Into The Strange
The adjective strange comes from the Latin word extraneus, meaning “foreign” or “external.” Many of us often consider our innermost sexual impulses to be strange, no matter how many people may share similar desires. We tend to guard our longings against friends and even our lovers. One of the top questions asked in sex therapy is: Am I normal? Aside from shaky self-perception, I believe that this question illustrates a deeper vulnerability at the very heart of desire—and for good reason—many of us have endured a wide range of judgment and persecution over how and who we fuck. Our need to be accepted may encourage us to obscure ourselves, but in so doing, we suffer from unmet longings to be seen.
In general, the extreme, secretive compression under which we have become autonomous sexual beings has deprived us of a descriptive vocabulary as well as insight into the symbolic nature of our fantasies and desires. Truly, the majority of our fantasies are glimpses into our emotional needs, not real-life scenarios that require enactment. Each of us experiences a spectrum of pragmatism and risk-calculation that we can bring to our inquiry of whether or not to act upon specific desires—but only if we exonerate them from beneath smothering blankets of shame. When we feel less fearful of revealing ourselves, we enjoy deeper connections and increased satisfaction. We also make more meaningful choices for ourselves and with others.
All desire springs from childish innocence—our literal childhoods—and is the life force that permeates every possible living thing. When we bring consciousness to the hidden realms within us, nothing is verifiably strange. Rather than questioning the normalcy of what brings aliveness into our bodies, a more telling question might be: To whom am I strange?