Twitter Facebook Instagram Google+ Tumblr YouTube E-Mail WhatsApp Sign In Check Close snapchat
Search
Exit Clear

Hilary Winston: Feminism Makes for Great Sex

Hilary Winston: Feminism Makes for Great Sex: ILLUSTRATION BY KOREN SHADMI

ILLUSTRATION BY KOREN SHADMI

Feminism. You hear that word or see it in print and it causes you to feel something. It has more baggage than a bride or groom left at the altar. It turns a lot of people off, especially men. I get it. Feminism can come off as bitchy. Self-righteous. Whiny. Alienating. Man-hating. The opposite of sexy. It’s why a lot of young female celebrities have distanced themselves from it lately—publicly proclaiming they aren’t feminists. They think feminism is a dirty word. And I’m here to agree that feminism is a dirty word. But I differ on the kind of dirty.… A lot of women and men think feminism isn’t sexy, but I think it’s very sexy, and I think you should too.

I want to start by apologizing for the sex I had early on in my sexual career. Not to the guys; I want to apologize to myself. I didn’t know how much better it could be. There were some not-great experiences for both parties. He: “How is it?” Me: “Great.” He: “Wait, it’s not even in.” Oops. He: “Did you finish?” Me: “I think I almost sort of kind of had something.” He: “Did you fall asleep?” Me: “Just for a second.” I thought sex was for the guy. I didn’t know it was for me too. I was insecure about sex and, more specifically, about my body and everything it did. One time I was hooking up with a guy, and his toilet overflowed after I’d gone number two; instead of asking him for a plunger, I scooped my poop out with a red Solo cup and threw it in his kitchen trash. Not my proudest moment. I was insecure because I was worried he wouldn’t like me if he knew I was human. The guy must certainly have thought somebody he knew was inhuman when he found shit in a Solo cup on trash day.

I’m not saying that finding my inner feminist made me want to start shitting with the door open, but feminism is about the freedom to enter every situation as an equal, whether it’s a voting booth or a romantic encounter in a guy’s camper in your friend’s driveway. Being equal gives you confidence, and confidence is what good sex is all about. When I stopped worrying about what the guy thought of me and started thinking about what was fun for me (because it was my hookup too), I started to enjoy sex. And that made sex better for everyone. I had a lot of fun with that camper guy (and just to be clear, he did have a house, but it was far and we might have had some/many drinks). It would have been a perfect hookup if I hadn’t had to go into my friend’s house to use the bathroom in the morning. I know what you’re thinking after hearing about my Solo cup incident: Just use a bush. But that wasn’t an option since we were in bear country—grizzly bear country. So I did that bathroom walk through my friend’s house and held my head up high, a walk of no shame, because I was not in fact ashamed. Why would I be ashamed of having a great time with an outdoorsy mountain man whose last one-night stand had been with a pack of wolves in a rock cave? Thank you, feminism!

Feminism can sometimes seem like this giant tidal wave, big and amorphous. But feminism is also intimate, personal and individual. It’s happening in bedrooms (and campers) all over this country. For me feminism is not only about the freedom to become president (seems like a done deal); it’s also about the freedom to say to a guy, “You’re four inches away from my clitoris.” And not think my life is over if he’s offended and won’t marry me. And the freedom for him to say to me, “You’re way too close to my butthole,” or, “You’re way too far away from my butthole.” And for me not to go into a crisis of confidence over that criticism is feminism. Yes, a lot of other things are feminism, but so is that. I will publicly apologize here to the guy I gave really, really tight hand jobs to. I wish I’d felt empowered enough back then to say, “Hey, how does this whole hand-job thing work? I haven’t done this much and it’s before the internet.” If we had a time machine and that “victim” thought feminism would have saved him from my hand gripping his manhood with the force of a hundred rubber bands, then I bet he would have joined in all the feminist marches.

I am very proud to be a feminist. And I’m not scared that boys won’t like me because I am one. In fact, I hope after reading this you’ll consider becoming (or staying) a feminist too. Because being equal is better for everyone. In bed (and in life) you deserve someone who wants to make themselves happy as much as they want to make you happy. It’s how everyone actually gets what they want. Trust me, feminism is your friend—your friend with benefits.


Hilary Winston is a television writer and producer who writes Playboy magazine’s monthly Women column.

Playboy Social

Never miss an issue. Subscribe and save today!

Loading...