purple

mother & daughter, sex & sexuality

I wrote this passage in 2019 during a workshop facilitated by a wonderful woman named Amrita Kumar Ratta. The workshop was titled “Shades of a Brown Girl” and each participant was asked to pick one colour, its corresponding theme, and write. I picked purple and its corresponding theme: sexuality. As a brown woman, it’s always felt hard for me to divorce sex and sexuality from my parents, particularly my mother. So much of what I think about sex and sexuality is formed by my mother’s experiences and her thoughts on sex and sexuality. Unlearning this inheritance has been quite the journey. This passage is part of that learning and unlearning.

I’m sitting on the dining table with my mom and my three best friends. We’re talking about boys and eating my mom’s biryani. I’m stuffed. I love my mom’s biryani. In the middle of our conversation on boys, my mom speaks up.

“Girls, don’t ever give away your gehna.” I’m confused. “Your what?”, I ask. “You know, your gehna. Respect yourself. Dont’ ever be easy.” She’s talking about virginity.

I’m wearing a bright yellow shirt and I’m driving on the highway. My palms are sweaty on the steering wheel and my stomach is in knots. I’m losing my virginity today. All I can think about is my mom. And the guilt. If only she knew her daughter was hitting 100 in an 80 zone after having told her she was going to the Twilight Drive-in Theatre, that really she was going to a hotel far, far from Surrey. My stomach churns and my legs are shaky. My mouth is dry, my heart in my chest. I was giving my gehna away today.

Destiny’s Child’s “Independent Woman” goes off at 9pm, my alarm to take my birth control pill. My mom and I are at a reception and she glances at my phone. “You’re probably not taking the pill for your PCOS. You’re probably doing the other thing with it. So I ask her, “why is sex such a bad thing? Who taught you that and where did you learn it?” She tells me a woman feels dirty after sex. That you don’t feel good. That it’s never about you so why do it? She says sex never, ever gets you respect.

In August of 2022, I courageously and boldly hit publish on a podcast episode titled, “10 things I didn’t learn about sex”. I’ve done many scary things, but this has got to be one of the scariest. I was telling the world that I knew what sex was, that I’d had it, and that I was keen on learning more about it. As a young, 24 year old brown girl, I still can’t believe that I was able to do that.

As brown women, we are sexualized, yet we are denied a sexuality. I grew up watching many depictions of brown women in their sexual prowess. I religiously watched Bollywood item songs because I loved the way women adorned and moved their bodies in these videos. I also loved how they commanded the attention of the men in these scenes and something about it felt enticing to me. It was in complete contradiction to the messaging I was receiving otherwise as a brown girl. I was never encouraged to explore my body, my desires, to speak openly about what I found desirable, and never taught how to explore these desires in a safe manner. When I came of age, I was awkward in my body, didn’t know what it meant to feel sexy, and feel very disconnected from my body. I was letting boys kiss me and touch me, but none of it made much sense to me. I constantly found myself standing in the dead centre of a cross roads, not knowing which way to go.

As a young woman, I went from having no sex, to having too much sex, and then back to not having any of it at all. Through all of it, the one thing that has remained consistent and true is that I don’t experience sex, pleasure, and desire as purely my own. I consistently centre the values and principles of the patriarchal figures from my community when it comes to sex, pleasure, and desire. This impacts who I’m attracted to, who I do or do not engage in intimacy with, whether I have sex or not, and how present or NOT present in my body I feel when I am engaging in intimacy. None of these things are inherently mine. It feels like I carry the weight of everyone except myself.

If I were to have a daughter, I would fill her head with positive affirmations and insights around her body, desire, pleasure, and sex. I would teach her that she has a sexuality, that her body’s desire to be touched, loved, and held are not wrong. I would ensure that shame stayed far, far away from her and I would encourage her to see desire, pleasure, and sex as normal parts of being a girl and a woman.

I would also teach her how to say no. I would teach her that if someone was dishonouring her, her body, and the courage of her desire that she could get up and leave. I was never taught that and I don’t think I could’ve been. I would fill my daughter’s body up with enough courage to recognize when something was misaligned for her and to trust the innate wisdom of her body.

More than anything, I would teach her to seek and experience sex from an empowered place. I would teach her how to explore and be familiar with the edges of her pleasure and boundaries. I would teach her not to use sex to get someone to like her. I would teach her that intimacy and pleasure can be fun, explored with caution and respect.

These are things that I’m trying to go back and teach myself now. It feels incredibly challenging because the conditioning that we receive as brown women on and around sex, intimacy, pleasure, and desire is deeply entrenched. So here I am, writing a Substack article, telling the world that I know what sex is that I’ve had it, and that I am keen on learning more about it. As a young, 29 year old brown woman, I still can’t believe that I am doing this.

I’m currently offering 1:1 sessions for brown girls & women through Office Hours with Harpo Didi. You come with whatever is alive for you and I meet you there. I draw from the tools and wisdom I’ve lived and practiced — deep listening, guided meditation, years of therapy, parts work, oracle and tarot, reiki, and intuitive feminine wisdom that’s been forged through experience and theory.

This isn’t about fixing you because frankly baby girl, there is nothing wrong with you. All we have to do is help you become more aware of things outside of your consciousness and bring it into the forefront so that you may be able to choose how to live your life. Office Hours with Harpo Didi is about helping you hear yourself more clearly, regulate your nervous system, and remember what you already know — with someone who actually gets it.

I’m offering 60-minute sessions on a sliding scale of $80–$120, trusting you to choose what feels reciprocal and sustainable for you. If this interests you and you’d like to book a virtual 60 minute 1:1 with me, email me at harpreetmander96@gmail.com.