One of my favourite films of all time, The Worst Person in the World, remains a top favourite for several reasons, but one reason always stands out, and it’s something I haven’t ever been able to shake off.
In the film, the main character, Julie, played by Renate Reinsve, goes through a period of self-doubt regarding her career and begins exploring her options. She floats around the idea of writing but isn’t sure if that’s what she really wants to do. Eventually, she writes a short story titled “Oral Sex in the Age of #MeToo: Can You Be a Feminist and Still Enjoy Being Mouth-F***ed?” which without sounding dramatic, changed the entirety of my being.
I remember watching that scene and feeling like something clicked or shifted in my mind. Suddenly, a question that had been floating around in my head, one I was never able to fully form or articulate, was laid out perfectly in front of me through this beautiful film. I recall feeling relief and a sense of relatability, realizing I was likely among a sea of women who pondered the same question, or something along the lines of: does enjoying sexual submission undermine the concept of feminism?
The question kept lingering in my mind, and I knew I had to make sense of it somehow: Can feminism and submissiveness truly coexist, and does enjoying submission make me a bad feminist?
I began seeking answers to my burning questions, trying to understand why submissiveness is often subjected to reproach within feminist ideologies. To do so, it only feels natural to turn to key feminist theories, starting with Laura Mulvey’s remarkable male gaze theory (genuinely my favourite theory of all time).
The male gaze centres on portraying women from a heterosexual, masculine perspective, where they are framed primarily as objects of visual pleasure for the male viewer. Mulvey’s theory, widely used in literature and media (especially film), shows how women are objectified and overly sexualized to conform to male standards and appeal to a male audience. This gaze has had a huge impact on what we consider the standard depiction of female beauty.
What’s especially interesting is how applicable the male gaze is to nearly any portrayal of women, including female submission, which is often sexualized in ways that strip it of its agency. Under this lens, expressions of female desire, particularly submissive tendencies, are interpreted as existing primarily for male enjoyment. By viewing women’s desire as something that caters to male pleasure, these expressions are reduced to serving men’s needs, effectively diminishing women’s agency by making their desires seem secondary.
Women’s desires shouldn’t be filtered through the lens of male pleasure, as their sexual expressions don’t exist for male approval or consumption. But as society often interprets female sexuality through the male gaze, women are objectified simply for expressing their desires rather than being seen as making their own personal choices.
This cultural framing makes it extremely difficult for women to express sexual agency without being cast into stereotypes of submissiveness or passivity or being shamed for a version of submissiveness shaped by the male gaze.
While the male gaze explains how submissiveness has been sexualized over the years, the critique of submissive or sexually expressive behaviours has actually been a topic of debate among feminists for a long time. Second-wave feminism, for example, often criticized such behaviours as reinforcing patriarchy.
While it may feel counterintuitive to critique these earlier feminist ideas, I think it’s important to highlight the flaws that exist in viewing sexual expression solely as a means of reinforcing patriarchy. This perspective feeds into the notion that any display of sexual desire is inherently reserved for men, reducing women to tools for fueling male desire rather than recognizing their right to possess and express their own desires.
Thankfully, when third-wave feminism emerged, there was a shift toward embracing sexual liberation and the right to express one’s desires, including submissive preferences, on one’s own terms without any external subjugation. This framework embraced diverse forms of self-expression through sexualized and submissive forms without condemning them the way the second wave did.
When trying to understand why submissiveness and expressions of female sexuality are so heavily criticized, even in some feminist literature, it’s clear that deep-rooted stigma surrounds women’s sexual desire, and a lot of this is explained by double standards.
Double standards will unfortunately never cease to exist, and female sexuality is no exception. Women are often judged for their sexual expressions; those with high sexual desire are labelled as loose or freaky, while those who are more reserved are seen as uptight or needing to loosen up. Much like all the other criticisms directed at women, there seems to be no way to satisfy or appease those who insist on confining women to a particular image or set of behaviours.
A striking example that I always find abhorrent is the public reaction to women in the media compared to men. Female singers like Sabrina Carpenter face intense criticism for singing about feeling horny, wanting to have fun, and embracing sexuality, while male artists like Robin Thicke can release an infuriating song like “Blurred Lines” — in which he openly expresses his disdain for sexual boundaries and consent, criticizing the blurred lines and saying, “I know you want it,” without ever facing any form of backlash whatsoever.
In a society quick to silence women for simply discussing sexual desires, it’s only natural for many to fear judgment. This creates a conflict between the desire for self-expression and the weight of perceived feminist values, underscoring the guilt and shame that women often feel when expressing their sexuality openly.
A lot of critiques of submissiveness and feminism concern the idea that a woman should not be submissive to a man, as it reinforces the notion that men are superior to women. However, I believe that there are flaws in viewing sexual submissiveness through this lens, and of course, bell hooks explains it best.
hooks’ framework details how patriarchy teaches women to internalize feelings of guilt and shame for expressing desires that don’t conform to the conventional standards of female empowerment. This often leads women to fear embracing their desires to be submissive, even if it’s a personal choice, because they believe it equates submission to male control, which is believed to contradict feminist empowerment.
This internal conflict makes women question whether embracing their personal sexual desires contradicts feminist ideals, leading to guilt over feeling like a “bad” feminist.
Based on these various viewpoints of submission and feminism, it’s extremely understandable how women would feel guilt and shame about enjoying and embracing this notion of desire. However, it’s important to remember that there are several factors that aim to criticize and condemn women for expressing these desires, and none of them should ever be considered when debating what makes a woman feel pleasure.
Having battled with these ideologies myself, I feel a great sense of relief and ease in finally being able to free myself from the guilt and the perception of being a bad feminist simply because of certain sexual desires that appeal to me.
I don’t believe there can be such a thing as a bad feminist or a good feminist. The core goal of feminism remains the same for all of us, and nitpicking sexual desires, something already highly criticized for women, won’t contribute to the larger movement.
So, to answer Julie’s article, no, I don’t think enjoying being mouth-f***ed makes you a bad feminist, and it does not take away from female autonomy, so don’t ever let the guilt convince you otherwise.
So please take this as a sign to watch The Worst Person in the World and thank me later!