Eight signs you’re slut shaming yourself

The used panty marketplace

The burn in our cheeks, that curdling in our belly. A certain topic arises, and we shift in our seats, deflect blame, and look away. Shame. When left to run as rampant as kudzu in a North Florida backyard, it can swallow your entire sense of self – and nowhere does that shame run more unchecked than it does in our relationship to how we get down.

For all the ways that ads and movies wield sex to drive sales, we’re collectively drowning. Shame-happy contemporary culture still teaches us to fudge our numbers or not teach our partners where the clitoris is. It’s not just that we’ll be embarrassed; the law by and large isn’t on our collective sexuality’s side. In some parts of the United States, it’s still legal to fire someone based on who they have sex with, and courts still air BDSM practices like dirty laundry in custody battles

Spoon fed negative attitudes on sexuality every single day, it’s no surprise that we’ve started turning against each other. Slut shaming is a word that has popped up across the web: CNN, BBC, The Times, The Atlantic. Major sources like these all tout the word to describe the ways we push one another down. Whether it’s an interview with Billie Eilish or another story about a judge blaming a victim instead of the rapist, we all know that slut shaming others is the way this world sometimes turns.

But what about when it comes to slut shaming ourselves? Just as damaging, this silent creeper eats many of us up daily. Even folks who fight slut shaming when they see it happen to others fail to acknowledge the way that slut shaming stunts their own sense of self. Sometimes it’s easier to work on problems outside of ourselves rather than the ones nestled deep within our bods.

Slut shaming ourselves does more than just keep us from smooching all the cuties; it can exhibit the same symptoms of depression, and limit our sense of overall possibility and opportunity. Shame can manifest in a million different ways, but if you slut shame yourself, you may notice yourself doing these eight things.

1. You blame yourself for others’ actions.
I don’t know a single woman or member of the LGBTQ community who has never been harassed. And if someone has ever groped, raped, followed, harassed, or otherwise assaulted you, you know how it feels to be in the wake of it. Often, as we work through the stages of this unique kind of grief, our minds wander to the inevitable question: why me? What did I do to deserve this? The answer is nothing. You did nothing wrong. Nobody has a right to violate your boundaries or deny your agency over your own body. 

But that’s not what we’re taught in the United States. In rape cases today, we’re still told that what the victim wore and how much they drank is a factor in the validity of th case, and that a woman being drunk or wearing a tube top somehow lift the blame off the transgressor and puts it onto the victim.

This victim blaming is the monstrous underbelly of slut shaming, and it’s a big reason why those of us who have experienced any degree of assault feel ashamed when it was nothing we did. Even if we know in theory that it’s never okay for someone to do something so awful to you, even catcalling can send us into a spiral, questioning what we did in particular that day to “warrant” such a gross act of aggression.But blaming ourselves is just another way of shaming ourselves. It’s time we learned to let it go and rest the blame for violating our consent where it belongs: on the assaulters’ heads. 

Don’t blame yourself for blaming yourself in the past. We’re taught from a young age that someone was “asking for it” depending on their outfit, how drunk they were, or whether they’d had sex with said person before. Undoing this way of thinking takes work. Give yourself time to heal, and ask yourself how you can start surrendering the shame and examining the situation from a different light. 

Because someone should be blamed for what happened – and that person isn’t you.

2. You hide the truth about what gets you going.
There are two kinds of sexual people: those with kinks and those who are lying about them. We all have something that titillates us. For you, that may be buying used panties. For me, it could be foot stuff, or eating raspberries out of belly buttons. Whatever it is, that’s my truth – and it’s high time you started honoring yours.

Someone who slut shames themselves regularly faces a sinking feeling when looking at the true sources of their pleasure. Even if it’s a relatively innocent thing like wearing silk, we feel pressure to hide that secret in the backs of our closets and pretend it’s not there. But all (consensual) kink is good kink. Think about it this way: if every party involved in the thing that makes your toes curl enthusiastically consents, then what’s the big deal? Why is pleasure a crime when everyone is happy and nobody is harmed by it?

The culprit that’s pushing this secrecy is society. We’re encouraged to feel ashamed of ourselves and our kinks. But times are changing. I say (and sex therapists agree), that if we’re getting off with consent in hand, then we should have license to go to town. Sexual shame holds us back from so many delicious experiences, and often, our shame and anxiety about our kink is the only real ramification of indulging in our desires. No bigger repercussions are lurking behind you once you get to put something in your butt for the first time or try rope bondage. Most often, it all boils down to the wise words of Regina Spektor: If you kiss somebody, then both of you’ll get practice.

That’s it. That’s all that happens when you express sexuality. You and your lovers are practicing and indulging in the thing that sets your beating heart ablaze – end of story.

3. You don’t advocate for your own pleasure.
You may not even know what your true kinks are called if you’re busy slut shaming yourself. Unable to vocalize your own sexual needs, you could just be feeding yourself on the scraps of an unexamined sex life thrown at you as you sit under the table. This goes beyond voicing your kinks, fetishes, and turn-ons. That journey that takes time, and calls for a gradual exploration of where reality and fantasy intersect. 

Insead, slut shaming may keep you from starting with basics and making sure you orgasm during sex. There’s a troubling statistic out there, one that swirls in my mind day in and day out: only about half of women orgasm sometimes during straight, cis intercourse. Half – and even then, not always. I’ll let you riddle out how often their straight male partners are orgasming. If you’ve been raised as a woman and are pansexual, bi+, or straight, you weren’t taught to value your orgasm. Instead, sex starts with a boner and ends with semen, right?

Wrong. Let’s get this straight: everyone, of every gender identity and beautiful arrangement of chromosomes, deserves regular orgasms. There is nothing shameful in asking for one, in wanting one – and even in giving them to yourself...

4. You’re embarrassed by touching yourself.
Life is for the living. You don’t have to spend another minute like pre-Towanda Kathy Bates in Fried Green Tomatoes, afraid to look at your own vagina. The thing here isn’t that we should all be masturbating frequently (although it’s awesome if you do). Instead, it’s about being comfortable with your sexuality, and not just as it relates to others. To stop slut shaming yourself, you have to start by exploring your sexuality as it relates to you, your own body, and nobody else.

One powerful way to do this? Explore micro-moments of sexuality all by your lonesome. Put on a song that has you feeling yourself, and dance when nobody else is in the room. If you have a partner, it’s okay to lock the door; this moment is just for you. Let yourself writhe with your eyes closed, and explore your body with your hands. Steal moments like these whenever you can. Take your time rubbing lotion in. Draw figure eights with your hips as you drink a glass of water. These tiny indulgences put us back into our bodies, and give us ownership over this sweet pleasure vessel we live in.

Touching yourself – whether that’s a solo sesh in the bathtub with your favorite vibrator and a bunch of candles, or just lotioning your booty along to "Scuse Me" by Lizzo – is a powerful way to say “I love you” to yourselves, one moment at a time. And while a lot of shame in general  is foisted onto the queer community and women, our cultural hatred of touching ourselves cuts everyone equally. People raised as men are also taught that masturbation is shameful, embarrassing, and dirty. Anyone remember the myth about hairy palms?

That shame is so prevalent that toys designed for solo pleasure with a penis come with a whole different level of stigma. While vibrators and dildos are perceived as slutty, strokers and fleshlights are viewed as pathetic or embarrassing, an admission that the purchaser can’t find a beau to canoodle. When we feel this ashamed of our body love, we’re called to rush through it in the shower. 

Again, the point isn’t to masturbate often; not everyone does. I’ll say that right out the gate. My solo seshes are seldom and far flung. But that’s my choice – and when I do feel the call, I answer it. Every day though, I find other ways to play with my body. You can find me swaying my hips, rubbing my belly, or otherwise giving myself a little sensuality day after day – and you should too.

Everyone has their own relationship to solo intimacy, but acknowledging self touch as a powerful and beautiful thing is a cornerstone of us naming our pleasure and working past shame. Whether you discover that your ideal habits include daily masturbation, or you’re like me and express it in other ways, knowing is how you get started.Nobody should be as familiar with your body as you are. You’re the one that lives in it, so give yourself space to love being in it. 

5. You don’t wear the things you really want to wear.
If you have a crop top in mind to show off that cute tum tum, but decide against it at the last minuute, you may just be slut shaming yourself. When you deny your fashion choices, you’re putting yourself down for the things that make you, you, curbing your freedom of expression, and by proxy, keeping yourself from being an authentic version of you. 

This kind of shame doesn’t come from nowhere. School dress codes and judgmental peers have told us from the get-go that certain outfits are unacceptable. But here’s the hard truth: if you’re still spending time with the kinds of people (partners, friends, or family members) who tell you not to wear something, then you’re hanging out with bad friends. You deserve to be supported in the decisions you make – and anyone who says differently just wants you to feel small. So put on that favorite dress, that mini skirt with the slit, those tight jeans, or that flashy necklace, and engage with the world as your authentic self.

They’re your clothes, nobody else’s – so be proud of who you want to be, and start being that person today.

6. You slut shame others.
Think about that friend or your mother or your shitty boyfriend who’s shaming you for your crop top. They aren’t coming from a place of confidence – and if you’re shaming others for their clothes, odds are, you’re not either.

Shaming (especially slut shaming) boils down to a need to control others. When you’re compelled to control other people’s clothes and actions, you need to ask yourself about your motive. Why be so rattled by what other people are doing or wearing? If you’re out there finding reasons for why someone else is being slutty, and why that’s not alright, and why so-and-so should feel ashamed, it could just be that you need to look in the mirror. That judgment might stem from your own insecurity. When someone else is living their lives fully, repressed folks feel threatened by those choices, and lash out at the way others approach life.

Remember, we’re all free to clothe and pleasure ourselves however we please. If something bothers you, and you can’t shake it, ask yourself if the person’s action or choice impacts you. If the answer is no, then let it go. If you think that person’s action does impact you, examine how. If it’s just that you disagree with what they’re doing, then look back at the previous point: let it go. It’s not actually bothering you. You’re just letting it bother you. 

So the next time you catch yourself judging someone for their appearance, clothes, or sexual history, take a second. Breathe, pause, and then ask yourself why exactly you’re bothered by it. If it boils down to slut shaming and insecurity (it probably does), then be a good person and call yourself out. Be straightforward and say, “Actually, I’d like to take that back.”. 

Slut shaming won’t end unless we all put in the work to end it together, and a willingness to retract your own slut shaming behavior goes a long way in helping you break your own habit while signaling to your friends that you won’t put up with that kind of talk either.

7. You don’t want to have a condom in your purse/wallet/pocket because it’s embarrassing to carry one.
When I was a server in college, I once brought a whole bag of condoms to work and put them in the cabinet where my coworkers and I put our purses for the day. To me, it was a public service: condoms were expensive, and I knew we were all sexually active. The reaction from most of my coworkers was astounding. Although the bag slowly and secretly emptied over the weeks, they were scandalized that I’d encourage them to carry a condom on hand. To them, it was slutty and shameful, even though we all had regular conversations about hooking up with randos we met at parties.

I’ll cut right to the chase here: not having condoms on hand is not okay. Casual sex isn’t a crime. In fact, it can be a lot of fun. There’s nothing wrong with going to a house party hoping to meet a honey to take home. What is wrong is not being able to advocate for you and your partner’s safety.

So don’t slut shame yourself out of bringing a condom to a liaison. If you’re thinking there’s even a slight chance sex will happen, have one on hand. Whether you’re sharing a dildo with a casual partner, have a penis, or both, a condom is a must. There’s nothing shameful about keeping yourself safe – and any potential partner who makes you feel that way is probably not safe to be sleeping with in the first place.

8. You don’t often get tested and keep your sexual history secret from your doctor.
We get tested for all kinds of things. The flu, for mono. Coronavirus, if you’re one of the lucky few who can snag a test. Any time we think we’ve been exposed to something, getting tested is a natural part of the equation. But for some reason, when it comes to our sexual history, we’re stuck – and it isn’t looking pretty. With STDs on the rise around the United States, you’d think we’d try to get tested left and right. 

Instead, a study of sexually active young people between the ages of fifteen and twenty-five found that only 11.5% had been tested for STDs in the past year. 11.5%. One in ten. That’s not good enough.

When people don’t know their STD status, they are facing serious health risks, and can spread disease to others. Unchecked, these diseases that can be treated, sometimes cured, and always managed, suddenly come with a host of major complications.

So what’s our big hesitation? Shame.

When we’re too embarrassed to get tested, divulge our status, or share honestly about our sexual history, we’re putting our health at risk in the name of saving face. In reality, we should all be getting tested regularly – especially if we’re having any casual or unprotected sex. Since some STDs give false negatives for up to twelve weeks after first getting them, you may have to wait to get tested. In an ideal world, we’d all get tested after having a new partner, but at a bare minimum, we should all get tested at least once a year

Sometimes, we’re too ashamed of our “number” to go to the doctor and talk about it. I get it. When my number was a whopping four, my OBGYN shamed the hell out of me when I tried to get tested (that’s the Deep South for you!). But since then, I’ve learned to go elsewhere for my tests – and you can too. Try a health clinic or a local Planned Parenthood to get the nonjudgmental care you deserve.

Sexuality is a thriving pulse we all share. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, but something to relish in, to celebrate. Humans are inherently creatures of growth, and shame stagnates us, keeping us from expanding our sexuality and loving our sweet bods.

So instead of shame, choose to thrive. Every day, take conscious steps to be proud of your relationship to sex. It doesn’t happen overnight, so let yourself take time getting there. Journal about it. Read some sex blogs. Start finding people online and in your community with a sex-positive lens. We’re out there - and we’re all in this together.

Sex is nothing to be ashamed of, and remember: if you and your partners are consenting and helping each other express your sexual selves fully, then there’s no space for shame. Just pride and love.