The Female Gaze
...on the question of erotics.
Approx 11min read
I wish I lived in a time before mirrors, before photographs, video and film. A time when feeling trumped seeing and was the only brail we had to follow.
This morning I learned Dr Saida Desillet’s Jade Goddess Orbit Practice.
This morning I learned Dr Saida Desillet’s Jade Goddess Orbit Practice. In this practice, you move energy through your body, clearing any blocked channels and getting the flow of your chi moving freely again. This is not an inherently sexual practice, it’s actually a fundamentally Toaist practice. But, just by engaging the practice in earnest, I had a few, small energy orgasms right there on the public beach where I’d chosen to get my chi moving! My body’s response was as unexpected as it was delicious!
Unfortunately, this kind of empowered, autonomous access to my own sexuality was not what I was taught as a girl. I was taught the sexuality of religion and of pornography. In other words, the sexuality of service, self-denial, power over and aesthetics. I was taught “the male gaze” - poses and archetypes designed to simplify the complex, idolize the erotic and tyrannize the body. The virgin, the vexer, the Vaudeville dancer. The saint, the sex-pot, the sumptuous seductress. The needy-wretch, the nervous-Nelly. The poor victim and the pitiable prey. The juvenile and the Jezebel. Etc, etc, etc. All labels that had nothing to do with what I felt or how I related to the world and my own body. All of these teachings tied my entire sexual identity to the response of a boy, not to the response of my body.
All of these teachings tied my entire sexual identity to the response of a boy, not to the response of my body.
I have spent the past seven years healing deeply wounded places within my erotic being, mining shadows to find the overgrown pathways back to the light. And, now, I am hell bent on finding out what’s on the other side of the male gaze? What, exactly, is the “female gaze”?
What, exactly, is the “female gaze”?
This, it turns out, is very difficult to unearth.
At first, I didn’t know where to start and had no one I could turn to - the whole world seemed to have been fully and completely indoctrinated into male gaze erotics. Even women assess each other through that lens. Even on a retreat I participated in, designed to bring people back into their own bodies, an exercise was hosted whereby women were all encouraged to create very specific sensual poses that mimicked all the unimaginative standbys from every male gaze sexual idea we’ve ever been fed.
So, in place of outside guidance, I started seeking out places where I could escape this masculine sexual tyranny and mental domination. I looked for private places in nature where I could put up my proverbial hair, take off my lingerie and feel the caresses of the sun, wind, water and air on my naked skin just for the sheer pleasure of the sensations, not for the benefit of leering eyes. And, one of the things I uncovered was that my sexual energy has nothing to do with the shapes I make in the mirror but has everything to do with the access I have to my deep authentic essence.
…my sexual energy has nothing to do with the shapes I make in the mirror but has everything to do with the access I have to my deep authentic essence.
When I can manage to quiet the noise of the world and commune with the powerful, gentle, playful, soulful, relaxed, calm, and commanding energies that are accessible within and all around me, my inherent ecstasy is awakened; bliss becomes a natural state of being. Suddenly I realize that I do not need touch, sexual fantasies, the attention of a man or stimulation to be aroused; arousal is a state that I can enter of my own choice at any moment. This revelation was subversive. It upended everything I’d ever been told or demonstrated about my own eros. “It’s in me?!” I found myself marveling, alarmed and excited. And the answer seemed to come back, “That’s right. Your arousal has nothing to do with his gaze, his touch, or his approval. It is your birthright. Your bliss is for you.”
Your arousal has nothing to do with his gaze, his touch, or his approval. It is your birthright.
I have had many seasons in my life where I have covered up all the mirrors in my home. Exhausted from the weight of all the lusty eyes and judging looks from the world at large. I needed my home to be a place where I could be free from my own critical gaze and objectification. But, always that need to see, to “look right”, to present well, to assess my value would return. The mirrors were uncovered. The lingerie brought back out, the poses struck. And if I liked what I saw, I felt joyful. If I didn’t, I felt psychically scorned by the world at large. Even I didn’t like myself as much.
As I discover the truth inherent in my own sexual power, I no longer cover my mirrors to escape the relentless judgement and expectation. Instead, I close my eyes and really get present in my body. There in the darkness, a whole field of colour, light, sound, sensation and possibility abounds. There, I can hear my spirit speak and feel my body’s pleasure. There the images, poses, shapes and demands of the male gaze melt into a lustrous golden syrup of light that I let flow over me and run off, sliding away into memory. There I can remember Myself. There, in the mirror of my mind, I know what I am, what I like and I have access to it all. It’s all right there within me, ripe for the picking.
I am not talking about masturbation, I am talking about deep and profound connection to my own, life-giving energy.
I am not talking about masturbation, I am talking about deep and profound connection to my own, life-giving energy. I am talking about learning to be present with “what is” without judgement – allowing life to show up in all of her glory without deeming the comfortable bits “good” and the uncomfortable bits “bad”. I am talking about recognizing the value and validity in every living, breathing moment and feeling them into every cell of my being. I am talking about going inward to witness yourself, to meet yourself and, there, smile deeply at yourself no matter what you find - the good, the bad and the ugly.
Entering my own unearthed shadows and smiling, I found my erotic self; I found access to my bright, beaming erotic light; I found access to my thick, slippery and mysterious darkness. I was not looking for eros in the stones I was over-turning, but once I stopped trying to change, fix, control and escape my reality, my truth came forward to make itself known and my truth…was sexy. There, in the playground of Presence, where I am responsible but not in control, a deep, primordial power that lay dormant within me was awakened…the primordial, creative force of the Universe.
…once I stopped trying to change, fix, control and escape my reality, my truth came forward to make itself known and my truth…was sexy.
I wish my deep psyche had never been colonized by images that told me what “makes me sexy”.
There is this tremendous sense of gain and joy in unearthing this kind of inherent power as well as a subtle sadness. I find myself wishing I had lived in a time without mirrors. I wish my deep psyche had never been colonized by images that told me what “makes me sexy”. They are so hard to shake. I wish I could know what it would have felt like to have only ever experienced my own erotic through the sensations on my skin and the energies in my body. Nothing else. No outside influences. I imagine what it could have been like if I was able to move through the world with this growing, new-found erotic sense from birth. It’s exciting to think about what puberty could have been like, the exploration, the thrill, the joy and bliss instead of the pain, the angst and the loss of autonomy.
I am still only on the tip of the erotic iceberg.
I am still uncovering and discovering. I am still only on the tip of the erotic iceberg. But, so far, what I’ve found is that the female gaze is about power from within not power over; it is about serving what is, not serving what we want things to be; and it is about how we feel not about how we look. It is the exact medicine the masculine needs just as the male gaze, in healthy doses, is the medicine that the feminine needs.
I know I need the male gaze, but I have to be careful about how and when I let it in. One day I will have developed my own, natural, free and unhighjacked erotic energy enough to learn to integrate the male gaze into my sexuality in a healthy way but, for now, it’s tricky and, mostly, I shut it out. Yes, iron sharpens iron, but when you have been in the foundry for four and a half decades, some concentrated time in the forest is needed before revisiting the fires. I know that my mirror is a window to my beauty, it’s my friend, not my foe, but, until what I see reflected back at me is a pure reflection of what I feel within and nothing else, I am still a slave to it. As long as my reflection continues to be an image that can be assessed by outside metrics, my psyche is still colonized and I am not in my full, beautiful, glorious, innocent, easy, and profound sexual power. The mirror does not yet feel like my friend.
As long as my reflection continues to be an image that can be assessed by outside metrics, my psyche is still colonized
I know the shackles of the male gaze have left a permanent mark, I wore them exclusively, for so long, and through my most formative years. But I also trust that, while still quite mysterious and unknown to me, the female gaze is my natural erotic state and, so, will take over the terrain quickly and effectively if I remain deeply honest with myself, dedicated to my presence and ever curious about what’s around the riverbend.
I will respond to comments in the am! Gotta sleep now. xxoo 💋
This is a long one, sorry in advance. You opened a tap, and now it’s going to pour out.
Your words stirred something very deep in me. I felt seen, not observed, but met. Thank you for the courage it takes to put language to something so fundamental, and yet so rarely spoken.
The male gaze says: “Show me who you are.” The female gaze says: “Feel who you are even when no one is watching.”
And how true it is that only when the latter is grounded and safe can the former become play rather than captivity.
For me, the male gaze has been tied to demands from an early age. To complying even when I didn’t want to. To feel small, I was an object for a stranger’s hands on a dance floor, a body pressed against a wall without consent. I remember feeling unwanted as a human being, yet usable as a body, as if I existed for someone else’s pleasure, not my own. In the relationships I’ve had, I carried a quiet belief that my body belonged to him, that sex was for him, not for me.
Girls learn early how to be seen: how to be good, pleasant, receptive. We learn to read the room, adjust, anticipate. We are mirrored back through how we look, how we behave, how we affect others but rarely through how it feels inside us. Rarely through what we experience, what we want, or what we don’t want, without having to justify it.
And then there is the mirror, as you said. How it becomes a tool. How it teaches us to evaluate, correct, compare ourselves to others. How early we develop that inner observer who constantly asks, “How do I appear right now? Am I enough?” and how that observer follows us into our sexuality.
Your words gave language to something I’ve lived with for a long time but never fully understood.
When I was younger, I remember how exhausted I often was. Working all day, training and competing in my sport, then coming home to yet another expectation, another performance. Somewhere there, I thought to myself: “I love him. But something in me shuts down.” Not the heart but the body. The body saying, “I don’t want to be looked at right now.”
I could long for closeness but not sex. I wanted to be touched, but not aroused. And that made me feel guilty, ashamed for not wanting it. I began to believe something was wrong with me, that the relationship lacked chemistry, that I was the broken one.
In my mid-20s, I cut my hair short. Suddenly, men stopped looking at me the way they used to, and it felt nice. Until i was at a festival, a friend of a friend said, “You are the ugliest woman I have ever seen.” It cut deep, even though I knew ugly isn’t a look… it’s a behavior. i wanted to scream: “GOOD! I’M NOT HERE FOR YOU. If you think I’m ugly, that’s on you, not me.” But i didn´t.
Years later, my hair grown long, I ran into him again. He smiled, soft, called me beautiful, angelic.
I just looked at him and said: “I’m not here for you.” and walked away. I got my revenge. Yet i didn´t feel any better.
You also named something so important: how sex within the male gaze requires presence, response, feedback, and direction, even when it is loving. And how, after years, sometimes decades, the body finally says, “I don’t want to perform my pleasure anymore.” Desire doesn’t disappear because one is cold, but because one is exhausted from being visible.
What you write helps me understand my own longing more clearly: I wish I could be at home in myself in the same way… without resistance when I am loved, desired, and seen. I know this feels far from me right now, i can’t even take a compliment without pushing it away, or I find something else to say and move on. i want to practice being present with myself, even when it feels uncomfortable.
Maybe many relationships quietly end not because love fades, but because one is giving while the other is taking, and they are never met in the same place. Until both can meet themselves first, the dance of intimacy risks becoming asymmetrical, leaving one heart nourished and the other silently guarding itself.
Okey, I need to stop writing now or this is going to turn into essay.
So, if you could guide someone who is just beginning to discover their own female gaze, what would you say to help them trust their own body and presence? We all have different backgrounds with the male gaze, do you think each of us can truly reach this place within ourselves?