I’ll never forget a time in my early 20s when my new mother-in-law gave me this bit of marriage advice: “You know, it is not very hard to keep a husband happy; they only need two things.” Food was one, I’m sure you can guess the other.
Unfortunately, this was not the first (or last) time I would be given the message that my sexuality is primarily a tool that can be wielded to control men.
Under this logic, women’s sexuality has the power to control their partners’ mood, happiness, and interest in the relationship long-term. Outside of romantic partnerships, feminine seductive energy can be used to attract the attention and favor of men in positions of power when advantageous, among other things. On the flip side, withholding sex from men who do not behave in desirable ways carries the same power.
This only makes sense, though, when it rests on these fundamental beliefs: It is men who primarily want sex, and hence, it is women’s responsibility to gatekeep, doling out sex to men who deserve it or who can offer us something valuable in exchange (marriage, money, attention, job advancement, love, etc).
There is a long history of thinking about women’s sexuality in this way, at least dating back to Ancient Greece. First performed in Athens in 411 BCE, Aristophanes’ play Lysistrata tells the story of a group of women who decided to take the fate of their land into their own hands by denying their husbands and male lovers sex until they agree to end the Peloponnesian War.
In a more contemporary context, the radical feminist online 4B movement that started in 2016 in Korea urges women to say no to four things: sex with men, giving birth, dating men, and marrying men. While this movement arose out of a Korean cultural context, since Trump’s second election there has been an increased interest among young women in applying these principles in the United States as a protest against regressive sexual politics and reproductive rights.
In addition to the fact that 4B has been criticized for being transphobic, what is conspicuously absent in this framing of the power of women’s sexuality is anything related to women’s sexual desire in itself. Of course, women are under no obligation to have sex with men for any reason. But denying it just to prove a point makes the sex about mens’ desire only, and not her own.
I thought this recently when I interviewed writer Suzannah Weiss about her new book Subjectified: Becoming a Sexual Subject. Her book — which skillfully weaves together cultural analysis, theory, pop culture, and personal storytelling — traces her journey from thinking of herself as an object for others (primarily men), to a sexual subject with her wants and needs.
In a chapter entitled “Why Buy the Cow When You Can Both Be Free?” referencing the often cited saying reminding women to withhold sex for marriage if marriage is the goal, Weiss writes, “I don’t remember when I first heard this, but it had long been in my consciousness: that I had something valuable to offer — my body — and I shouldn’t just give it away.”
Women’s sexuality, in other words, is something that can’t just be given away; instead, it is to be used as currency to secure other valuable commodities. Thinking like this, though, seems to take for granted that sex itself isn’t one of the things that women want. In Weiss’s words, “The notion that a woman would need something else denies us our position as desiring subjects and our ability to enjoy sex.”
When I interviewed Weiss and asked how she felt about the 4B movement, she referred to the work she did in this chapter. “[The chapter] is about this idea that women’s power lies in their sexuality and that sex is a gift we give men, sex is something for male pleasure,” she says. “And if they pay us enough, whether it’s through dates, whether it’s through commitments, whether it’s through emotional support, then we reward them with sex.” Weiss sees the same problem with this notion that I do. “It perpetuates the idea that sex is not for us, that it’s not meant to be mutually enjoyed,” she comments.
When embracing these sorts of strategies and calling them feminist, we should stop and ask ourselves if a feminism that denies women’s pleasure and frames their sexuality only in terms of men’s desire and resources is worth having. Instead, a feminist notion of women’s sexuality should include not only what it can offer them outside of the sex itself, but one that centers our desires as an end in themselves.
The marriage advice I wish I got as a young person, and one that I would give to young adults of any gender, is to make sure that you develop a sexual relationship built on mutual pleasure and regard — one that takes both people’s desires, needs, and pleasure into account. Giving women permission to advocate for what they want and need in itself, and not just what their sexuality can get them outside of the encounter, is certainly more feminist in my book.
Jessie Sage is a Pittsburgh-based sex worker, writer, and the host of the podcast When We’re Not Hustling: Sex Workers Talking About Everything But.
You can find Jessie on her website or her socials: X: @sapiotextual & Instagram: @curvaceous_sage.
This article appears in Nov 27 – Dec 3, 2024.




