Author of The Sweetness of Venus. A History of the Clitoris: Sarah Chadwick
Sarah Chadwick’s book The Sweetness of Venus. A History of the Clitoris was published in February 2021. She is a full time writer and speaker, splits her life between Chicago and London, and is mother to four grown children. She runs the feminist instagram page @its.personalgirls and her DM’s are always open.
Here she answers the Mama Sex Six:
What is the first thing that comes to mind when you hear the phrase "mama sex"?
I love sex, but when you say “mama Sex” I feel overwhelming exhaustion! My children are now 26, 25, 21 and 16, so I was in the mama sex zone for a l o n g time. I was fortunate not to experience post-natal depression or what would be considered traumatic births, so it should have all been fine, right? Although, having said this, the process of birth is traumatic. Women have done it for millennia, but today’s society has romanticized motherhood; we rarely see birth until we are doing it for ourselves. I remember trading birth-stories with other new mothers. It was a kind of therapy. Then the whole Mama experience is one of incredible cognitive dissonance: extreme joy and completeness often share space with boredom and shock at the loss of personal autonomy. Making space in a relationship to talk about this is so valuable as the back drop to mama sex.
I recall feeling that I needed to “have sex” at six weeks, as if to check that I was undamaged. The focus is on penetrative sex, yet sexual desire and pleasure for women is about so much more than intercourse. Let’s make post-natal female desire the priority! It is a timetable so publicly known that it sometimes feels to women as if their partners are lining up expectantly to take a turn with their bodies. I did an Instagram post recently about the fact that a husband’s entitlement to sex was part of the marriage contract until the early 1990s in the UK. A husband could not be convicted of rape, as his wife had given consent for all time by getting married. In the 1960s debate around provision of the pill centered on providing it to women who had done their duty by having children and who would be endangered by further pregnancies. The priority was to enable husbands to have their physical needs met. I just wonder if this six-week deadline stems more from that, rather than any need for women to have sex. I would love to know how this phase works in lesbian relationships, or for male couples who have adopted.
With my first baby, I was taken aback by the way I went off sex temporarily, even though I had always loved it. Suddenly I loved my babies more. I loved breastfeeding, their plump fleshy bodies, their smell, their uncomplicated needs. My body felt decidedly un-sexy: well-used and leaky (if it wasn’t breast milk it was post-natal urinary incontinence), there was probably baby sick in my hair. If I didn’t get a morning shower I was too tired by the evening to take one, that marine-style training tiredness of going to bed knowing you will be woken, of sleeping on high alert, and being obliged to get up early to change a nappy or prevent a wide-awake cot-escaping toddler killing themselves. Even if you do get back to bed, there’s darling little fingers prodding your eyes open, and on the days someone else offers to do the early shift, the noise breaks through. It’s relentless. Honestly, if given the choice of great sex or being left alone, I’d have chosen being left alone. Every time.
We laugh about it now, but I had an eleven O’clock rule, which was, after eleven O’clock at night sex was quick. We also referred to it as the three-minute rule, and we were both out for ourselves. This worked for me, but for many women climax doesn’t happen that quickly. Another friend had the fifty-stroke rule – she actually counted. Some women find this is the time to introduce a vibrator into the mix. Trust me, the desire to be longingly stroked, slowly ravished and teased into a frenzy comes back but it truly is inconsistent with the nappy and bedwetting years or teenagers in the room next door.
We don’t encourage mothers to prioritize self-care. And I don’t mean manicures, haircuts, candles and bath bombs. I mean setting aside real time. And for so many mothers this is an unachievable luxury. If we reconnect with ourselves, we are more open to setting aside time for sex with our partners, instead of feeling it is just another thing we ought to provide for someone else. I know I was more available for mama-sex when I got to a point where I felt sexual desire. I needed a date with ME first.
What inspired you to work/create/advocate on the topic of "mama sex"?
When deciding to write a woman centered nonfiction book, my first thoughts were around what it was to be a mother, then I played with the idea of women in mid-life, however I ended up writing a book about female sexual desire and pleasure: The Sweetness of Venus. A History of the Clitoris. At the time I thought I was writing a great feminist work (and I am enormously proud of it as a feminist book) but now I realize it is also a love letter about female sexuality.
The Sweetness of Venus advocates for female sexuality, for women to be given the information and framework to decide for themselves how they want to experience their sexuality. Mama sex plays into this, as does menopausal sex. Our relationship with sex changes throughout our lives and relationships. Being hot and horny is not a constant and what turns us on changes too. Early on in life, being desired might be a huge turn on and you might frequently feel spontaneous desire. In the era of mama sex, this often shifts to wanting to be appreciated, with more reliance on responsive desire. I see so many posts on social media about mothers feeling taken for granted. Mothers doing paid work out of the home do more of the household chores; unpaid mothers doing the work of child rearing don’t get weekends off. To any partner wondering where the sexual sparkle has gone, I say, look in the dish washer or laundry basket, or try to find it by ticking things off the weekend-away packing list rather than standing impatiently by the car with your neatly zipped bag already in the boot while the mother of your shared children is looking for a lost comforter, spare bottles and the travel sickness bags. And yes, they matter. I know you might do it differently, but if you are not taking the lead role all of the time, step up into the support role behind the leader you nominated. And take a turn being the leader of the whole show rather than cherry picking some tasks. The same patriarchy that has defined female sexuality and prioritized penetrative sex, defined mothers as primary carers and has left some partners with a sense of entitlement. I want to challenge that. I want to empower mothers to feel entitled too. Entitled to say, my sexuality matters, my pay rise matters, my orgasm matters, my pension contributions matter, my unpaid work matters, my career matters, my choices about the way we do things matters.
P.S. For the partners threatened by this, this is not to deny your struggles, only please don’t play tennis with them. You know, the competitive tiredness cross court return, the “I’m under pressure too” volley, the “If you can’t cope you should get more help” backhand return. Book your own slot rather than hijacking hers and creating a giant pot of resentment. Much of what I have to say about mama sex relates to creating a forum where desire can flourish.
In your work/practice/art, what are the biggest hurdles mothers are facing in terms of their sexuality?
Motherhood has been centered as the defining act for women. We see this played out in the way female celebrities or sports stars are asked how they are going to juggle motherhood with their careers, yet we never see fathers being asked this question. We use the phrases motherhood and manhood frequently, yet the words “fatherhood” and particularly “womanhood” feel clumsy in our mouths. In erotica we all know what “his manhood” refers to. Male sexuality is an essential part of male selfhood. Women do not have this embodied in their social identify. Mothers need to be able to be “both/and”, if they want. It’s all too easy to oblige them to let motherhood take over, as witnessed by the tranche of mothers who had to give up work to make family life function in the pandemic.
Secondly, there are some unsexy health issues that mothers face. Bodies don’t always bounce back to the way they were. Episiotomies or other stitches can result in intercourse being painful, and this doesn’t always resolve itself. Pelvic floor PT is hard to access, or expensive, yet strong pelvic muscles play a part in the sensations of orgasm, as well as bladder function. Getting a referral for a prolapse can take months, surgical repair even longer. Urinary incontinence is presented to mothers as the norm, with aisles in the supermarket and chemist dedicated to “hygiene” products. Post-partum depression is common. Ironically a side effect of both the contraceptive pill and anti-depressants can be reduced sexual desire. Often by the time children are away from the home, leaving couples more opportunity for intimacy, women are facing perimenopause and whole new wave of body fluctuations. That’s a lot of sexuality hurdles to jump with a baby or children in tow, yet they are not insurmountable when women have the right support. I love the way that social media, particularly Instagram and Tik Tok are creating incredible spaces for women around these issues, as well as forums like Mama-Sex.
What do you think society at large should know about motherhood and sexuality? And what is society getting wrong right now in regards to it?
We don’t have a culture of talking about sexual needs. So many couples don’t share fantasies, don’t ask their partners for different techniques, aren’t able to find a forum to say what they need to be able to get into the right headspace for sexual desire to flourish. Partners quickly feel defensive about pornography, masturbation, about being asked for more me time, about hearing their partner say, “I don’t feel valued today,” or “Birth has changed me. Can we talk about how I feel about our bodies?”/ “I can’t switch off with the children in the house,”/ “I need more intimacy,”/ “I feel overwhelmed, would you just hug me?” Other scripts might be “I don’t feel like playing dirty, it doesn’t sit easily with being Mummy at the moment,” or “I’d like to dress up, meet you at a bar and have wild anonymous hotel sex.” I want it to be okay to say,” I know you miss penetration but could we do X instead?” or “I don’t desire sex at the moment. It’s not about you, but maybe it feels personal. Can we talk about it?” without it being a big deal. I wish society did sex education so that it had a pleasure focus, as well as a safety focus. That would be a start!
What piece of sex advice would you give mothers? Was there something you wish someone had told you?
If sex is important to you, masturbate more. It’s quick, effective and pleasurable. It keeps the sex spark alive! And orgasm gives your pelvic floor a work out.
Prioritize your pelvic floor. Pilates and barre are fabulous for it. Push for a PT referral if needed.
It doesn’t last forever. Sex gets better with age because you know what you like and are better at asking for what you want. And if sex matters to you, fight for it during menopause if you need to.
If you are in a relationship and can afford the luxury, line up a couple’s therapist. Use them so you and your partner can both air your feelings about sharing parenthood, and your sexual interactions, in an emotionally safe space. Sometimes feeling sexual with a partner is less about the sex and more about your feelings around that person.
Let's amplify our voice: Who are some mamas you love following on social media?
@its.personalgirls Me! Funny, feminist and gritty.
@twelve4pleasure. Listen to her podcast about her personal journey, post children, to explore the twelve ways a woman can orgasm.
@holliepoetry – brutally honest and funny poetry about motherhood and sex.
@barre_goals – options for live zoom barre classes with mama and barre fitness expert, Kim, who is one of the loveliest fitness cheerleaders you could wish for.
@veronica_constance_ Yoga, birth work, Reiki, womb healing.
Backstory on Sweetness of Venus:
Sarah Chadwick started writing The Sweetness of Venus. A History of the Clitoirs after a 21- year-old friend asked, “How does sex really work? I know the mechanics, but I don’t think I’m doing it right.” Chadwick had assumed young people today are well informed, but research quickly threw up shocking statistics about the heterosexual orgasm gap (women have way fewer partnered orgasms), the negative impact of porn on sex scripts (young people frequently say they use porn so they can learn about sex), and an awful history of denial in terms of how female sexuality works: 75% of women don’t orgasm through penetration but they do with direct clitoral stimulation and this is reflected in the ways women masturbate. She says, “Penetration is held as some kind of gold standard. It’s not! The notion of foreplay is a nonsense for most women; it’s the main event. It’s not the warm up but the headline act. Most people don’t know the full structure of the clitoris, despite the fact science has known about the internal bulbs and cura since 1844. I wanted to understand why evisceration of female desire and pleasure had happened, and to empower people to change this narrative. Female sexuality and the role of women (traditionally believed to be solely motherhood) has always been shaped by the patriarchy. The scripts we have about what it is to be a woman have not been driven by women at all.”
This makes The Sweetness of Venus sound intense but it’s not. It’s provocative, fascinating, funny and kind. Like great sex. It was incredibly important to Chadwick that she wrote a book people would enjoy reading and left them feeling they had a cheerleader and friend when it came to understanding both the history of attitudes to female sexuality and how they might reclaim it. (Ease seeing and using the word “clitoris” is a great start!) She also wanted to make people laugh because “We all need more laughter.”
Chadwick splits her life between the UK and Chicago, is a full-time writer, speaker and book- group host. She is a guest researcher at Loyola University and has four children.
https://www.amazon.co.uk/Sweetness-Venus-History-Clitoris-ebook/dp/B08TMQPBWT
(Also available in the US and globally as a audio book.)
Instagram @its.personalgirls
Twitter @itspersonalgirl
