I’ve been expanding my knowledge and understanding of sex and sexuality since I was about 12. Back then, I was pulling books from my mom’s library, an interesting mix of feminist literature, sci-fi, and Stephen King novels. That early reading shaped a lot—I discovered beautiful things about my body and pleasure, but I also absorbed a new and lingering shame around being a sexual being. I’m grateful for everything I learned early on, but let’s be real: by the time I hit my teens, I knew more about feminism, relationships, fantasies, and orgasms than I did about horror story plots.
Growing up under the roof of a petite yet incredibly elegant woman meant there weren’t stashes of Playboys or explicit visual content lying around—just a Boris Vallejo calendar in the kitchen and the monthly Victoria’s Secret catalog. That being said, I’ve always explored sexuality, sex, and gender at my own pace, through a pro-woman feminist lens, in a household that was open and supportive (as long as I was brave enough to ask the questions).
Since then, my education has mostly happened in the shadows, not because I wanted it that way, but because of the culture I live in—one where an openly curious, cisgender, heterosexual man interested in sex is often reduced to the “male pervert” stereotype. Also, there is an ever-present reminder from well-meaning people (friends, family, strangers, and the media) that my curiosity about sex must mean I’m a misogynist or, at the very least, that something’s wrong with me.
There’s nothing wrong with me. I just so happen to live in a repressed culture where even talking about basic empathy can make people question my confidence, my manhood, my entrepreneurship—or my “Black card.” My curiosity and thirst for knowledge about humanity, behavior, and sex come from a deep desire to expand my empathetic understanding of myself and others. That curiosity is natural. If it killed the cat, well, I’m still here.
I hope my continued exploration and openness around sex will help others step out of the shadows, maybe even out of the closet, and into the warm, woke light of reality. Sex and sexuality are not evil.
Moving beyond books, educational films, blogs, NSFW internet rabbit holes, porn (yes, surprise—I think I’ve seen the end of the internet), and TED Talks, I’ve finally decided to take my interest into the light. I recently completed the Human Sexuality Intensive at the Kinsey Institute, earning a certificate of completion. Even though I just wrapped it up, I already know I’ve found another incredible group of my people—nerdy, open-minded, curious stone-flippers who are wickedly intelligent and humble students of sex and sexuality. I hope to continue learning from them and with them over time.
So, What’s Next?
I’m going to keep learning—duh. But more than that, I need to be open to sharing what I know and creating space for conversations where others can do the same without shame.
I’ve spent years researching, studying, practicing, and teaching empathy. But when it comes to relationships, intimacy, sex, and sexuality, there’s been an invisible wall—a shifting, sand-built wall that, like the dunes of the Sahara I once ran across in Morocco, is always moving. I know that once I fully step into this space, there’s no going back. Curiosity didn’t kill this can and now, there’s no way to put this sexy cat back in the bag. The knowledge I gain will reshape how I experience life—marriage, parenting, partnerships, friendships, teaching, and even my relationship with myself. And while I know that some people will show up for this conversation and others won’t, I also fear being alone in it.
But, like empathy, sex and sexuality are about connection. The sand wall is already shifting, breaking apart as I begin to speak with others, coach others, and hold space for people to explore themselves and each other.
Why am I doing this?
Because there aren’t enough voices for men in this space—at least not ones that speak to me. There are the anti-porn guys, the “just go work out” guys, and the religious perspectives on sex and sexuality. But where are the empathetic, compassionate men who are exploring these topics without arrogance, massive privilege, or low-key judgment? Where are the men creating space for curiosity and emotional depth?
And then there’s this: I want to take us beyond the dismissive, painful phrase “Nobody has ever died from not having sex.” Because, while “no sex” may not physically kill us, the loneliness, depression, and anxiety that come from the absence of intimacy are real. For some, sex is more than a want—it is an emotional and spiritual need. We talk about consent and communication in healthy relationships, but we rarely talk about the depth of longing, the ache of disconnection, and the way intimacy shapes our emotional and mental well-being. I champion consent. I also want to champion healthy relationships for all partners.
Sex and sexuality aren’t the problem. Our lack of understanding, our inability to talk about and practice them with honesty and care—that’s the problem. The same is true for empathy and compassion. The things we refuse to talk about are the things that hold us back.
Sex-education continued
I’m actively exploring a Somatic Sexual Bodywork course to deepen my understanding of the physical and emotional layers of intimacy. I want to build Intimacy Lab—a space where these conversations can happen openly, where people can learn, share, and challenge the norms that have kept us silent for too long.
I’m also considering opening a gallery and conversation series, where taboo topics—sex, pleasure, power, intimacy, the phases of menopause, etc. —can be explored through art, dialogue, and experience.
More books. Maybe a book club. Definitely more writing.
And I’ll be looking to go to Sex Down South, as well as seeking out alternative sex and sexuality-oriented meetups, conferences, and educational opportunities to keep expanding this conversation.
I don’t have all the answers. But I do know that we need more voices, more spaces, and more real, raw discussions.
And I’m ready to step fully into that.
Potential follow up blog posts:
- So what did I read on my mom’s book shelf?
- One book was Nancy Friday‘s My Secret Garden. Recently, I read her follow up book Men in Love. bell hooks was on the shelf and so was Gloria Steinem. Leads me to wanting to have a similar shelf for my kids to pull from. I think I read Cujo and became afraid of dogs and Dune (not the whole thing) and became afraid if sand. Watched the movie, the Blob when I was small too…and refused to shower. LOL…I am highly influenced by what I read.
- ???
Hello, I am Shelton. 