What a feminist spirituality can do for your sex life

What a Feminist Spirituality Can Do for Your Sex Life

Giving up the belief that we are the original sinners—and reclaiming your body as sacred terrain

Let me tell you a story.

Once upon a time—not so long ago, really—many of us were raised under a worldview that whispered (or shouted) that our bodies were dangerous.

If you grew up anywhere touched by Christianity—and that’s most of the West—there’s a good chance you inherited this peculiar little narrative: that woman, through Eve, was the original sinner.
The first transgressor.
The first one to disobey, to taste desire, to act on curiosity.

This wasn’t just an innocent myth. This story justified centuries of control over women’s bodies, sexualities, and freedoms. And it lingers. In how we feel about our hunger. Our thighs. Our orgasms. Our nakedness.

It tells us: you’re too much, too needy, too sexual.
Or not enough, not pure, not spiritual enough.

🔹

But here’s the twist you might not know:
Long before Eve bit that symbolic apple, long before sin and shame were invented as tools of control…
there were goddesses.

Archaeological evidence tells us that from the Neolithic era (roughly 10,000 years ago) onward, many ancient cultures revered the feminine as sacred. Think of the Venus figurines—those voluptuous statuettes carved 30,000 years ago, with pendulous breasts, wide hips, and round bellies—not because they represented “sin” but because they symbolized life itself.

In Sumer, Inanna was celebrated as a goddess of erotic power, fertility, and sovereignty. She wasn’t punished for her desire—she was desire, and her myths honored her sexual agency.

In ancient Egypt, Isis embodied magic, motherhood, and sexuality. She was depicted breastfeeding her child with no shame whatsoever—because the erotic and the maternal were not split.

Even in ancient Greece, before patriarchal myths took over, Aphrodite wasn’t just a sex symbol. She was an embodiment of beauty and sexual autonomy.

🔹

So what happened?

Well, as patriarchal monotheism rose, particularly Christianity, a new moral framework emerged. Women’s bodies—once sacred—became seen as sinful, leaky, dangerous.
In medieval theology, menstruation was seen as “proof” of women’s inferiority.
Theologians like Tertullian wrote that women were “the devil’s gateway,” forever marked by Eve’s disobedience.

By the time we reach the witch trials in Europe, these ideas culminated in real violence: women burned for their sexuality, independence, or simply for embodying the rhythms of nature.

This is not ancient history. It’s the cultural water many of us still swim in today.

🔹

And so it’s no wonder that so many people feel disconnected from their own bodies during sex.

How can we truly open to pleasure, presence, and embodiment when we are carrying the residue of thousands of years of stories telling us that our bodies are shameful, that our desire makes us dangerous, that surrendering to sensation makes us untrustworthy?

Here’s where feminist spirituality comes in—not as a “new religion,” but as a reclamation.
A remembering.

When we practice feminist spirituality, we give ourselves permission to recover an older truth:
That our bodies were never wrong.
That eroticism and holiness are not opposites.
That desire itself is sacred.

🔹

Imagine what shifts when we stop thinking of ourselves as “original sinners” and start thinking of ourselves as original givers of life.

When we see our bleeding as cyclical power—not pollution.
When we embrace our sexuality as an elemental force—not something to be tucked away or sanitized.

This doesn’t just affect how we think—it changes how we feel during sex:

• We stop dissociating when we’re touched.

• We start listening to what our bodies want and need, moment to moment.

• We release the performance trap and lean into curiosity.

• We let pleasure become more complex, more textured, more real.

🔹

So, here’s your gentle reminder, dear reader:

You are not here to atone for Eve’s mistake.
You are not a sinner for wanting, for aching, for hungering, for orgasming.

Your body is not wrong.
It’s a living, breathing altar.
It’s the same body that our ancestors once honored in the form of Venus figurines, the same body that ancient priestesses adorned with oils, fabrics, and flowers, the same body that was once seen as a doorway between earth and the divine.

🔹

💫 If this resonates, this is exactly the journey we take together in The Goddess Solution.
It’s time to remember:
Pleasure is not a sin—it’s a form of reverence.