutes. I don’t say this in a sneering way to belittle those of you who have used the app as an aid in your romantic (sexual?) endeavours. It just took all of 5 minutes for me understand that my particular demographic – black, female, born again Christian,waiting till marriage to have sex and looking for a man with similar values, was possibly NOT Tinder’s target demographic and that I was extremely unlikely to swipe and land on a 28 year old man who was currently deciding whether to read Revelation or Matthew next and investing his pent up sexual energy in 5 mile runs. It was swiftly deleted and I went to sleep.

I was watching a (fairly low brow) documentary this evening called Face Value, which explored how central our faces are Wars have been waged over faces. Millions of pounds have been earned from the simple genetic lot of facial features.Most importantly, in 2016 especially, potential life partners have been selected or discarded on the basis of their face.

I often hear people say that your twenties are the time for having fun when you’re dating. We get told not to get too tied down to one person, not to spend time being patient with someone who isn’t meeting our expectations, to ‘get it out our system’. The assumption is that once this period is over, we will be ready to settle down with a long term life partner. Once we’ve gone through a 10 year period of making snap judgements, impulse decisions and allowing ourselves slightly more superficiality that we would expect from a ‘proper’ adult, we can then go on to blossom into a a more mature connoisseur of  love and relationships.

Essentially, your twenties are your snog, marry, avoid years. Your Twenties are your Tinder years. You have the youth, the good looks amd the free time to swipe as you please. Your fertility can withstand your snap judgements and there is no receding hairline to force you into low expectations and settling. Some people are comfortable with moving from person to person because they have their whole life ahead of them to be boring and committed and tied down.

But what if you never get out of your Tinder habit? What if your brain becomes so accustomed to swiping, avoiding, hooking up, discarding and transactional sexual experiences, that come 35, no woman can hold your attention for long enough?  What if you find out too late that you haven’t learnt the steady, sometimes difficult uphill hike of learning to grapple with someones flaws and reflecting on your own?

Would it be worth it? Maybe we’re delusional in believing that our brains, marvellous in their ability to form habits and build neuronal pathways that reinforce these, can suddenly adjust when we and society decide that it’s time for us to grow up. I read a diary entry I’d written at age 14 – it  listed the things I liked about myself and the things that I didn’t like, things I wanted to change and work on. I’d scrawled in my notebook ‘I’m good at talking to people, I have a quick mind, I can be very loving…I can be selfish sometimes, I have a quick temper, I’m disorganised and messy’. I would like to say that I’ve changed dramatically, but apart from having a much slower temper (thank God) , I’m still a bit selfish and I’m still quite messy and disorganised at times. In fact, it’s frightening how many of both my good and bad qualities were solidified during my teenage years.

The fact that my temper has improved quite significantly gives me some hope – I prayed a lot about that and I’m thankful that I’ve changed. Change is possible. But the other things on my list serve as a warning to me that every day I’m making choices about who I will be in 10 years time. I’m fooling myself if I think that who I am today at 26 and who I am at 36 will be different just because I decide that it’s time for me to grow up. Life doesn’t woirk that way.

So next time you decide to swipe in real life, or on Tinder, ask yourself how swiping is changing the way you look at people. And remember that who you are in 10 years may be so similar to who you are now, it will surprise even you.


I was up later than I should have been a couple of nights ago and I can no longer blame it on the disrupted sleep pattern my body was forced into by two night shifts a couple weeks back. It’s not the rota coordinator’s problem anymore, it’s all me. I’ve failed to self regulate and I find myself meandering into intemperance and insomnia more nights than is healthy. On this particular night, I had just finished watching a documentary on Donald Trump (will he become President, won’t he? Is this all a dream?)  with my dear old Dad, and casually flicked through the channels with the intention to head to bed. As I flicked, I came across 3 naked women, standing in booths, and another woman scrutinising their bodies as a presenter teased her, asking what she thought, who she liked best. I saw the title of the show, Naked Attraction. Ah, this was the show I had heard others talk about and had determined not to watch. The nudity wasn’t as shocking as the sheer banality of it all. Clearly, TV has run out of ideas. And when you’ve run out of ideas, naked women will generally keep the party going for a bit.

We’ve all seen nudity on screen, be that via an X rated site, a film or even an advert for washing up liquid. This generation of westerners is suffering from nudity fatigue – we’ve seen so much nakedness it no longer excites in the same way.  The existence of Naked Attraction is just one more story to add to the particular secular liberal narrative that wants us to believe that nudity (women’s in particular),  is sexually liberating.

France’s recent ban on the burkini, a modest swimsuit cleverly named to allude to the burqua, was met with astonishment and derision by many liberal media outlets.  It’s a shocking display of disregard for religious liberty. It polices women’s bodies. It makes Muslim women bear the burden for the atrocities committed by a few renegade terrorists who many Muslims would not even consider to share their faith. It’s oppressive. I agree with all these statements, but I wonder how we can separate the ban from the prevailing attitudes towards female bodies and sexual liberation that we have incubated in the West for the past 50 years, as if the two aren’t directly correlated.

The reason why the burkini is so ‘other’ is not merely becuase of the head covering although this is significant part of it. It’s also because of the idea of modesty and covering the female form that is such a stark contrast to our current social norms.

We live in an age where some women can propel themselves into fame and fortune sheerly off the back of sex tapes large bottoms and where women, (black women especially) with considerable musical talent often face overt and subtle pressure to act in an extremely sexual manner in order to achieve success. (I specified race because fuller figured black women who sing better than Adele and like her, aren’t overtly sexual, are not achieving her level of success, and yes, it’s at least partially a race thing).

Despite this being to my mind obviously oppressive, there is a relentless insistence from some sectors of society that these women are sexually liberated and concurrently, the subtle suggestion that modesty and covering are rooted in oppression. Although many liberal pundits in the wake of burkini will loudly proclaim that it’s a woman’s choice whether or not she dresses modestly, we have created a culture where uncovering is by design. Our fashion magazines, our shops, our advertisements and our media all propel us in a direction of nudity under the guise of freedom and despite declaring that we support women in whatever choices they make, we have created a culture that celebrates, orchestrates and rewards nudity. Is it any wonder then, that in our subconscious mind, the burkini is an assault on our ‘value system’? Could it be that despite condemning France for her actions, we have as a collective, played a part in facilitating an environment where to be modest is to be constantly othered?

Arguably, the situation in other countries that are less secular ,where women are forced to cover is far worse than what we currently have in the west. I would be the first to say I would much rather live in a country where I could be naked or burqua’d without retribution (and France is now excluded from this), but oppression is not always as bold as morality police and Taliban soldiers. Both societies have failed to reach a place where women’s bodies are not dissected for mass consumption, where women’s bodies are fully their own without the enduring threat of breaking under standards that are constantly placed on them without regard for their emotional, mental, even spiritual well being.

When I cannot walk into a high street shop and with ease find a dress that does not have a random hole cut into it, a thigh high split, or plunging cleavage, in a not-so-subtle way, I am being told how I should be as a woman. There are a thousands of items of clothing, but so few that allow me to not be forced to conform to the narrative that I a freer when I am less covered.

We may rightly condemn France but we are wrong if we do not examine how, maybe almost imperceptibly to some, we have all allowed this to happen.

mum and dad


I was chatting with my brother earlier today about children being brought up to be a specific gender and the roles that come with that. There’s been a lot more conversation in the last couple of years about children and gender. Many question whether it’s healthy  to bring up children with a specific gender or whether we should raise children as gender neutral.

I usually try to be quite diplomatic in these conversations because I feel that these issues are quite complex and that for families where children have questions about their gender identity, all the articles in the world will never be able to give the right answer on how to deal with when your child who is physically female tells you that they believe mentally, and emotionally, they are a boy.

However, I am becoming increasingly more frustrated with the formidable nonsense amongst those who are insistent on promoting this ridiculous and contradictory notion that gender is something wholly imagined by society with little biological basis, but who at the same time insist that some people are born in the ‘wrong’ body and therefore their need to change their body to match their gender. Clearly, these two ideas are logically incompatible. View Post

sex ed

I read an article earlier today by Peter Tatchell with a blueprint for sex education in schools. It’s what you would expect from Peter Tatchell i.e. , an extremely liberal approach.  While I agree with him that sex education should be taught in schools and that it is extremely important in safeguarding young people against abuse, as I read the article I became very uncomfortable with some of his proposals.

I should start off by saying that personally, I will teach my children about sex (in an age appropriate way) as early as possible. I want my kids to grow up understanding that sex is good, normal, natural and safe in the right context at the right time. I want them to be comfortable with their bodies and their right to say no to anyone – be that relative, friend or potential partner who approaches their bodies in a way they don’t feel comfortable with. I want them to grow up to be confident in their own moral choices, but to also be respectful of other people who don’t share their belief system and make different moral choices than they do. I want them to be able to respectfully articulate the choices they have made in regards to their sexual behaviour. View Post