Esperanto Magazine — 14 The Sex Edition | MONSU Caulfield

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Caitlin Cefai

Sarah Louise

Alyssa Maggio

Edie Hopgood

Angel Tully

Esperanto Student Magazine

MONSU Caulfield Inc.

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+61 3 9903 2525

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Esperanto Magazine is published by MONSU Caulfield Inc. Views expressed within do not necessarily reflect those of MONSU Caulfield Inc, the editorial panel, the publisher, or any other person associated with Esperanto.

PUBLISHER

PRINTER

PAPER

TYPE CREDITS

WRITERS

MONSU Caulfield Inc.

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Pacesetter Laser Recycled

Neuzeit Grotesk, Roc Grotesk, Roboto.

Angel Tully, Jackie Zhou, Akira Kerr, Sarah Louise, Shabnam Sidhu, Caitlin Cefai, Madison Marshall, Lily Sundberg, Jo, Andie Perez, Shabnam Sidhu, Sreemoyee Banerjee, Alleisha Pereira-Stephens, Fae Gehren, Akira Kerr, Elodie Ricaud.

ARTISTS

Alyssa Maggio, Ilanda Tran, Jackie Zhou, Madison Marshall, Emily Lederman, Ava Toon, Alleisha Pereira-Stephens, Lola Churchill, Jacquelyn Affidon, Natalie Song, Joanna Samson, Fae Gehren.

COVER ART

Emily Lederman, Lily Sundberg, Roi Yang.

We would like to acknowledge the traditional owners of the land where Esperanto has been created, the Boon Wurrung and Wurundjeri peoples of the Kulin Nation as Traditional Owners and Custodians. We pay respect to their Elders past, present and emerging. Sovereignty was never ceded.

CONTENTS

Sex & The Main Character Complex

Words by A. Louise

Switching It Up

Words by Jo

Uncovering My Version Of Modesty

Words by Andie Perez

Awakening

Pillow Princess: Reign On

Words by Angel Tully, Artwork by Ilanda Tran

Visiting The Pharmacist

Words by Shabnam Sidhu, Artwork by Ava Toon

Lets Talk About (Biological) Sex, Baby

Words and Photography by Jackie Zhou

Can’t Unsee It

Photography and Styling by Alleisha Pereira-Stephens

In The Absence Of Sex

Words and Artwork by Madison Marshall

Mindfully Experiencing Or Unconsciously Performing?

Words by Elodie Ricaud

Getting In The Mood

Words by Sreemoyee Banerjee

Lingerie Photoshoot

Photography by Anonymous

POV: Walking Through The Red Light District

Words and Photography by Sarah Louise

Contraception Reception

Words by Akira Kerr

Netflix and Chill: A Guide For A Romantic (Or Raunchy) Movie Night

Words by Alleisha Pereira-Stephens

Expressions Of Self Love

Photography by Tom Meissner & Marina Srivilai

Unbound Love

Words by Fae Gehren, Artwork by Ilanda Tran

PlayThey

Creative Direction, Styling and Words by Lily Sundberg, Photography Emily Lederman

Produced by Caitlin Cefai, Fae Gehren, Photography, Styling + Modelling by Ilanda Tran, Jackie Zhou, Lola Churchill, Jacquelyn Affidon, Natalie Song, Joanna Samson

SEX.XXXXXXX

Pure, primal, sweat dripping, hair pulling, forgetting-your-own-name kind of sex. If you’re not into that, we can totally be having afternoon delight, soft touches, fingering and tongue-kissing, making love kind of sex.

Or maybe you don’t bother with any of it. The point is, whatever you fancy, we are here to talk away the taboos.

From pain to pleasure, from confusion to knowing, from intimacy to distance. We know you love it…

So let's give our readers something to really wank over!

Words and Artwork by A. Louise

SEX & THE MAIN CHARACTER COMPLEX

Sitting down to write this article feels Bradshawrian; reflecting on my love life as a 20-something white woman in the big city. Wow, how original!

Yes, most of my weekends are spent clad in a leather jacket and slinging a vintage purse, sitting around a table of half-drunk overpriced G&Ts with my talented friends at rooftop bars in the inner East. And what are they doing? Oh, just casually dating partners at PWC, landing jobs at national newspapers, or travelling first class cross country to attend conferences with their law firms.

Safe to say my social circle could rival Carrie, Charlotte, Miranda and Samantha’s.

And just like any self-deprecating main character I have an atrocious dating history. I once unintentionally turned an atheist physicist into a devout Presbyterian don’t ask, it’s a long story. And my most recent ex? He spent a year trying to win me over, only to leave me after another year because he “resented” my successful university career and my surprisingly good relationship with his own dad.

But, what really seals the deal on my early 2000s rom-com main character complex is that I’m a journalist. I have a lifelong dream to work in the publishing industry, and I’m self diagnosed with an incurable disorder whereby I become attached to any moody dark-haired man over 5’8” who stares in my general direction. Bonus points if he’s wearing a dishevelled white shirt, or hails from somewhere in the UK.

Blame it on Jude Law, particularly that scene in ‘The Holiday’ when he wears those ridiculous fake prescription glasses. Or Hugh Grant, standing in the doorway of his ‘Notting Hill’ bookshop stammering over his confession of love.

But, the real culprit is none other than Colin Firth, my lifelong crush. Who seems destined to play nothing but British hunks with a sour attitude, for which the only cure is falling desperately in love with an obstinate, headstrong girl. It doesn’t help that he has a penchant for starring opposite Elizabeth Bennet or likewise-coded

characters. In other words, he’s my kryptonite given that I’m a chronically overworked, hopelessly clumsy, medium-ugly girl who needs to get her nose out of a book every once in a while.

The deeper I go and draw comparisons between myself and every one of Colin Firth’s costars, it becomes increasingly clear that I am not like Renée Zellweger, Meryl Streep, Jennifer Ehle, Emma Thompson, Scarlett Johansson or any A-lister Colin has fucked onscreen.

In reality, I am Bridget Jones. Frump extraordinaire who drinks a little too much on the bad days, and a little too much on the good days as well (balance, right?). À la the physicist and the manchild, I have the dating horror stories to match. And, just like the Londoner who became famous for flashing her knickers during a live TV broadcast, I have had my fair share of journo mishaps too.

Perhaps, however, the defining feature of my Bridget Jonesness is my unexpected sex appeal that reveals itself only after I’ve managed to act a fool in front of the hottest man in the room. Apparently, my pathetic nature only highlights my pussy’s magical aura.

Like the time I got blackout drunk at a Christmas party with a stranger, and woke up hungover in his childhood bedroom in a country town, only to have some pretty banging sex. Or the time I gave a guy and I quote “the best blowjob of his life”… in the Chadstone car park.

The point is, despite all the hilarity, embarrassment and frumpiness, I’ve come to embrace my existence as a byproduct of being raised on 2000s rom-coms.

I will happily sip G&Ts, listen to my friends’ workplace stories, and enjoy the memories of being messy in my 20s.

And I will always have a soft spot in my heart for brunette Englishmen, especially those with a brooding attitude to rival Colin Firth’s for a place in my heart… and my bed.

SWITCHING IT UP

Words by Jo @oseka777

Conventionally, gender roles have shaped the way people have sex. From a young age, I was exposed to it through the media’s heteronormative depictions of men dominating women in the bedroom. So as a young woman, sex just seemed like something that would happen to me kind of like a rite of passage into adulthood that I wouldn’t have any control over. From my limited understanding at the time, one person would have to be in charge, whilst the other person had to lie there in suspense and take it.

The images of sex that I was exposed to embody a significant power imbalance, and the reality of female pleasure was not something I was educated on. Plus, the messages in the media and societal beliefs stated that a sex positive man was normal; it was fine for men to talk about sex openly. On the other hand, a sex positive woman was unladylike, a slut, a whore; but if she refused to engage in sex she was a prude, and downright unfuckable. The older I got, I couldn’t help but wonder, ‘is there a way to redefine the roles we take on during sex?’

A turning point was when I learned these three terms.

TOP:

A person who ‘takes the lead’ or is dominant in a sexual dynamic. This can also refer to a ‘giving’ partner in a relationship; the sexual act is being done by them to another.

BOTTOM:

A person that prefers to take a more submissive role in a sexual dynamic. A popular term that is coined for this is being a ‘pillow princess’ reinforcing the idea that being submissive is essentially feminine or associated with princesses. This is typically referring to a partner who is ‘receiving’; having the sexual act done to them by another.

SWITCH:

Someone who enjoys being both dominant and submissive, and is happy to explore being both. This can refer to both positionally, or in terms of receiving and giving sex acts.

The terminology of being a top, bottom or switch has origins in the Bondage Discipline/Dominance, Submission and Masochism (BDSM) community. The LGBTQIA+ community has its own interpretations and understandings of these roles, oftentimes with more fluidity and open mindedness than heterosexual people. These words have allowed us as a society to adopt a more nuanced understanding about sex outside of conventional gender stereotypes and binaries. Now that we are more exposed to inclusive depictions of sex in the media, including LGBTQIA+ representations, many people now see sexual dynamics as indeed dynamic ‘normal’ looks different for everyone.

The idea of being a ‘switch’ was fascinating to me; I saw it as a way to be more fluid in my sexuality and to feel empowered to explore it freely with someone. Sexual preferences vary, and people should be free to be themselves during sex; whatever that looks like. The pressure to carry out a gendered role can be restrictive and harmful.

So, with consent and proper communication, explore whatever feels good for you. There shouldn’t be any expectation for your gender identity to determine how you should ‘act’ during sex.

I truly believe that pleasure should be a priority for all parties involved, whether it’s during a one-night stand, a friends-with-benefits situation, or in a serious relationship. It can be fun to be the one in control, or the one being submissive, or even alternating between both. Sex doesn’t have to feel like a performance, so don’t feel scared to express your needs to whoever you’re having sex with. Trust me, the more open you are, the more fulfilling your sex life will be.

UNCOVERING MY VERSION OF MODESTY

Words by Andie Perez @andieperez__

Sexual modesty is interpreted in many ways, informed by one’s own individual experiences. A sociological definition of sexual modesty is the social, cultural, interpersonal, and psychological systems that monitor sexual expression; what is acceptable/not acceptable, private/ public, and personal/social. Adhering to sex norms can uphold cultural beliefs and group stability, although in extreme instances, this can do more harm than good. This can result in gender oppression, internalised shame and the limitation of sexual education and rights predominantly in developing nations.

I’ve realised that my experience has been relatively mild in comparison to those of others. Nevertheless, I do remember what it was like to have a distorted interpretation of sexual modesty, of that stifling weight of guilt and shame, especially within the walls of a Catholic girls’ school.

In Year 9, each of the six homerooms had to deliberate on a topic for our homeroom lessons. The year level coordinator would read them out and choose one in assembly. I suggested that we could learn about birth control and contraception as I rightfully wanted an education on the importance of sexual health. My classmates were interested as well, and my suggestion acquired the most votes in our homeroom. Excited and empowered, we were finally going to learn about something that everyone would consider at least once in their lives.

I was wrong. The year level coordinator read my suggestion in front of the whole year level and laughed uncomfortably.

“Sexual contraception? We’re definitely not going to go ahead with this one.”

I looked around at my classmates, overhearing two girls from another class chip in:

“That’s so weird. Why would anyone suggest that?”

Weird. Weird. Weird… How could I stupidly ask such a thing? Of course, the school would never consider sex education. I had forgotten the Catholic tenet of abstinence before marriage in order to pursue a topic that I was simply just interested in. With my confidence stripped away, I thought everyone now saw me as starry-eyed and perverse.

Years later, I’m fucking glad to say I purged that distorted perspective of myself. I’m fond of the audacity that fourteen-year-old me had. I had a right to be curious about sexual well-being, acting as an advocate for those who couldn’t ask such a thing back then. I no longer think that I was a weird person that was ordinary from time to time, but an ordinary person that was weird from time to time. That innate curiosity and openness is still a big part of who I am today.

I’ve interpreted modesty in my way. My view on sexuality is healthy and moderate, as I’m not necessarily uncomfortable talking about sex, but prefer to limit the degree of personal information I share with others. While I admire those who are sex-positive, I also respect those who choose to be celibate. Having one special romantic partner is more appealing to me than polyamory. I’ll most definitely be reading a steamy romance novel once in a while, but swing parties are totally out of my comfort zone. The most skin I’ll reveal is probably a bodycon dress at the club, but you won’t catch me wearing those festival duct tape outfits. (I’m impressed, but don’t you guys get cold?)

All those years ago, I was angsty towards my school for asserting traditional views, because I hated feeling ashamed. Ironically, my time at a religious girls school may have subconsciously informed how I think, act and dress to this day. But that’s okay! I’m proud to say I now, scarcely, face those stigma-imposed feelings. If they do come, the waves of emotions are not as intense. Overall, there’s still so much for me to learn and discover about sex. But for now, I’m satisfied.

AWAKENING

‘Awakening’ is a story of love. Sapphic love. A love that many women and others experience, yet it has been shrouded in shame, exploited in perverse ways, and become subject to the systems of patriarchy.

Sapphic refers to the relationships of women, or effeminate relationships more broadly.

As the etymology would suggest, the word originates from Sappho, the mystic Greek poet who hailed from the island of Lesbos. More recently, it elicits visions of Botticelli’s ‘The Birth of Venus’ and Sylvia Plath’s ‘Ariel’.

Sapphic love can be gentle, quiet, soft, an abnegation of traditional masculine qualities. But sapphic love can also burn fiery with passion; a storm of female rage at millennia of repression, volcanic love to push the boundaries placed on women.

Produced, modelled, and styled by a group of young diverse people of gender, race, and sexuality Esperanto Magazine and MONSU Womens collaborate to create a photoshoot that reflects the depth and nuance that is a modern sapphic love story, styled in the form of a Victorian Gothic tragedy.

Subverting the idea that sapphic love must be hidden behind closed doors, and acknowledging the beauty of “awakening” to discover a love for womanhood, we took a series of photos that portrayed the beauty of sapphic love.

‘Awakening’ is beyond stereotypes. It depicts sapphic love as an experience that embraces femininity; a celebration of women through physical, emotional, and spiritual attraction and intimacy. Sapphic love has taken the broken pieces of womanhood and uplifted them to be something revered. To quote the famous lesbian poet Carol Ann Duffy: “Time hates love, wants love poor/but love spins gold, gold, gold from straw.”

Produced by Caitlin Cefai & Fae Gehren

Awakening is a collaboration between Esperanto and MONSU Womens.

Jewellery made by Natalie Song @nataliesxng

Photography, Styling and Modelling by Jackie Zhou @cowboydepopp, Ilanda Tran @ilanda.t, Lola Churchill @lolanotchill, Jacquelyn Affidon @jmaffidon, Natalie Song @nataliesxng, Joanna Samson

PILLOW PRINCESSES: REIGN ON

Words by Angel Tully @angel.tully Artwork by Ilanda Tran @ilanda.t

“Lay back and think of England.”

That was the phrase my English teacher once described the act of sex in the ‘olden days’ as, something that mothers would tell their daughters to just endure for the sake of reproduction she was British.

Her comment always stuck with me, mostly for its comedic value in 21st century Australia, but also because it just goes to show how far we’ve come to publicly recognise female sexuality even in the most private settings.

Female sexuality is accepted so much so that popular culture has affectionately named the former lay-back-and-think-of-England position as a “Pillow Princess”. Whilst the term has some negative connotations about women who prefer the nonreciprocal style of love-making, it is still a step up from sacrificing our cooch for our country a win for feminism!!

So what does it really mean to be a pillow princess? To me, it means two things.

It means that we finally live in a world where the female body can be pleasured and worshipped with no expectation of providing something in return. It means that the classic missionary position can celebrate women as royalty, however spoilt, rather than as victims of marital obligation.

It also means I get to lay back and enjoy myself without lifting a finger, pun intended, whilst my boyfriend does all the hard work. Honestly I feel a tiny bit bad for the knights in shining armour who have to carry their starfish lovers to the finish line with absolutely no support. But at the end of the day, we still both get our cake (and eat it too ;) ), so who has time to worry about the details, right girlies?

Don’t get me wrong, a couple of crazy acrobatic positions to shake things up sometimes are so fun, but alas I am also a creature of habit. And laying myself down to do the bare minimum is where I truly thrive a pillow professional, if you will.

You see, my weakness is a good old guy in charge… in the bedroom. A bit anti-feminist of me I suppose. Thus, I justify my shortcoming to myself by sitting back to reap the fruits of a man’s sexual labour and contributing literally nothing but a cute face, the true glory of an individual as privileged as a pillow princess.

For all you queens out there straddling your high horses, we see you. Dare I say we pillow princesses aspire to ascend from the comfort of our bedsheets and reign at your level one day too. But until then, I’ll continue to lay back and get the royal treatment I deserve, in the name of female sexual liberation everywhere, from the comforts of my memory foam, silk-covered pillow.

VISITING THE PHARMACIST

Words by Shabnam Sidhu @sidhushabnam_ Artwork by Ava Toon @avalouuise

He was hot, but he called me Sabrina and gave me a yeast infection…

Not only was my ego bruised, but a week later I was rudely interrupted by sudden twinges in my vagina. Each physical pang felt increasingly unbearable as I gaslit myself into thinking my pain stemmed from my other mundane worries, but not for a moment did I contemplate why those worries would manifest as burning in my vagina. I was convinced that my vaginal spasms were part of my daily series of hallucinations and that a quiet, afternoon nap would cure me of my delusions.

To restore peace, I hastily reached for my compact mirror, spread my legs, and flashed it at my vagina. To my horror, it was filled with chunks of cottage cheese-like discharge. I felt distraught. The appearance of my vagina distinctly resembled a Lovecraftian nightmare.

Having experienced my fair share of UTIs in the past, the feeling felt familiar. As opposed to thinking I had contracted the worst, a single Google search describing the ‘white, itchy discharge’ I was experiencing within my fragile, inner ecosystem confirmed the obvious. I had thrush, otherwise known as a yeast infection.

Pharmacist: You reckon you’ve got THRUSH? Is it itchy, cottage-cheese discharge?

Upon loudly exposing my condition, I was left stranded at the front of a very long line of people whilst the pharmacist sifted through boxes of prescribed medications in the back.

My thoughts began to spiral.

‘Everyone gets a yeast infection once in a while, right?’

‘I’m sure it’s not always from sex but do the people behind me know that?’

‘Am I being slut-shamed right now?’

‘Wait, am I slut-shaming myself?’

‘Do men get yeast infections?’

‘Did I remember to pee after sex?

Pharmacist: Have you taken this before? Do you know how to use it?

Me: Yes, no wait, no, but I’m sure I can figure it out.

Pharmacist: So, you take the syringe, there’s six of them, one for each day, and fill it up with the cream.

Me: I think I can read the rest of the instructions.

Pharmacist: You need to get on your back and bring your knees to your chest. Position the syringe at the opening of your vagina. In fact, you can even push it in a little, just to make sure it all gets in there, you know?

Me: I really need to leave, could I just pay for this?

Pharmacist: Remember to push it all the way in. It might feel a little cold and it might drip out a little but that’s very normal.

Me *glaring at this point*: Thank you so much for your help! Have a good day!

Pharmacist *shouting as I walked away*: Oh, and if it doesn’t go away, do get tested. It might be chlamydia.

I rushed to leave the pharmacy as a sea of eyes gawked at me.

‘Do they not know that it’s not contagious?’

My very private condition had become so alarmingly public in the most embarrassing way possible. It felt infuriating, yet I couldn’t help but think how comical the whole ordeal was. This all occurred because I was horny and sought casual sex in the most accessible way possible, through Tinder. Not only did this horny spell end up being costly but it was also, very awkwardly, a case of mistaken identity.

Was the whole ordeal a distressing experience? Yes.

Do I regret it? No.

If anything, the self-consciousness I experienced felt valiant. Despite facing immense physical discomfort, I prevailed in sourcing a cure for my condition.

And just like most things, my self-consciousness stemmed from how I felt about myself as opposed to what others thought about me. As I reflect on it now, having my yeast infection addressed so publicly felt liberating. I did not have to hide that I was indeed having a terrible day.

What everyone else thought about me if they even cared to pay attention, meant little to nothing as I no longer had anything to hide.

As I walked home, all I could think about was taking a well-deserved afternoon nap, that is, after I apply my thrush cream as per the pharmacist’s instructions.

LETS TALK ABOUT (BIOLOGICAL) SEX, BABY

Words and Photography by Jackie Zhou @cowboydepopp

I was born a little girl. My sex in my passport is labelled Female. I was raised as my mother’s daughter, and brought up in the world under the watchful and omnipresent male gaze.

Now I’m comfortable in my trans-masculinity, my non-binary identity, my way of existing that is outside of everything I previously knew about myself. So why the fuck am I so uncomfortable with my presentation as a sexual being?

Somehow, during the motions of sex, it’s not uncommon for my body to feel undesirable, my drive unquenchable, and my ego far removed. Despite willingly and acquiescently surrendering myself to my gender identity, being seen as a sexual person feels wrong and contradicting. In fact, I realised that being comfortable with my sexuality, when I’ve been raised to perform a very specific way my entire life, has been something I’ve been internally battling for a long time, and I still am. It’s something I fear I will endure for the rest of my life.

Gender dysphoria is not an uncommon term in this age, but I find it difficult to assign the feelings I have towards my body as dysphoric. My body has always felt like it belonged to me, since the beginning, and I never subscribed to the ideal of femininity. It wasn’t until I became fully engrossed in my non-binary identity when I began to feel a disconnect between my body and my brain.

Am I supposed to perform in a way that leans masculine? Feminine? Does it even matter? What feels good to me? I’m not sure. I should be sure though because I’m literally having sex right now and I don’t know what I’m fucking doing. Oh my God.

Physical intimacy has always been difficult for me as someone who has shied away from others my whole life, and so having my body be seen and desired is an incredibly difficult, heavily internalised issue. My flesh is apparently feminine, so I should behave in that way. But being non-binary, feeling sexy in femininity feels like I’m invalidating myself.

It wasn’t until recently when I realised that it shouldn’t.

Believing that I have to present and conform to the expectations of the male sex is still reaffirming the gender binary, the patriarchy, and everything that made my relationship with gender so toxic and repressive in the first place. Just because I’m assigned female at birth does not mean that I’m any less non-binary when I dress effeminate, enjoy my feminine features, or feel affirmed in my sexuality and my body. My spindly arms, delicate collarbone and softer edges don’t make my gender identity any less authentic, and the way I perform and present shouldn’t determine the validity of who I am as a person.

Sex is still a very scary and new concept to me, and maybe it always will be. As my relationship with myself and my body changes and fluctuates, so too will my love and hatred for sex.

Nevertheless, I can’t wait to go on this journey and explore myself in ways only I can.

Photography & Styling By Alleisha Pereira-Stephens @alleisha.stephens

CAN’T U N ’NACTIEES T TIEESNU C A N ’TUNSEE IT

Words and Illustration by Maddison Marshall @madagasc.art

IN THE ABSENCE OF SEX

I never had the lightbulb moment where I realized I was asexual. It was more like a slow, creeping dread that whispered “something’s not quite right with you…” It ticked away ominously in my head, as years passed and my romantic interest in boys remained alarmingly low. A gut feeling that maybe I’d never experience those “raging hormones” everyone warned me of in my teens. Asexuality (or ace for short) is an umbrella term for people who experience little to no sexual attraction. It can go hand in hand with being aromantic, where you feel little to no romantic attraction. But this negative language around a lack of attraction, of something being missing, can be hard to reckon with in yourself. How do you know you’re missing something when you never had it in the first place?

In my experience, I knew I had an aversion to sex because it was, quite literally, everywhere. With pop-culture, advertising, politics, language and social conditioning being saturated with sexual content, I couldn’t ignore that something in my brain didn’t click with it all. What I found more confusing was the fact that I still experienced romantic attraction. It still wasn’t as much as my peers, but it was there, and I couldn’t understand why it never escalated into sexual attraction. The infatuation I experienced with my first crush was an amazing feeling, and I was relieved that I finally felt this way about a boy. But still, there was no sexual attraction, and that was scary.

Identifying as ace isn’t just about accepting that you don’t experience sexual attraction; asexuality is a large spectrum with many grey areas. So, you are constantly dealing with a brand new can of worms just when you thought you were done with the last one. For me, the biggest question was ‘would anyone actually want to be in a relationship with me if it meant never having sex?’ And my answer to that question was always a cynical ‘no’. In a society that puts sex on a pedestal as the be-all and end-all of intimacy and love, why would anyone agree to a relationship without sex, or with someone who’ll never desire them in that way?

It doesn’t end there. Asexuality can raise all kinds of other questions, like whether you want kids if it means you need sex to get pregnant, or whether you should feel romantically attracted to all genders since genitalia isn’t technically relevant to you. It gives you social anxieties you didn’t expect, like whether people would feel pity for your partner if they knew you were ace and assumed you never have sex, or if other people in the LGBTIQA+ community will think you’re not ‘queer enough’. Coming to terms with your asexuality can be a long process, I might have to reckon with it for the rest of my life.

I don’t know if I’ll always identify as asexual, or how it will grow with me. But what I do know for sure is that you don’t need sex in order to experience intimacy; this is something everyone can have, regardless of sexuality. Sex and romance is fun and exciting, but it isn’t the ultimate almighty pinnacle of human connection, and you certainly aren’t broken if you never experience it or don’t want to. I know this because of the shared language I have with my sibling, the safety of my mum’s shoulder, the way I feel so seen by my best friend, the pure joy in the family dog’s eyes when she sees me come home, the tears of laughter I’ve shed with my uni friends, the sweet affection I’ve received in my new relationship that I never thought I’d find. All of this has made me feel more loved and whole than sex ever could.

MINDFULLY EXPERIENCING OR UNCONSCIOUSLY PERFORMING?

Words by Elodie Ricaud @_elodiericaud_

The pursuit of authenticity during young adulthood can only be undone through a gradual process that requires us to turn inwards and evaluate our lives through a different lens. In our sex lives, this includes discovering our innate sexual desires and challenging the internal and external factors that colour our experiences. I have recently been questioning the way we are socially conditioned to operate within the constraints of gender norms and how that influences our ability to be mindful during sex.

Often, we get hung up on superfluous ideals of sexual desirability and what intercourse is “supposed” to look and feel like. This can lead to deceptive and performative experiences that subdue our authenticity. Studies have found that conforming to gender norms can rob us of our sexual autonomy, which ultimately diminishes sexual satisfaction1. Maybe we should turn inwards first, to our imagination and senses, or explore unconventional sexual models.

So, I pose the question, if it weren’t for gender norms what would sex really look like?

If we examine our conditioning from a young age, we remember being bombarded with representations of sexual desirability from the mass media that fall into two categories feminine and masculine. A common theme in all these representations remains, the male gaze. This was a term coined by Laura Mulvey in 1975, and referred to a new way of describing how women are constantly exhibited, and thus perceived, as objects of male sexual desire. While it was specifically used within visual arts, it has since become a fundamental part of Feminist Theory to describe the gender power relations that are found within sexual and romantic relationships. Berger’s famous quote, “Men look at women. Women watch themselves being looked at”2 accurately captures its essence.

For femme-identifying people, the persistent pressure to live up to norms of sexual desirability is worsened by the internalised male gaze. A particular scene from HBO’s ‘Euphoria’ accurately visualises this, where Maddy rigorously practices the exact movements and expressions of female actors she sees on Pornhub. She later performs these imitations during intercourse with her boyfriend Nate. In return, Nate emulates the violent, macho masculine and often sadistic representations that he witnesses in porn, which he assumes are the most accepted and desirable. It also goes to how for masculine-identifying individuals, the types of roles and traits that are represented as the norm during

sex are black and white: big ego, big cock, dominant, unfeeling. Even though male pleasure can be achieved through various explorations of erogenous zones such as stimulation of the prostate. As we know, deviating from those gendered expectations within everyday life can be met with disregard, disgust, and even violence1.

It can be uncomfortable to really see how far removed we are from what is supposed to be an enjoyable act of intimacy. However, I think this is a reality that is a consequence of growing up in a generation where a lot of people still use porn as their primary source of sex education.

The porn industry is riddled with misrepresentations that reinforce this need to perform masculine and feminine roles. At the end of the day, no matter how well actors lure the viewers into their performances, it is just that, a performance. Yet, it is that very enactment that we strive to follow. Like the actors on screen, we all often fake expressions of pleasure, feel pressured to prioritise our sexual partner’s needs over our own and assume submissiveness or dominance as our only options.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with finding satisfaction within those realms, but it can be liberating to know that there is more to experience outside of those restrictions. Luckily, there are alternatives to mainstream porn that display more ethical, gender fluid sexual interactions, focused on displaying different forms of pleasure. For example, female-focused porn site ‘Bellessa’, audio erotica app ‘Quinn’, and experimental pornography website ‘Four Chambers’

It is worthwhile to ask ourselves why we have certain desires, if they are rooted in equality and whether they leave us feeling connected to ourselves. It’s nerve racking to deviate from what we assume to be conventional ideals of sexiness, but being honest with our bodies and our sexual partners is the first step to finding more realms of pleasure. But above all else, claiming sexual autonomy can help us reframe pleasure as not something that happens to us, but something that we actively participate in. Maybe sometimes it’s better to just disconnect from all the channels that show us how to master pleasure and just experiment with our own bodies alone. If we know what brings us pleasure individually, then we can discover these experiences with others too.

There are no social limits, except for the ones that we impose on ourselves.

1 Sanchez, Diana., Crocker, Jennifer and Boike, Karlee. Doing gender in the bedroom: Investigating in Gender norms and Sexual Experience. Personality and Social Psychology Bulletin, 31:10, 1445-1455, 2005

2 Berger, John. Ways of seeing. Penguin Classics, 2008.

GETTING IN THE MOOD

Words by Sreemoyee Banerjee @thisisesbe

There have been days where I’ve felt sexy and wanted to ‘do the deed’, but not only was I painfully single, I didn’t have access to hookup sites either. For the longest time, I had no idea how to get down on myself and believed that I needed a partner to feel good. Little did I know, a single steamy night all on my lonesome would change my entire perspective I could be my own partner.

As sex coach Gigi Engle said, “your solo sessions are as, if not more, important as partnered sessions.” Getting in the mood when you’re alone not only enhances your selflove, but also makes you feel confident in your own skin. And honestly, who would know every edge of your body, and what makes you feel good, better than you?

Here are a few tips for getting spicy when you’re alone:

1 Set the scene. Get the lavender candles out. Draw those blinds closed (or apart, whichever makes you feel sexier). Dim the lights. Play your favourite playlist. The first step to getting in the mood is assuring that the space you’re in makes you feel comfortable, safe and sexy. To do this, pick out what makes you feel aroused. For example, certain smells like pumpkin, lavender, and licorice (‘Scentsational Sex’ by Dr. Alan Hirsch) heighten blood flow to the genital area. Creating the right environment sets the scene for you to get in the mood and let your brain wander off to unchartered territories.

2 — Try out toys. Sex toys are your best friends when your fingers get tired or you want to relax and let something else do the work. They might seem daunting at first, but they’re really exciting once you get to explore them and figure out which one you prefer. Vibrators are absolute classics regardless of gender, and they get you feeling tingles when you’re alone. But if you want to switch it up, try out a butt plug, a dildo, a rabbit vibrator, or even a mas -

sage wand! If you don’t want to make that investment just yet, there’s always the option of stimulating yourself by spraying your clitoris with a showerhead or rubbing yourself against something soft (like a pillow!). The only aim of the game is to make yourself feel fantastic.

3 Switch up your positions. Sure, missionary is great and you can lie down and relax while your fingers and your magic wand do the tricks. But you can definitely switch it up once in a while! If you enjoy penetration, try riding on your dildo by placing it down on the bed and lowering yourself onto it. You can even try leaning back against a wall and touching yourself anything that works for your body and makes you feel sexy is the way to go.

4 Pull that stimulating aid out. They say that the thinking mind is best controlled by the imagination. Put this to use imagine a sexual fantasy that you’ve always dreamt of, or that you’re getting spicy with someone to-die-for. This will definitely allow you to set the scene and melt into your arousal. You can even choose an external stimulating aid I’m talking porn, smut, or even steamy songs on your preferred music app. Aids allow you to get your imagination up and running, and can be amazing additions to your solo sessions.

5 — Take your time. Perhaps the most important tip of them all take your time to get in the mood. Sometimes it can take a while to understand yourself and what you like best. Exploring and discovering your likes and dislikes, and knowing how you get turned on will give way to greater self-love and confidence. You’re doing this to boost yourself, and it’s perfectly alright to listen to your heart and follow the pace it suggests, no matter how slow or fast.

POV: WALKING THROUGH THE RED LIGHT DISTRICT

You clutch your bag tighter, realising the sidewalks are beginning to crowd. Either side of the canal is neon-lit with signage worth a double take. The thick smell of marijuana constantly reminds you where you are. The terrace buildings are narrow and stories high with windows exhibiting women that glow under red light. You’re in the Red Light District.

Erotic theatres, coffee shops, peep shows, sex museums, karaoke bars, strip clubs, and even beautiful old churches it truly has it all. The Red Light District sits in the heart of Amsterdam, making it easy to stumble across for those aimlessly wandering the city. Whilst there are several districts throughout the city, the most infamous sits in the medieval neighbourhood known as De Wallen, with surrounding alleys joining in on the fun. It’s a workplace for many, a local precinct for some, and a tourist destination for others.

“I want to see one where they are actually fucking on stage,” says one Australian tourist.

“Psst cocaine, ecstasy?,” says a local drug dealer.

“Do you want to come in?” beckons a sex-worker.

The siren-like women in the windows are dressed up for their shift ahead bikinis, lingerie, leotards, straps or chains. Some dance, some just use their eyes to seduce you, others are multitasking on a phone call through their airpods. For those tempted, the etiquette for a private service is to walk up to your window of choice and discuss your options with the sex-worker before entering their space. For those into theatrics (not the West End kind) and have about 60 euro to spare, there are ample live sex shows at iconic venues like Moulin Rouge, Casa Rosso and Hospital Bar. Or perhaps a “2 euro for 2 minutes” peepshow is the extent your Euro summer budget allows you to indulge. If so, wait for a booth, insert your coin into the machine, watch the glass defrost, and voila.

Words and Photography by Sarah Louise @sarahllouise_

It's a place where voyeurism isn’t riddled with shame, quite frankly, it's encouraged. A place where you don’t feel eyes boring into you when you enter an adult store. A place where you can buy a (rather practical) souvenir from the Amsterdam Condomerie.

Perhaps most fascinatingly, the Red Light District feels completely foreign. In Amsterdam, the profession of sex work which in some areas of Australia only exists underground sits unapologetically on top of the canal water. It’s so ‘in your face’ that you start having different types of conversations with the people around you. What etiquette is assumed of customers? What type of business model is used for prostitution? How much should people be paying for that service? In Australia, these types of conversations often fall into the ‘out of sight, out of mind’ category. But, when a neon sign of tits shines proudly in your face, it’s easier to just talk about it.

In saying that, the Red Light District doesn’t go without controversy, and us tourists probably don’t understand half of it. There’s signage around the neighbourhood prohibiting littering, public drunkenness and taking photos of the sex-workers, all things that I’m afraid to report did occur. Due to these problems, along with mass tourism, and fears of crime in the industry, the city council recently proposed to relocate the district to a potentially tamer and safer area. I saw posters blue-tacked to the glowing red windows protesting this proposal. I don’t believe there’s any straight forward answer to dealing with such a historical institution. Livelihoods depend on it, so change isn’t going to come without tension.

My hope is that those who visit the Red Light District take these conversations home with them. I hope that sex work in Australia is talked about seriously, and not just when bucks and hens parties fill the social calendar. I hope that the Red Light District evolves as society does, whatever that looks like.

CONTRACEPTION RECEPTION

Words by Akira Kerr @akira.kerr

Note: Everyone’s experience of contraception, and choice of method, is individual. This article is solely informative, and not designed to provide medical advice. Always consult your GP before beginning or changing any form of contraception, and use what works best for you.

Whether it’s the pill, the rod, condoms or pulling out, many of us have tried a contraceptive for one reason or another. Maybe when you were 14-years-old, you were put on Estelle for your pesky hormonal acne and now you’re glowing like the goddess you are! Maybe you hated the rigid structure your life took on when you were on the pill, setting an alarm for 11am everyday for the foreseeable future just to make sure you didn’t forget to take it. So you got an IUD put in instead. Maybe your periods were so unbearably painful that the only thing you could do was try to stop them altogether with the rod. It could also be so that you don’t end up with an unplanned pregnancy or STI. There’s so much trial and error, ups and downs, and prioritising the side effects we can deal with and the ones we can’t. It can be scary hormones leaking into our bodies without really knowing what they could do, or having a foreign object inside of us that could be rejected at any moment. But today, we are starting to see sexual health becoming a topic of discussion that doesn’t hide in the shadows. Maybe we start talking about which contraceptive we are on, just like the way we discuss our star signs.

The Rod (Contraceptive Implant)

The rod, which in Australia is the Implanon NXT, is a hormonal contraception that comes in the form of a small plastic stick. The rod is implanted just under the skin of the inner upper arm and slowly releases a hormone called progestogen into the body. This hormone prevents the ovaries from releasing an egg every month and thickens the fluid around the cervix, preventing the sperm from reaching the egg. The rod is replaced after at least 3 years. It’s more than 99% effective in preventing pregnancy.

“I enjoyed not having to worry about taking a tablet at the same time everyday and not stressing over if I missed taking a pill. Once the rod was in I didn’t really have to think about it until years later when it needed to get replaced.”

“For the first few months I was like an emotional tornado. All of my emotions were so extreme. If I was happy I was overjoyed, if I was sad I was depressed, if I was upset I was angry and mad. There was no in-between. My emotional shifts became too much.”

“Something that I like about this contraceptive, at least for me, is that I don’t have periods anymore, which at first was concerning. I was like, is this supposed to happen? So I feel like I’m pretty lucky in not having periods anymore. I have to say, it’s pretty amazing.”

“The rod made me unbelievably sad all the time. I think there was a period where I would cry multiple times a day, everyday, for like over 2 weeks. Once I figured out what was causing it, I knew I needed to get it the fuck out.”

IUD (Intrauterine Devices)

The IUD is a small T-shaped device that is inserted into the uterus to prevent pregnancy. There are two types of IUDs you can get in Australia the non-hormonal copper IUD or the hormonal IUD (Mirena, or its lower dose counterpart, Kyleena). The copper can stay in for up to 10 years, while the hormonal up to 5 years. The non-hormonal IUD works by constantly releasing small amounts of copper into the womb. The hormonal IUD releases progestogen into the uterus. Both types are more than 99% effective in preventing pregnancy.

“This was my last option. I’ve tried them all and I have to be on some sort of hormonal contraceptive because I have adenomyosis. It has had such an effect on my hormones but it has also stopped me from having periods where I would bleed for 3 months straight or just non-stop spotting.”

“The thought of having a little metal T shoved inside me made me sick, but it sounded like a better option than the cramps and low mood that I had been dealing with.”

The Rhythm Method and Pulling Out

For people who ovulate, the rhythm method involves tracking their cycle from the previous month and predicting future ovulation dates. Ovulation is the highly fertile stage during a menstrual cycle, as eggs are released from the ovaries. So, for those following this method, they avoid having sex to lower the chances of getting pregnant. If tracked correctly, sex that won’t result in pregnancy can be practised by avoiding penetrative vaginal sex during ovulation, but everyone's cycle is different and there are still windows of time before and after ovulation where people can conceive. As such, the rhythm method is one of the least effective forms of contraception in terms of preventing pregnancy.

The pullout method is another means of self-managing contraception. It means withdrawing the penis right before ejaculation so that little to no semen enters the vagina. The pull out method is theoretically 96% effective, however, in reality this is almost impossible to perform consistently, and ignores the existence of pre-cum that can enter the vagina before pulling out. Consequently, the pull out method is not widely recommended.

“I had a really rough experience on the rod and the pill, so I felt like I needed a break from internal contraceptives altogether. Being in a long-term relationship, I didn’t use condoms because he didn’t like how they felt I know, what a classic but I also really didn’t like the idea of having a piece of plastic flopping around inside me. I’ll be honest, he is a master at pulling out.”

Condoms

Condoms and internal condoms are the only forms of contraceptives that can reliably prevent contracting an STI. Condoms are a strong rubber pouch that are put on an erect penis (or sex toy) prior to sex. Condoms work by providing a barrier against STIs and preventing ejaculation entering the vagina to avoid pregnancy. Condoms are 98% effective in preventing pregnancy. Don’t be a goose, and use an in date condom that has been kept in a dry cool place.

“My experience with using condoms has been pretty good my partner has been very accepting, I don’t have to take pills every morning, I don’t feel bloated, and I don’t feel any mental anguish, so it’s definitely been a positive.”

“My most memorable experience with condoms is honestly when the condom breaks and you have to stop. It’s that fear of ‘when did it break? Did it happen before you finished or after you finished?’ and then having to go to the chemist and get the morning after pill.”

The Combined Pill (Oral Hormonal Contraceptive)

The combined pill, better known colloquially as ‘the pill’ is an oral hormonal contraceptive that contains the hormones oestrogen and progestogen. The pill is taken daily, ideally around the same time everyday, and is 99% effective at preventing pregnancy if taken correctly. Otherwise, allowing for missed pills, it is 93% effective. The pill works by stopping the ovaries from releasing an egg each month, and like the rod, thickens the fluid in the cervix to prevent sperm from reaching the egg. When the sugar pills are taken in the 28 day pack, a period will usually be induced. Otherwise, a period can be skipped by not taking these pills.

“It’s been a very seamless experience for me and I honestly don’t think anything memorable has happened. It integrated into my life really well. So I think I’m really lucky that I don’t have a memorable experience with contraception.”

“I had to switch between 5 different pills because of how they affected me. For example, one pill made me faint every time I had my period. And for another, my period did not stop once I started it. The one I am on now I pay $90 every 3 months just to have it.”

“For the first few days it was fine, but after a few weeks I started to feel side effects in my body and in my mood. I would get headaches and chest pain, although the chest pain didn’t happen that often. One thing I really hated about it was the constant anxiousness I would feel.”

“The only thing I can think of is that maybe it has made me more emotional. But I’ve been on it for so long I don’t even know if that’s a side effect or just me.”

Mini Pill (Progestogen-Only Oral Contraceptive)

The progestogen only pill is different from ‘the pill’ because it doesn’t contain oestrogen. Because of this, users don’t have control of when their period comes. It also should not be taken over 3 hours late. The mini pill works by thickening the fluid in the cervix to stop sperm from entering and reaching the egg. There is also another type of progestogen only pill called the drospirenone progestogen only pill, which stops the

ovaries from releasing an egg, and can still be effective if taken up to 24 hours late. Like ‘the pill’, the progestogen only pill is 99% effective if taken consistently and correctly in preventing pregnancy.

“So I was on the rod and I’m taking the minipill [to stop my constant period] and after a while I noticed that I started lactating. And I find that crazy. Just thinking about how many hormones were already in my body, and I just put more in there, and my body was just like “oh ok I guess we have a baby now?”. Yeah it stopped my period, but at what cost?”

Some things to think about on your contraception journey!

“Take your time and don’t be afraid to ask the professionals every single question that pops into your head.”

“It probably sounds silly but I would suggest knowing your body well beforehand, as it would be a lot easier to understand the side effects because each person is different.”

“Listen to your doctor, I feel like there’s a lot of people who are sharing their own experience, and kind of forcing it on other people. But I think it’s very unique to each person. Listen to your body and trust yourself, if it’s not working, there’s so many other avenues you can explore.”

“If I could say anything to all young women, if you don’t have to go on hormonal contraception, don’t. I feel like we need to know more about what we put into our bodies and what hormones are doing. It really does mess with every aspect of your life, and it’s crazy that that’s not discussed enough.”

NETFLIX AND CHILL: A GUIDE FOR A ROMANTIC (OR RAUNCHY) MOVIE NIGHT

Words by Alleisha Pereira-Stephens @alleisha.stephens

Sexy movies come in all forms from tender love stories that make your heart race, to daring and provocative tales that push boundaries. This guide is not here to revolutionise your sex life, but it may help spark your sensuality. Whether you're planning a romantic evening with your partner, or simply looking to enjoy some alone time, remember to dim the lights, and just… chill.

‘Call Me By Your Name’, 2017

Genre: Drama, Romance

Watch: Stan, Binge

Steamy Rating: 4/5 peaches filled with cum

This film has a cult following for a reason; it’s the gay love story of your dreams.

‘Call Me By Your Name’ delivers a captivating and undeniably erotic narrative, while simultaneously encouraging you to confront your inhibitions and embrace the delicate complexities of self-expression and sexual identity.

From passionate make-outs in Italian fields to intimate moments with fruit, this is a movie that you and your partner could both enjoy sensually, and resonate with emotionally, long after the credits roll.

‘Runaways’, 2010

Genre: Biography, Drama

Watch: Amazon Prime

Steamy Rating: 3.5/5 bad wigs on Kristen Stewart

Calling all the baby lesbians and bisexuals. This one’s for you.

While it’s hard to believe a biopic could be the spark for a sexual awakening, with a cast of Kristen Stewart and Dakota Fanning, the sexual tension is palpable.

Following the story of Joan Jett and Cherie Currie and their journey to becoming the front women for the band Runaways, this 105 minute movie is perfect if you enjoy being edged.

Amidst the hazy red lighting and intense music, the offstage passion between Jett and Currie is something that will leave your heart beating in more places than one.

‘The To Do List’, 2013

Genre: Comedy, Romance

Watch: Stan

Steamy Rating: 3/5 disappointing finger bangs

‘The To Do List’ stands out as a delightful choice for a relaxed date night or a solitary indulgence, perfectly setting a playful ambiance adaptable to any mood. Bursting with comedic absurdity, the movie centres around Brandy, who acknowledges her uncharted sexual territory, and combats it with a curated pre-college checklist.

Occasionally, a cinematic evening yearns for a movie that embraces the candid awkwardness of sexual exploration. In those moments, it’s vital to recognise that embracing some fumbles is essential to get in the mood for intimacy. ‘The To Do List’ captures the hilariously awkward essence of exploring one’s desires, reminding us that our sexual journeys are often as amusing as they are illuminating.

‘Jennifer’s Body’, 2009

Genre: Comedy, Horror

Watch: Disney+

Steamy Rating: 2.5/5 tongues burned with cigarette lighters

Amanda Seyfried?

In bed with Megan Fox?

You’ve sold me.

While the sex scenes in this movie are a little underwhelming, the deep connection shared between childhood friends is so tense that it can easily spark a cheeky sesh. As they say, sandbox love never dies. Or does it?

against my insecurities.

body isn’t to serve as an image for others to validate; it’s a vessel for my being, and my vitality. These photos are my rebellion

nent. How could anyone find my body sexy when it looked the way it did? However, I came to realise that the purpose of my

my pectus excavatum, but it soon became clear that without unaffordable surgical intervention, the deformity would be perma -

I understood from a young age that –unlike my peers –my chest was shallow and sunken. I tried method after method to correct

Words by Tom Meissner @thomas.msn05

Photography by Tom Meissner & Marina Srivilai

These photos are my

UNBOUND LOVE

I never knew what “right” felt like until now.

I felt trapped in every relationship I have been in. Like I was losing myself bit by bit. That is not a testament to the people I dated (well… maybe sometimes), but to the type of relationship I was in. For years polyamory has been ticking away in the back of my mind, because something about monogamy always felt wrong. Honestly, I felt like something was wrong with me.

Finally, four months ago, I met a poly person for the first time. They sparked a light in my life I never believed possible. Suddenly, it felt like wings had been buckled to my back and I was ready to take the chance. Free fall into it. I’m so glad I did.

That person is now my girlfriend. And they have a Partner. We’re also seeing another wonderful, powerful woman. Together, and separately.

I am embarking on a new connection with another incredible woman I’ve been crushing on for almost a year. I feel as though the world is at my fingertips. I am finally getting to know the real me the person I always was deep down. The person buried beneath the shame, pressure and confusion of a world that denied the way they were meant to love.

So, what is Polyamory?

I am polyamorous.

Cue the blank stares.

“But how does that work?”

“So like orgies and stuff?”

“I could never do that.”

It all means the same thing. They don’t understand. Not really. Because it’s not seen or heard about. And when it is, it's often surrounded by stigma and shame.

SO LET’S DEBUNK SOME COMMON MYTHS:

“Is polyamory the same as polygamy?”

Polygamy refers to group marriages, usually one man with multiple wives. Polyamory is the practice of having multiple partners. Originally this was thought to refer to only romantic partners. But, many people choose to include creative, platonic or other types of partnerships in how they identify as poly.

Words by Fae Gehren @faerietale99

Artwork by Ilanda Tran @ilanda.t Interviewee: Leeav (they/them) @leeavly

There are also different types of polyamory and different ways of practising it. This includes solo polyamory, hierarchical or non-hierarchical, and many more. It is also different from an open relationship, which typically involves multiple sexual partners but remaining emotionally committed to only one person. Scan the QR code for a glossary of poly terms.

“Polyamory is abnormal.”

Polyamory is not presented as the norm. However, that does not mean it is abnormal, or against human nature. Rebecca Decynzski’s 2021 article, ‘A Brief History of Non-monogamy’, explains that this relationship style “dates all the way back to B.C.E. times”. However, our modern understanding of polyamory emerged from the Free Love Movement in the 1960s and ’70s.

From my experience, despite its lack of representation in mainstream society, the poly community is much bigger than you might think. Once you open yourself up to conversations about it, you end up meeting more and more like-minded people whether they are practising, considering, or simply curious about polyamory.

“Polyamory is just about sex.”

This is, once again, absolutely not true. Polyamory is about so much more than sex. It can even be an avenue for asexual or aromantic identifying individuals to find a different type of connection that works for them, without sex or traditional romance.

Even though poly is about more than just sex, I want to stress that: sex being an important factor in relationships is not bad or shameful.

Poly presents ample opportunities to explore and seek pleasure, whilst simultaneously prioritising open communication and practising safe sex.

Take Leeav, for example. They are a Queer, Nonbinary, multimedia artist, who has been poly for over a year now. For them, polyamory has created a space for exploring different kinds of sex. They have discovered a deeper understanding of sex and intimacy as “mutually exclusive [and sometimes overlapping] entities.”

“I think what I have already experienced as an Enby [in polyamory] is opening myself up to different forms of intimacy.”

“Poly = group sex.”

Not everyone who practises polyamory likes or engages in group sex. Yes, some of us do, because it gives us opportunities to share intimacy and connection with more people. Not to mention, we get the rare chance to discover new pleasures and different ways of having sex that don’t necessarily include the typical ‘penis in vagina’ action. This can be especially liberating for gender diverse or LGBTIQA+ individuals.

“Polyamory is a fun, easy way to avoid commitment.” Polyamory is by no means easy.

As Leeav puts it, “you’re giving yourself to many people rather than one in a standard monogamous way.”

“It can be fun and easy and cool. It can also be a lot of hard work…You need to be very self-aware. You need to be willing to have many difficult conversations with yourself and with your partner or partners…”

“You need to be in a place in your life where you’re able to deal with emotions such as jealousy, vulnerability, pain, and loneliness. I think people don’t understand that polyamory is actually quite lonely.”

So what can polyamory be?

It can be a way to explore your sexuality, or something to research and discuss but never try. It can be something to dabble in and never return to, whilst still taking away some new communication skills. It can be a way to face the deepest parts of yourself and learn from them. It might even be the only way love can feel right for you like it is for me.

Really, poly can be whatever you want it to be. As long as you communicate openly and treat your partners with respect.

That’s the beauty of it it’s a free fall into unbound love. Use the QR code to explore my sources and other interesting resources to check out.

Note: This is based on the writer’s personal research and poly journey.

PLAYTHEY

When asked to explore the world of ‘Playboy’ and what it represents, so many different ways of examining the debauchery, sex appeal, and objectification came to mind.

For ‘PlayThey’, we wanted to avoid a potentially cliche approach, and as a result felt drawn to the aesthetic era ‘Playboy’ was founded in. We took inspiration from 1953 middle America, with its staunch gendered expectations, yet inherently camp and queer media culture that was being oppressed by the newly introduced Hays Code. This was a set of social expectations that the movie industry implemented to suppress sexually suggestive and explicit content from being portrayed on the silver screen.

Through fashion, we explore this paradox by interplaying eroticism of male dominated close contact sports, and a femme approach to styling; to exude that classic ‘PlayBoy’ athletica look. The intermingling of a bright colour palette, feminine silhouettes, and softness in textures, highlights the complicated institution that was the ‘PlayBoy’ dynasty.

Creative Direction, Styling and Words by Lily Sundberg (she/her)

Photography by Emily Lederman (she/her)

Models: Anoushka Gold (they/them), Sunny Derham (they/them), Roi Yang (he/him) and Lily Sundberg (she/her)

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to a member of our Safer Community Unit

Safer Community Unit is a central point enquiry for information, advice, support and coordination in managing inappropriate, concerning threatening behaviours. You can contact them Monday to Friday 9am—5pm on 03 9905 1599 or safercommunity@monash.edu. The team have specialist knowledge, training and experience in responding to reports of sexual assault or sexual harassment.

view online at monash.edu/campus-support

Talk to the South Eastern Centre Against Sexual Assault (SECASA)

SECASAcounsellors are locatedwithin the University Health Services (UHS) at Clayton (Monday, Tuesday) and Caulfield (Monday), appointments can be made by contacting the UHS on 03 9905 3020. You can also make appointments off-campus with them at a variety of locations. To contact SECASA(24/7) call 03 9928 8741 or visit their website to learn more.

We are on the hunt for new writers and artists to join the Esperanto team! If you are interested in contributing in 2023 please contact us on editor.esperanto@gmail.com for all writing enquries and creative.esperanto@gmail.com for all things art!

Access our confidential counselling service have free and confidential counselling and psychological services. All counsellors have received sexual assault and trauma-specialised training from South Eastern Centre Against Sexual Assault (SECASA). Drop in or call 03 9905 3020 to an appointment.

Report a sexual assault anonymously

At www.sara.org.au you can anonymously report a sexual assault to SECASA, information can include when and where the incident took place and a description of the offender. You have an option to provide your contact information.

For all this information and more on support, advice, referral and reporting options, please view and download Monash’s Respect.Now.Always. Support App at www.monash.edu/campus-support.

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"Shall we shag now, or shall we shag later?"

Austin Powers, 1997