This piece explores how women’s experiences with queer sex can contribute to the way sex and pleasure are viewed. Drawing upon interviews conducted for my dissertation, I explore 20 self-identified queer and 38 self-identified heterosexual college women’s descriptions of sex. Findings suggest that the unique situation of having had sex with men as well as women and/or non-binary partners allows LBQ women to compare across sexual experiences, effectively using the body as a school for understanding sex
Early on in my study, I became aware that queer and heterosexual women were using different language to speak about sex with men. Queer women were particularly quick to describe men by saying things like, “he’s an idiot,” or “he’s stupid.” Heterosexual women in contrast were less harsh (e.g. “And guys are careless I would say”; insistent; very forward). Their critiques were often more focused on the difficulty of reading and understanding men. For example:
It’s hard to read men?
I think it’s that they are less forward with how they are feeling. It’s a big issue. It’s a communication thing.
-Suzie (Heterosexual, Respondent 61)
Above, Suzie (heterosexual) talks about men being less in touch with their emotions—she refers to this as a big issue and a communication thing—implying it is something that must be dealt with or accepted. Of note, it is not that queer women did not say similar things. Rather when they made critiques of men, it was from a slightly different position. Queer women were more focused on why men were so poorly equipped to read them. For instance,
Very few guys that I have met in my life have the ability to read other peoples’ emotions effectively.
– Rachel (Queer Respondent 108)
In some instances, gaining a new awareness involved having sex with men and with women (not necessarily in that order) and then comparing the two. As part of this process, the body becomes a tool for learning. Physical experiences shape what women understand to be going on. In some instances, queer women became aware that men focused on their own pleasure. I’d point out that queer women’s awakening seemed to grow from both interpersonal experiences in one sense (Gagnon and Simon 2011), but also from a broader social lens. That is queer women were often in groups, networks, and institutions that gave them space to discuss and critique sexual dynamics. Ultimately, this learning process shaped a willingness to communicate in new ways and boldly seek out the possibility of pleasure.
I think there is an expectation with men – or with people who identify as men and have penises – that if you’re hooking up with them, it doesn’t stop until ejaculation has occurred…I’ve honestly never felt that way with a woman. With my limited experience with women or with non-binary people or people with vaginas it’s always felt a lot more engaged in a bodily sense. There is not a specific endpoint that you’re trying to get to. It’s more like here we are…they seemed to be perfectly content with caressing or the exploration of it all. Foreplay.
-Jenny (queer Respondent 109)
Thus, a second big difference between heterosexual and queer women related to how they discussed bodies. Many women described frustrations with men, yet Jenny’s (above) talk about body parts is interesting. She points out male orgasm is an endpoint, which creates momentum and constraint. Throughout interviews, it was common for queer women to make note of the pressure on ejaculation with people who identify as men. Jenny’s account also compares pensises and vaginas and equating them with different levels of engag[ment] in a bodily sense. Of note, heterosexual women also referenced bodies but it was largely in reference to either men’s size or to men touching their body (below).
[T]he physical aspect…He’s bigger and stronger.
–Blair (Heterosexual, Respondent 1)
He was very insistent in me going down on him. Very forward and I didn’t feel that was acceptable. Like, don’t push my head anywhere, don’t move my hand…stuff like that. –Meg (Heterosexual, Respondent 29)
Above, Blair and Meg (both heterosexual) seem to name these embodied aspects of sex with men as just sort of there and expected.
When pushed further, it became clear that experiences with women or non-binary partners often shed light onto other possibilities of interaction, those outside of typical heterosexual dynamics. For some queer women, the body essentially became a tool for exploring and ultimately identifying situations where the sex was and wasn’t that good.
I had only been with women for the first few years of my sexual life. I didn’t have sex with a guy until I was 18. For three years it was just women. And it was great. Time of my life (laughs). It’s a lot more comfortable because I didn’t know what I was doing and neither did they so it was kind of figuring it out together and also just discussing everything first and making sure everything is okay. It was never in a way that was pushy…Most of the guys I’ve slept with I was very drunk…it’s taken a very long time to try to refigure out what I’m supposed to feel about them [men].
Above Naomi (queer) describes first sexual experiences with women where two-way, open communication and figuring it out were key. The language here suggests that shared sexual inexperience may be equalizing; that mutual curiosity or exploration might help facilitate consent. These experiences with women are contrasted with her experiences with men.
Overall, these quotes suggest that thinking more about queer sex might help improve sex and pleasure for everyone. Specifically, I find that the embodied experience of sex with a person other than a man provides some distance from heterosexual dynamics and thus allows for a critique of them. This suggests that learning experiences with different partners across times can help people navigate sexual communication, boundaries and bodies in ways that are ultimately productive and supportive of pleasure.