Freud Started It

The first time I realized Freud was still in my sex life, I was in my twenties, drunk, in the Hollywood Hills. It turns out a single man’s theory can curl into the corners of our bedrooms, our language, our shame.

In the jacuzzi, the women talk about manifestation. The sunset melts from pink to silver—LA’s daily performance. I nudge the conversation from cashew cheese to female pleasure. At first the responses are slow, soft, shy. Giggles. Long stares at pruny fingers. But then something shifts. Comfort bubbles up, and chatter cascades in all directions, like horny bumper cars. The texture of speech grows raw, panicked, hopeful, curious. I realize we’re all starving for nakedness, for the primal, for the stigmatized.

Again and again, the same concerns surface: I don’t think I’ve ever had an orgasm. I don’t know if it’s happened with my partner. I’ve never had a vaginal orgasm, only a clitoral orgasm, so maybe I’m defective.

This idea—that vaginal orgasms are “mature” and clitoral ones “immature”—comes from Freud. His framework divided orgasms along those lines, rooted in heteronormative, patriarchal nonsense. It wasn’t just theory—it was ideology in service of reproduction. Vaginal orgasms meant more babies, more workers, more social order. Female pleasure outside of that framework was dismissed.

But here’s the truth: there is no hierarchy of orgasms. As sexologist Emily Nagoski says, pleasure is the measure. The real question is simple: what feels good in my body today?

The vaginal orgasm is not superior to the clitoral orgasm.

Freud left us shame disguised as truth. But we don’t have to keep carrying it. Maybe the revolution isn’t in choosing the “right” orgasm—it’s in choosing our own language for pleasure.