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Friday, June 21, 2024
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Being a lesbian is hard f—king work — literally

Exploring lesbian sexuality isn’t easy in a male-dominated world

Everyone has the right to f—k, to get f—ked, and to abstain from f—king at their and their partner’s consensual discretion. 

But not all f—king is created equally.

For enjoyers of sex’s physical intimacy and the relief from hormone-fueled horniness that only an orgasm can sate, there will always be obstacles in getting to the actual act of f—king. Sometimes it’s a lack of self-confidence that causes one to turn to more automanual means, sometimes it’s the inability to find a person that suits one’s fancy and sometimes it’s simple bad luck.

However, for lesbians — cis or trans — it’s also systemic.

The inequality of access to f—king is a pervasive issue for the modern-day lesbian living in a world still entrenched in a male-oriented (or, more accurately, phallic-oriented) society that doesn’t recognize other forms of sex, leaving many lesbians in the dark. 

If the standard metric for sex is penile penetration of the vagina or anus (your hole, your choice), how do lesbians know at which point heavy petting has transcended into sex?

This is just one of the first issues that lesbians run into while exploring their physical sexuality: a lack of inclusive sex education. 

I won’t make a blanket statement and say that no schools teach the ins and outs of sex involving all genders and genitalia, but I can state pretty confidently that the majority of high school health courses aren’t explaining the mechanics of lesbian sex. The closest my health teacher got to broaching the subject was a lesson on the correct use of dental dams, which involves only the oral component of lesbian sex.

In short, the classroom isn’t enough.  

There’s always more organic sources: porn.

While we all know that any porn, no matter the category, is going to indulge in fantasy and present some lascivious lovemaking, lesbian porn is an even worse how-to guide for the real-life lesbian than straight porn is for their heteronormative counterparts.

The porn accessible to those first coming into their sexuality — typically teens and young adults — is either cheap or free and does not cater to the pleasure of the vagina-haver. 

Instead, accessible lesbian porn is all too often a cesspool of fetish work for a male penis-haver to jerk off to. The acts being performed aren’t for the pleasure of the vagina-havers in the video or the vagina-haver watching the video, but for the penis-haver lacking an intimate understanding of clitoral contentment.

Queer-friendly porn does exist — but usually for a fee. Porn that will be enjoyable for the lesbian and porn created specifically for the gratification of a vagina-having audience is often locked behind a paywall.

There’s nothing wrong with paying for porn and giving sex workers the monetary support they deserve — it’s just not always accessible for someone working a minimum wage job or paying for school.

Can the lesbian then turn to their peers? Can they collect anecdotes and advice from those closest to them to apply to their own sex lives?

More often than not, the answer is no.

Because we live in a heteronormative society, the majority of other vagina-havers are most likely engaging in sex with penis-havers. 

Even among my friends who are queer women, only a few have had sex with people other than cis men. As a young lesbian, I didn’t have a trusted person to turn to ask, “How the f—k do I f—k?”

Many of my queer female friends will tell you that they avoid lesbian sex simply because they don’t know how to actually f—k another woman. 

It’s an ouroboros of sexual frustration. The f—king does not happen because the f—king has not happened. 

And while some queer vagina-havers may find their outlet in a penis, the lesbian, more often than not, does not have this mechanic to turn to.

There’s of course nothing wrong with f—king a penis-haver — your hole, your choice. But that still leaves the lesbian to trudge forth and forge their own path of fornication.

But another problem quickly arises: Where does the lesbian go to f—k?

There’s an easy answer here: dating apps.

Tinder is certainly well known for hookups among the hetero-minded, and even gay men can turn to Grindr for a quick gritty get-down.

Hookup culture has its toxic traits, but such a culture — perfect or not — is almost nonexistent for lesbians.

As any lesbian that doesn’t live in a major city knows, lesbian Tinder provides about an hour’s worth of content before you have seen all the people who may have an interest in you. 

So can the lesbian then go find sexual partnership in the wild?

Well, not exactly.

Like all other queer people, lesbians lack safe spaces to meet potential sexual partners, especially ones living outside the confines of a major city. Upstate New York isn’t exactly known for its gayborhoods. 

Unlike their straight counterparts, who can meet potential partners in a multitude of social settings (dive bars, clubs — hell, even grocery stores), it’s not always safe for a lesbian to pursue their interests. 

Outside of designated queer spaces, pursuing someone that is not the opposite gender can incite violence, social retribution and homophobia. 

The lesbian is left at a systemic sexual impasse.

It feels unfair, to be a body in want of another consensual body, but with limited means to create a plan for this pleasure.

Kara Anderson is the social media coordinator and can be reached at 



Kara Anderson is a senior arts editor at The Spectrum. She is an English and Spanish double major and is pursuing a certificate in creative writing. She enjoys baking chocolate chip cookies, procrastinating with solitaire and binging reality TV on the weekends.  



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