The Most Taboo Suggestion

When I began this work, I believed the most radical act would be discussing female anatomy. Surely, this was the last frontier—the point where shame dissolved, and freedom began. But I was wrong. That conversation was only the threshold. Beyond it lay something far more provocative, far more dangerous: the suggestion that women know what they want and have the right to pursue it.

This idea is not simply uncomfortable; it upends the cultural narratives we’ve inherited about power, desire, and agency. Movements like #MeToo brought these narratives into sharp relief, exposing the invisible myths that govern our lives. At their core is a story that women’s agency is fragile, that their capacity to act is limited. This story, told in many voices—patriarchal, feminist, and otherwise—casts women either as objects of power or as its victims, but rarely as its stewards.

Such a story, though it may ignite movements, cannot sustain transformation. It denies women the dignity of responsibility, the recognition of their full humanity. Instead, it traps us in a binary worldview: oppressors and oppressed, heroes and villains, saviors and victims. True change will never emerge from these poles; it resides in the spaces in between.

The real question isn’t whether women should have power, but what is power, and how does it express itself through the feminine? This is not a question society has been eager to explore. For centuries, feminine power has been misunderstood, feared, and suppressed. Nowhere is this clearer than in the way we treat women’s sexuality. Feminine sexuality has been framed as unruly, dangerous, chaotic—a force to control, manage, and hide.

But this suppression isn’t just cultural; it is existential. When women are disconnected from their sexuality, they are disconnected from their deepest source of vitality. Sexuality, when rightly understood, is not merely about reproduction or pleasure. It is the energy of creation itself. It is what allows us to imagine, connect, and create anew.

And yet, the bargain society offers women is devastatingly clear: suppress your desire, and you may gain equality. Deny your power, and you may even be deemed superior—angelic, virtuous, passionless. But this bargain is not empowerment. It is self-erasure.

This erasure has brought us to a cultural stalemate where even the suggestion that women could wield their full erotic and creative power is treated as threatening. Movements like #MeToo often reinforce this framing by operating within a paradigm of anger and punishment. In doing so, they risk perpetuating the very systems they seek to dismantle. Retribution, though seductive, is not the same as restoration.

Restoration asks something deeper of us. It asks us to reimagine how power operates, not as domination but as connection. It means asking: What would the world look like if women were fully self-possessed—if they could embody their power without fear or division? Such a world would not be built on binaries of victimhood and blame. It would be built on responsibility, creativity, and connection.

True change cannot be legislated or imposed through rules. It emerges from a deeper understanding of ourselves and each other. It requires a kind of accountability that goes beyond punishment—a recognition of human complexity, of flaws, and of the infinite potential for growth.

This brings us to a fundamental question: What would happen if women reclaimed their sexual power, not as something to fear or hide, but as a sacred and generative force? Imagine a world where women, fully connected to their erotic nature, stand rooted in their creative energy—where desire is not treated as dangerous but as a compass pointing toward what is possible. This reclamation would ripple outward, reshaping how we view leadership, creativity, and the very fabric of society.

The question is no longer whether this transformation can occur—it is whether we are ready to cross the line.