Ooooof. I want to frame this piece and put it on my wall, Danusia.
I am not a mother. But when I am in the proximity of my parents, my desire dims. It's painful, and I haven't figured out how to undo the damage of those younger years where I was essentially taught to be an asexual version of myself. My desire was dangerous. "My milk brings all the boys to the yard", so to speak. What would this mean for our Mormon family to have a unbridled daughter?
I'm very much unbridled now, thank the goddess. And should I become a mother in this lifetime, may I give myself the full embodied permission to fuck as loudly as I like. This is, after all, how they would have been made in the first place.
I grinned reading this. The image of you fucking loudly, goddess intact, Mormon ghosts be damned felt like a full-body yes. I hear you on the way desire gets blunted by proximity to parents. It’s not one bit subtle and it sticks.
If you ever want to chat on sex, and motherhood (real or imagined), and everything we’re not meant to say out loud, count me in Sarah.
Wow. Danusia this is phenomenal. Exquisitely expressed, passionately felt, delightfully evocative. And makes me ever so slightly uncomfortable... in the best way because it makes me challenge my beliefs. What *is* the line with sex and others' boundaries? Definitely not self-muzzling, for that is tragic. As someone who's long lived in the shadows of shame and sexuality from my indoctrinated cult adjacent upbringing... I CRAVE this liberation. Thank you for being you, thank you for saying the shit too many won't. I appreciate you so so so much. ❤️🔥
Megan, thank you for trusting me with this. You didn’t have to name the shadows you’ve walked through here, but you did, and it matters. I see you, and I’m cheering for the fierce, brilliant woman who craves (and claims) her liberation.
And thank you for the feature, it means more when it’s from someone who gets it in their bones. Right back at you. ❤️🔥
My kids have recently moved from the big shared bonus room down the hall to the two smaller rooms that flank our bedroom on either side. We advocated for them to do this, so they could have their own space and a little autonomy from each other, but didn't realize until it was too late what that could mean for our sex life. My boys are 9 and 11 and they often stay up later than me; there have been so many nights where I have the desire to have sex but simply don't want to worry about them hearing us, or knocking on the door mid-fuck. But last week, my husband and I were having fantastic sex, and I just could not be bothered to care that they might hear. What would be the worst that could happen? That they ask what we were doing in there? I would be perfectly honest with them, because that's how we handle things in our household. They'll be sharing a house with us for, at a minimum, the next eight years and there is no way in hell I'm sidelining my libido that long. GREAT article!
Melissa, this is the kind of grounded, gutsy honesty that makes me want to stand up and clap. That mid-fuck clarity? Where the desire outweighs the noise-paranoia? Yes. It matters. Not just for our sex lives, but for showing our kids what a connected, alive adulthood looks like. Thank you for this. I’ll be cheering you on from my own pleasure-ground 🔥♀️
Bloody brilliant, I love that you wrote this. I actually recorded a podcast on parenting and kink last week and we were discussing just this. I do think this is only partially a feminist issue though. Parents of any gender are under this oppression, expected to become a non sexual being the moment they step into parental servitude. Though of course intersectionality makes this even more so for women.
This unspoken rule is actively damaging to our children in several ways in my opinion:
1. Our silence around anything sexual makes taboo of the sexuality humans of all ages feel and know.
2. We abandon parts of ourselves and therefore can’t be truly authentic with our children because we’re effectively playing a role.
And
3. As you said, we stop modelling what a parent looks like when they are fully lit up in their sexual power and desire for life.
YES to every word here, Roma. You’re so right—it’s a cultural straightjacket strapped tight across all parents, regardless of gender. But the intensity, the surveillance, the double binds—those weigh even heavier on mothers. I love that you’re podcasting about this too. We need all the voices. All the light. All the glorious, desire-lit examples of what parenting can look like without the performance. Thank you for fucking—and for saying it out loud. xx
My children are grown and gone. But I remember this struggle. I hated it but did not have the words to express to my partner. I was raised in the evangelical cult. My father a Minister. I was “caught” at age 4 or 5 masterbating or what my brain thought o as makin me feel good, by my mom and was shamed. Luckily my physical need was greater than the shame. It was the beginning of my leaving the cult. Cause how could something so pleasurable be bad?
Your story speaks to exactly why I wrote this piece because too many of us were taught to fear what was already ours. Thank you for naming it.
I’m deeply moved too by the link you draw between pleasure and leaving the cult. It’s such a powerful reminder that our bodies can lead us toward freedom, even when everything around us says don’t. I’m really glad you’re here.
This reminded me of what you wrote for me about openly grieving in front of your children. Showing them that to be loud and messy is to be human. It also reminds me of Geoffery Gorer's essay, The Pornography of Death, which isn't about mothers specifically but calls out society on silencing integral parts of humanity.
Yes, Laura, what a beautiful connection. Grief, like sex, is so often silenced in mothers. We’re expected to hold it in, tidy it up, not make anyone uncomfortable. But as Gorer said, the real obscenity is the denial of what’s most human. Loud grief, loud pleasure—both are forms of truth-telling. Thank you for reminding me of that ♥️
Brilliant piece Danusia. Fucking within earshot of my parents always bothered me more than within earshot of the kids. Husband and did on one memorable occasion realise that a sleepy toddler was watching us
Oops, I hope you’re ok! I don’t think the child was traumatised, she just said the next morning that she heard funny noises coming from our bedroom. We reassured that we had been playing hide and seek under the quilt!
This actually got me thinking about days gone by. My mum grew up in a row of seventeenth century cottages. The next door neighbours apparently had 11 kids. In a two-up two-down cottage. The older kids must have known what they were up to …
If we look back at puritanical teachings about sex it’s often assumed Puritans were anti sex. Except they passionately argued for fulfilling sex lives within marriage. Puritans maintained sexual intercourse was necessary for procreation, but also that sex was an important way for couples to bond in a loving relationship.
So creating 11 kids in a tiny terraced place probably did involve awareness that mum and dad were having sex. You’re right, surely?!
I can admit—I’ve never really paused to ask why we still stay quiet sometimes, even though our lovemaking is anything but.
This cracked something open in me.
I just started on substack writing about post-kids intimacy—how sex and connection can be passionate and fiery through marriage and motherhood.
But this reminded me: even in deep, fulfilling pleasure, many of us are still performing restraint. Still silencing parts of ourselves because somewhere along the way, we were told to.
Maybe that’s why my husband and I have our love hotel sessions.
We’ll spend up to 6 hours there—doing everything.
That’s where we let ourselves go. No holding back. No tiptoeing. No silencing.
I guess that’s where we get some relief… lol.
Somewhere to feel fully untethered before returning to the real world.
Thank you for writing this. It’s the kind of liberation so many of us need to feel seen.❤️🔥
This is such a rich, honest reflection, thank you for sharing it.
I’m struck by how many of us carve out space for pleasure elsewhere, almost as a form of containment. We allow ourselves to be untethered behind closed hotel doors, in secret, apart from the daily rhythms of motherhood. And that makes sense because integration can feel impossible. Who would we have to become to let that wild, hungry, lustful self live here, in the same home where we make lunches, smooth poorly brows and fold socks?
There’s no single answer. But I think these questions matter.
What if liberation wasn’t something we had to schedule and leave the house for?
What if pleasure didn’t have to mean departure?
You’re doing beautiful work, and I’m so glad you’re writing into this space. ❤️💕❤️
Thank you so much for this response—it really resonated. I think for me, the split between “the wild, hungry, lustful self” and the role of mother isn’t just containment—it’s almost protection. Not for ourselves, but for our kids.
There’s a part of our sexuality that feels so untamed, so powerfully embodied, that it’s not sinful to us—but it feels like it would be inappropriate for them. We carry a huge responsibility as role models, and even though pleasure isn’t bad, I sometimes wonder… What would be the consequence of our kids seeing that part of us too soon?
Would it confuse them the same way early exposure to porn might? Would it overwhelm their still-forming understanding of love, safety, or boundaries?
Maybe that’s why so many parents keep this side of themselves hidden—not because we’re ashamed, but because the stakes feel so high. I’ve come to find that having two “roles” actually works for us. Not in a performative way, but in a sacred, intentional way. Like we’re protecting our children’s innocence and fiercely honoring our own pleasure.
Still, I love your question—what if pleasure didn’t have to mean departure? It’s one I’m still exploring.
This deserves a follow-up essay. If I were to write it, which parts would you most want me to unpack?
I also explore this in NOISE: A Manifesto Modernising Motherhood, particularly in the chapter titled “The Noise Says Mothers Must Be Sexy and Sexless.”
If you were to write a follow-up, I’d love for you to unpack the tension between integration and protection. That sense of duality we carry as mothers and lovers—how it’s not always shame, but deep care, that shapes the boundaries we draw.
What does it mean to honor both roles without erasing either?
What happens when pleasure has to be compartmentalized, not out of guilt—but out of responsibility?
Thank you again for making this feel like a space where both our fierceness and our fears can be spoken aloud.
Good morning, My partner and I are @fertilebydesign. A couple who experienced multiple miscarriages sharing our knowledge along the way. We focus on fecundability, male and female fertility and the 90day cell turnover . Our mission is to help as many people TTC to advocate for themselves. I would love you to have a look at what we are righting
Thanks for reading, and I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, that’s a deeply painful road. Wishing you both well as you support others on their path.
This is very thought provoking and I will add that in addition to keeping quiet I often feel pressure to not be sad. It sometimes feels like I can’t express emotions which without everyone getting mad at me for making them uncomfortable bc i am experience something negative. We are working on both though. Luckily we figured out there was an alternate use for the bedroom downstairs other than as an office. And if they hear? They’re old enough to be embarrassed to say anything.
Shalagh! This means the world. I’m so glad you found the Hollie episode too. Yes to your stories! Yes to standing together! 👯♀️Yes to the unsaid finally being said. I’m right here for it ❤️
This makes me think of my mother. How would things be different if I knew she was allowing deep pleasure into her life, I to her soul. Thank you for the permission to do things differently with my child.
Shinay, what a profound, beautiful reflection. It takes real courage to name what we didn’t see and still choose to offer something different. I’m honoured this piece could be part of that shift for you. 🙏🏻
AI slop thumbnail, immediately muted. Just wanted to let you know because you have no idea how many potential readers you may be losing by showing this lack of creative integrity
Thanks for taking the time to comment. For context, the image was sourced from Pinterest and came without artist attribution, if I’d had it, I’d have credited it gladly. I don’t use AI to generate images.
What drew me to this one was the juxtaposition: lipstick, toast, and the domestic friction of it. That contrast felt right for the essay.
Interestingly, very few readers have been put off by it. Your reaction reminds me how differently we all see. I'm far more interested in curiosity than condemnation, especially when we’re speaking to one another’s work.
Ooooof. I want to frame this piece and put it on my wall, Danusia.
I am not a mother. But when I am in the proximity of my parents, my desire dims. It's painful, and I haven't figured out how to undo the damage of those younger years where I was essentially taught to be an asexual version of myself. My desire was dangerous. "My milk brings all the boys to the yard", so to speak. What would this mean for our Mormon family to have a unbridled daughter?
I'm very much unbridled now, thank the goddess. And should I become a mother in this lifetime, may I give myself the full embodied permission to fuck as loudly as I like. This is, after all, how they would have been made in the first place.
I grinned reading this. The image of you fucking loudly, goddess intact, Mormon ghosts be damned felt like a full-body yes. I hear you on the way desire gets blunted by proximity to parents. It’s not one bit subtle and it sticks.
If you ever want to chat on sex, and motherhood (real or imagined), and everything we’re not meant to say out loud, count me in Sarah.
Wow. Danusia this is phenomenal. Exquisitely expressed, passionately felt, delightfully evocative. And makes me ever so slightly uncomfortable... in the best way because it makes me challenge my beliefs. What *is* the line with sex and others' boundaries? Definitely not self-muzzling, for that is tragic. As someone who's long lived in the shadows of shame and sexuality from my indoctrinated cult adjacent upbringing... I CRAVE this liberation. Thank you for being you, thank you for saying the shit too many won't. I appreciate you so so so much. ❤️🔥
Megan, thank you for trusting me with this. You didn’t have to name the shadows you’ve walked through here, but you did, and it matters. I see you, and I’m cheering for the fierce, brilliant woman who craves (and claims) her liberation.
And thank you for the feature, it means more when it’s from someone who gets it in their bones. Right back at you. ❤️🔥
Appreciate you and your words oh so much!!! ❤️🔥
My kids have recently moved from the big shared bonus room down the hall to the two smaller rooms that flank our bedroom on either side. We advocated for them to do this, so they could have their own space and a little autonomy from each other, but didn't realize until it was too late what that could mean for our sex life. My boys are 9 and 11 and they often stay up later than me; there have been so many nights where I have the desire to have sex but simply don't want to worry about them hearing us, or knocking on the door mid-fuck. But last week, my husband and I were having fantastic sex, and I just could not be bothered to care that they might hear. What would be the worst that could happen? That they ask what we were doing in there? I would be perfectly honest with them, because that's how we handle things in our household. They'll be sharing a house with us for, at a minimum, the next eight years and there is no way in hell I'm sidelining my libido that long. GREAT article!
Melissa, this is the kind of grounded, gutsy honesty that makes me want to stand up and clap. That mid-fuck clarity? Where the desire outweighs the noise-paranoia? Yes. It matters. Not just for our sex lives, but for showing our kids what a connected, alive adulthood looks like. Thank you for this. I’ll be cheering you on from my own pleasure-ground 🔥♀️
Bloody brilliant, I love that you wrote this. I actually recorded a podcast on parenting and kink last week and we were discussing just this. I do think this is only partially a feminist issue though. Parents of any gender are under this oppression, expected to become a non sexual being the moment they step into parental servitude. Though of course intersectionality makes this even more so for women.
This unspoken rule is actively damaging to our children in several ways in my opinion:
1. Our silence around anything sexual makes taboo of the sexuality humans of all ages feel and know.
2. We abandon parts of ourselves and therefore can’t be truly authentic with our children because we’re effectively playing a role.
And
3. As you said, we stop modelling what a parent looks like when they are fully lit up in their sexual power and desire for life.
Thanks for writing (and for fucking) xx
YES to every word here, Roma. You’re so right—it’s a cultural straightjacket strapped tight across all parents, regardless of gender. But the intensity, the surveillance, the double binds—those weigh even heavier on mothers. I love that you’re podcasting about this too. We need all the voices. All the light. All the glorious, desire-lit examples of what parenting can look like without the performance. Thank you for fucking—and for saying it out loud. xx
My children are grown and gone. But I remember this struggle. I hated it but did not have the words to express to my partner. I was raised in the evangelical cult. My father a Minister. I was “caught” at age 4 or 5 masterbating or what my brain thought o as makin me feel good, by my mom and was shamed. Luckily my physical need was greater than the shame. It was the beginning of my leaving the cult. Cause how could something so pleasurable be bad?
Your story speaks to exactly why I wrote this piece because too many of us were taught to fear what was already ours. Thank you for naming it.
I’m deeply moved too by the link you draw between pleasure and leaving the cult. It’s such a powerful reminder that our bodies can lead us toward freedom, even when everything around us says don’t. I’m really glad you’re here.
This reminded me of what you wrote for me about openly grieving in front of your children. Showing them that to be loud and messy is to be human. It also reminds me of Geoffery Gorer's essay, The Pornography of Death, which isn't about mothers specifically but calls out society on silencing integral parts of humanity.
Yes, Laura, what a beautiful connection. Grief, like sex, is so often silenced in mothers. We’re expected to hold it in, tidy it up, not make anyone uncomfortable. But as Gorer said, the real obscenity is the denial of what’s most human. Loud grief, loud pleasure—both are forms of truth-telling. Thank you for reminding me of that ♥️
Brilliant piece Danusia. Fucking within earshot of my parents always bothered me more than within earshot of the kids. Husband and did on one memorable occasion realise that a sleepy toddler was watching us
Oh Julie, your comment made me splutter on my Earl Grey.
Thank you for reading this article and for your fab words!
Oops, I hope you’re ok! I don’t think the child was traumatised, she just said the next morning that she heard funny noises coming from our bedroom. We reassured that we had been playing hide and seek under the quilt!
It was a fun splutter, not anything that involved burns. 🤣 hide and seek under the quilt sounds like a plausible description for a toddler. 🛏️
This actually got me thinking about days gone by. My mum grew up in a row of seventeenth century cottages. The next door neighbours apparently had 11 kids. In a two-up two-down cottage. The older kids must have known what they were up to …
If we look back at puritanical teachings about sex it’s often assumed Puritans were anti sex. Except they passionately argued for fulfilling sex lives within marriage. Puritans maintained sexual intercourse was necessary for procreation, but also that sex was an important way for couples to bond in a loving relationship.
So creating 11 kids in a tiny terraced place probably did involve awareness that mum and dad were having sex. You’re right, surely?!
I'm not a mother, but as someone who shares a room with three sisters, I'm not unfamiliar with "hiding" my pleasure.
I love your comment so so much! ❤️🔥
*two sisters, sorry, it's three of us counting me
The essence: you hide pleasure. You’re not alone. 💖😉
I can admit—I’ve never really paused to ask why we still stay quiet sometimes, even though our lovemaking is anything but.
This cracked something open in me.
I just started on substack writing about post-kids intimacy—how sex and connection can be passionate and fiery through marriage and motherhood.
But this reminded me: even in deep, fulfilling pleasure, many of us are still performing restraint. Still silencing parts of ourselves because somewhere along the way, we were told to.
Maybe that’s why my husband and I have our love hotel sessions.
We’ll spend up to 6 hours there—doing everything.
That’s where we let ourselves go. No holding back. No tiptoeing. No silencing.
I guess that’s where we get some relief… lol.
Somewhere to feel fully untethered before returning to the real world.
Thank you for writing this. It’s the kind of liberation so many of us need to feel seen.❤️🔥
This is such a rich, honest reflection, thank you for sharing it.
I’m struck by how many of us carve out space for pleasure elsewhere, almost as a form of containment. We allow ourselves to be untethered behind closed hotel doors, in secret, apart from the daily rhythms of motherhood. And that makes sense because integration can feel impossible. Who would we have to become to let that wild, hungry, lustful self live here, in the same home where we make lunches, smooth poorly brows and fold socks?
There’s no single answer. But I think these questions matter.
What if liberation wasn’t something we had to schedule and leave the house for?
What if pleasure didn’t have to mean departure?
You’re doing beautiful work, and I’m so glad you’re writing into this space. ❤️💕❤️
Thank you so much for this response—it really resonated. I think for me, the split between “the wild, hungry, lustful self” and the role of mother isn’t just containment—it’s almost protection. Not for ourselves, but for our kids.
There’s a part of our sexuality that feels so untamed, so powerfully embodied, that it’s not sinful to us—but it feels like it would be inappropriate for them. We carry a huge responsibility as role models, and even though pleasure isn’t bad, I sometimes wonder… What would be the consequence of our kids seeing that part of us too soon?
Would it confuse them the same way early exposure to porn might? Would it overwhelm their still-forming understanding of love, safety, or boundaries?
Maybe that’s why so many parents keep this side of themselves hidden—not because we’re ashamed, but because the stakes feel so high. I’ve come to find that having two “roles” actually works for us. Not in a performative way, but in a sacred, intentional way. Like we’re protecting our children’s innocence and fiercely honoring our own pleasure.
Still, I love your question—what if pleasure didn’t have to mean departure? It’s one I’m still exploring.
There’s so much to talk over here.
This deserves a follow-up essay. If I were to write it, which parts would you most want me to unpack?
I also explore this in NOISE: A Manifesto Modernising Motherhood, particularly in the chapter titled “The Noise Says Mothers Must Be Sexy and Sexless.”
If you were to write a follow-up, I’d love for you to unpack the tension between integration and protection. That sense of duality we carry as mothers and lovers—how it’s not always shame, but deep care, that shapes the boundaries we draw.
What does it mean to honor both roles without erasing either?
What happens when pleasure has to be compartmentalized, not out of guilt—but out of responsibility?
Thank you again for making this feel like a space where both our fierceness and our fears can be spoken aloud.
Good morning, My partner and I are @fertilebydesign. A couple who experienced multiple miscarriages sharing our knowledge along the way. We focus on fecundability, male and female fertility and the 90day cell turnover . Our mission is to help as many people TTC to advocate for themselves. I would love you to have a look at what we are righting
https://substack.com/@fertilebydesign/note/p-164097952?r=5o8se4&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action
Thanks for reading, and I’m sorry for what you’ve been through, that’s a deeply painful road. Wishing you both well as you support others on their path.
Thank you x
Beautiful 👏
Thank you, Jennifer. I’m so glad it resonated 💕
This is very thought provoking and I will add that in addition to keeping quiet I often feel pressure to not be sad. It sometimes feels like I can’t express emotions which without everyone getting mad at me for making them uncomfortable bc i am experience something negative. We are working on both though. Luckily we figured out there was an alternate use for the bedroom downstairs other than as an office. And if they hear? They’re old enough to be embarrassed to say anything.
That pressure to be palatable all the time? It’s exhausting. Sadness makes people fidgety, and desire makes them defensive and BOTH deserve space.
And as for that downstairs bedroom, brilliant. May it bring many forms of reclamation! 🎉
I listened to your podcast with Hollie McNish and I wanted to cheer and comment about how brilliant it was. And then this !?
This is heroic stuff and I standing with you, ready to bring my own stories! Thank you!
Shalagh! This means the world. I’m so glad you found the Hollie episode too. Yes to your stories! Yes to standing together! 👯♀️Yes to the unsaid finally being said. I’m right here for it ❤️
You are lovely.
This makes me think of my mother. How would things be different if I knew she was allowing deep pleasure into her life, I to her soul. Thank you for the permission to do things differently with my child.
Shinay, what a profound, beautiful reflection. It takes real courage to name what we didn’t see and still choose to offer something different. I’m honoured this piece could be part of that shift for you. 🙏🏻
AI slop thumbnail, immediately muted. Just wanted to let you know because you have no idea how many potential readers you may be losing by showing this lack of creative integrity
Thanks for taking the time to comment. For context, the image was sourced from Pinterest and came without artist attribution, if I’d had it, I’d have credited it gladly. I don’t use AI to generate images.
What drew me to this one was the juxtaposition: lipstick, toast, and the domestic friction of it. That contrast felt right for the essay.
Interestingly, very few readers have been put off by it. Your reaction reminds me how differently we all see. I'm far more interested in curiosity than condemnation, especially when we’re speaking to one another’s work.
Genius article! Really! All of it
Thank you, Jane. That really means something. This essay came from deep in the gut, and I wasn’t sure how it would land. I’m glad it met you.