The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Wednesday, December 9, 2020 — 15
statement

Sex on the 
Sex on the 
internet
internet

BY ALIX CURNOW, STATEMENT COLUMNIST

P

lease, no, not on social media. I *heart 
emoji* you so much and really no. Sa-
vor it for the personal and unique, 

not the masses,” read the comment my aunt had 
left on a photo I posted on Instagram last week. 
The photo was of me, with my back to the cam-
era, wearing a bra and a thong. Before I posted 
the photo, I had texted it to my group chat with 
friends from high school.

“Do y’all think this is too scandalous to post 

on my Instagram?” I asked them. They all re-
plied with a resounding “No,” which was fol-
lowed by compliments on the photograph and 
questions about where I had gotten the lingerie. 

Excited, I uploaded the picture. My phone 

began notifying me of countless likes and com-
ments surrounding the picture. I got the typi-
cal rush of dopamine that comes with posting 
anything on social media and receiving positive 
feedback. The photo had been up for a cou-
ple of days and I was happy with it. I thought 
it looked nice with the rest of my feed and it 
seemed like most other people did too. 

After day three of the photo being posted, 

my aunt left her comment. In consequence, 
almost as quickly as the photo was uploaded, 
I archived it. Immediately after, I deleted the 
entire Instagram app from my phone. I didn’t 
want a reminder of her comment or of the pho-
to. I sat on the floor of my room, my cheeks hot 
with embarrassment.

“I probably looked like such a slut to other 

people who weren’t bold enough to comment 
as my aunt did!” I thought to myself. I thought 
about the fact that the first man I had ever had 
sex with, who I hadn’t talked to in five years 
and who never usually likes my Instagram 
posts, had liked the image. “God…” I thought. 
“He only ever wanted me for my body anyway.” 

My head filled with thoughts of self-hatred 

and anxiety. I questioned my intentions behind 
posting the photograph. Did I post it so the men 
on my page would see it and find me attractive? 
Did I post it because I felt good? Did I post it 
because I wanted to contribute to an Instagram 
environment where scandalous photos like the 
one I posted are normalized? Did I post it be-
cause I wanted to celebrate the female figure?

All these questions didn’t seem to have an 

answer. Maybe these rationalizations were all 
true, maybe none of them were. I felt put into 
a bind: I didn’t know if my post was self-em-
powering or if my post contributed to patriar-
chal exploitation and sexualization. Why did 
my photograph have to contribute to that? I 
certainly didn’t intend for it to — but it seemed 
that my aunt’s notions of its appropriateness 
lent itself to unsolicited sexualization of my 
body. Or … was it solicited because I had posted 
it on my Instagram? Why did a photo of me in 
lingerie have to be sexual anyway?

My relationship with my own sexuality has 

never been something I’m ashamed of. Before 
entering a monogamous relationship, I regular-
ly participated in hook-up culture. I enjoy sex 
— like, a lot. I’ve always been excited to explore 
different areas of my sexuality, and quite frank-
ly, my relationship to sex is something I take a 
lot of pride in. I felt comfortable with sex and 
wearing lingerie, and I felt comfortable enough 
to post that photo on my Instagram. 

So why was I so incredibly embarrassed 

when my aunt commented on my post? Perhaps 
because in the generation she grew up in, any-

thing related to sex was seen as a more private 
activity than it is now. To my aunt, the photo of 
me in lingerie was inherently sexual. I did see 
it as a rather sexy post, but that didn’t make it 
bad. Why did my aunt think that exposing my-
self sexually on social media was something I 
shouldn’t do?

At first, I saw my aunt’s comment as a reflec-

tion of myself: Because I posted a sexy photo 
on my Instagram, I was asking to be sexualized, 
which meant I was a slut. Yet, I started to think 
about why posting a sexual photo on Instagram 
made me think of myself as a slut? When I saw 
other people post “scandalous” photos on their 
Instagram, I’ve never thought that of them. I 
think it’s because oftentimes, women are made 
to feel ashamed for expressing themselves in a 
sexual light. I had control over my Instagram 
and what photos I posted. This made posting 
the photo an act of sexual empowerment. How-
ever, I don’t have control over how other peo-
ple will react. Nor do I think I need to.

I realize now that my aunt’s comment was 

a reflection of her and her own relationship to 
sex. From her comment, I could see that my 
aunt thought photos that were more sexual 
should be personal and unique, whereas my ap-
proach to sexual photos and sex overall is that 
if it makes you feel good, do it! While I see her 
perception of sex as valid, it isn’t the same as 
mine. 

Everyone else who liked the photo or saw it 

on their Instagram feed has their own unique 
relationship to sex. Perhaps they wouldn’t feel 
comfortable posting a photo in lingerie on their 
Instagram feed. That’s perfectly fine with me 
and I understand their viewpoint, but it doesn’t 
mean I should feel bad or guilty for posting it 
on my own. 

Especially from the heteronormative male 

perspective, women can be sexy privately, but 
not publicly. They can be sexy for their partner, 
but the minute they recognize their own sexual 
identity and develop a desire to showcase that 
to the world, they are subject to ridicule and 
slut-shaming. Why is a woman taking owner-
ship of her own sexuality deemed something to 
be ashamed of? 

I’ll never truly understand why my aunt 

commented on my post. She said “I *heart emo-
ji* you so much,” which makes me think she did 
it out of love. Maybe she sees the way women 
are viewed and sexualized in society, and she 
doesn’t want that for me. I don’t want that for 
me either. Which is why rather than deleting 
my post entirely, I decided to delete her com-
ment. If my aunt or anyone has a problem with 
my Instagram photo, that’s something they can 
investigate on their own time. Because it truly 
has nothing to do with me. 

When women are modest, they are seen as 

boring. When women are sexual, they are seen 
as easy. If we, as women, are going to be contin-
uously placed into boxes, I suggest that rather 
than trying to adhere to societal standards of 
what we should and shouldn’t be, we do what 
feels good to us. Whether that’s posting a scan-
dalous photo on your Instagram or having a 
feed that’s only kittens and food porn. No mat-
ter what women do, someone will always have 
something to say about it, so as long as we’re 
not harming anyone else in the process, let’s 
embrace what we’ve got and forget about the 
rest.

ILLUSTRATIONS BY MAGGIE WEIBE