Remember when in school….
Actually I don’t think it works like this everywhere.
Let me start over.
When I was in school, I was a cool (only to myself and my teachers) kid because all I ever did was nerd. And I did not nerd in the hot physicist with great ass kind of way, I nerded in the stereotypical attire of oiled plaits with red ribbon way.
So, I was cool to the teachers and myself.
But one day a new boy came to my class. Non-nerd AND smart. My teacher started thinking he is cool. Leave alone the naive, gullible classmates, the teacher! I was like “Et tu brute?”. Rules of cool changed, overnight. Cool did not oil hair, cool did not wear socks high till thigh.
THAT happened to sex at the start of the renaissance. Suddenly we became the uncool kid, profane, barbaric, ‘hey bhagwan kya bol diya‘. Before people could figure what went wrong with old cool, it became a sin. Everyone wanted to be the new non-sinner Christian cool and took over these neo-cool ways. But you can take the cool out of the nerd but…stretching the analogy?
We suppressed, tried, something so innate to being human. But what was, stayed. Inside.
Good for Freud. And Bollywood. We had flowers being bumped against each other, ‘Choli ke piche kya hai’, ‘kaliyo ko khilne se pehle nahi todte‘ kind of small talk. So low have we sunk in our ability to suggest. I secretly blame this for body parts named cuss words that just don’t seem to offend me. “you are a dick””okay, cool, what’s for lunch?”
It, in other non humorous ways, this embarrassed symbolism caused frustration. And confusion. My friend once came to me crying because she worried she could get pregnant by kissing. Do I even want to talk about how this might cause eve teasing, sexual harassment, unwanted pregnancies, marital rape.
Why in this turbulent time of Dictators and racial divide, do we even have to make an issue of sexual education? It should have happened at home, like cooking or most driving lessons do.
But let’s do what we must.
Re-raise, I guess, ourselves.
Today I will talk about sexuality like it’s allowed. I will talk about it like I talk about my morning breakfast. I will equate your touch to the feeling I get in my stomach when I see a million birds flying across a sunset colored sky. I will tell you how your fingers on my thigh remind me of the sun-kissed flowers falling on my skin during spring. I will try to explain to you how I feel about being touched in ways I hope you will get. I will remind you, today, of the feeling of the low tide waves washing the sand off your toes. I will make everyone feel like I feel. The ecstasy. The eccentricity. The absolute normalcy. I will make clear to you the tangibility of the feeling when I tell you it really is the same thing you feel when you eat your sunny side up on toast on a Sunday afternoon.