Let's talk about something that sits in the dark corners of almost everyone's psyche: sexual shame.

It is a heavy, uncomfortable feeling that whispers we're somehow wrong, broken or "too much" when it comes to our desires, our bodies or our sexual selves. It reminds me of having a particularly judgmental family member over for dinner who constantly makes mean comments on everything you’ve cooked even though it’s actually delicious!

I've learned that sexual shame is one of the most pervasive yet least discussed barriers to genuine intimacy and self-acceptance. It really shapes how we see ourselves, how we connect with others and whether we believe we deserve pleasure and connection at all. I see it so often, and have experienced it firsthand, and I want to share my own thoughts and experiences on the subject.

What sexual shame actually is

Sexual shame isn't just feeling a bit embarrassed about that time you made an awkward noise during sex (though we've all been there). It's a deep and often unconscious belief that there's something fundamentally wrong with our sexual selves. It's the voice that tells us our desires are inappropriate, our bodies are inadequate or our curiosity about pleasure makes us somehow dirty or bad.

This shame can show up in countless ways: feeling guilty for wanting sex, apologising for our bodies, hiding our fantasies, faking pleasure to avoid disappointing someone or believing we don't deserve to ask for what we want.

A lot of research on shame tells us it's fundamentally different from guilt. Guilt says "I did something bad" while shame says "I am bad". Sexual shame expresses that our very essence as sexual beings is flawed, which is both devastating and completely false.

Where this shame comes from

Sexual shame rarely appears out of nowhere, it's usually a carefully crafted collection of messages we've received throughout our lives starting very young. Maybe it started with well-meaning but misguided comments about our bodies, religious teachings that painted sexuality as sinful or cultural messages that divided people into "good" and "bad" based on their sexual choices.

Sometimes it comes from specific experiences like being shamed for masturbating, having our curiosity about bodies shut down harshly or experiencing unwanted attention that made us feel like our sexuality was somehow dangerous. Other times it's more subtle. We could have grown up in environments where sexuality was never discussed, where pleasure was treated as selfish or where certain types of desire were clearly unwelcome.

I've found that sexual shame often intersects with other forms of shame too. If you learned early that your needs didn't matter, that taking up space was wrong, you were “weird” for what you enjoyed or that you were "too much" in general then those messages likely extended to your sexual self as well. Shame is a particularly persistent weed that spreads into every corner of our self-concept.

The cost of carrying shame

Living with sexual shame is so exhausting. It disconnects us from our bodies, limits our capacity for pleasure and creates barriers in our most intimate relationships and with ourselves. When we're convinced there's something wrong with our desires, we can suppress them in many ways (hello,low libido or even difficulty with arousal) or pursue them while drowning in guilt and self-judgment which leads to a plethora of unconscious issues in our day to day lives and interactions.

Sexual shame also impacts our ability to communicate authentically about what we want and need. How can we ask for something we believe we shouldn't want? How can we explore our sexuality when we're convinced we're fundamentally flawed?

Many studies and discussions on vulnerability show us that shame thrives in secrecy and silence. The more we hide our sexual selves, the more power shame has over us. Meanwhile, authentic connection, which requires us to be seen and accepted as we truly are, becomes nearly impossible when we're convinced our true selves are unacceptable.

How shame shows up in our intimate lives

Sexual shame is sneaky. It doesn't always announce itself with dramatic self-flagellation (though sometimes it does). More often, it shows up as that little voice that makes you turn off the lights during sex. Sometimes it may apologise for taking too long to reach orgasm or even pretend to reach orgasm, other times it may show up feeling weird and dirty about enjoying certain fantasies.

I've noticed shame often disguises itself as practicality. "I don't have time for pleasure" or "I'm too tired for sex" might sometimes be shame saying "I don't deserve pleasure" or "my sexuality is wrong and a burden". Obviously, sometimes we genuinely are tired or busy, but when these become constant refrains it's worth examining what's underneath it all.

Shame also shows up in how we relate to our partners' sexuality. If we judge our own desires harshly, we're likely to judge others too. We might feel threatened by a partner's fantasies, uncomfortable with their enthusiasm, or convinced that their sexual interests somehow reflect poorly on us. We may react in judgmental ways to their sexual expression or go as far as to shut it down to feel safe within ourselves. This costs us authentic connection and projects shame onto the other. Although most of us never intend this, it's perpetual and painful for everyone involved.

My professional observations on shame

In my work as an escort and intimacy provider I've witnessed firsthand how sexual shame impacts people's ability to connect with themselves and others. Many clients come to me carrying decades of messages that their desires are wrong, their bodies are inadequate or their sexuality is somehow problematic.

What breaks my heart is how often people apologize for wanting what they want. They'll say things like "I'm sorry, this is probably really weird, but..." before sharing completely healthy human desires. It's as if they need permission to be sexual beings, which is something we all innately deserve without having to ask.

I've seen shame manifest as difficulty staying present during intimate moments, an inability to communicate desires clearly, projecting judgment onto other people's sexual experiences or a tendency to prioritize their partner's experience while completely neglecting their own. Some people are so disconnected from their own pleasure that they genuinely don't know what feels good to them anymore and in rare cases never have at all.

But what gives me the most hope is that I've witnessed the incredible transformation that happens when someone experiences shame-free acceptance of their sexuality and support of exploring their desires. When people realise they can be desired exactly as they are and when their curiosities are met with enthusiasm rather than judgment, it's like witnessing someone finally exhale after holding their breath for decades.

The difference between healthy boundaries and shame

One thing that often confuses people is the difference between having healthy sexual boundaries and operating from shame. Healthy boundaries come from self-respect and clear values. They're about honoring what feels authentic and safe for you. Shame-based boundaries come from fear and self-judgment and they're about avoiding anything that might confirm our worst beliefs about ourselves.

For example, choosing not to engage in certain sexual activities because they don't align with your values or desires is healthy. Avoiding those same activities because you think wanting them makes you a bad person is shame. The difference is whether your choices come from self-love or self-punishment.

Research on sexual health emphasises that shame-free sexuality isn't about doing everything or having no limits, it's actually about making choices from a place of self-respect rather than self-judgment. It's the difference between "I don't want to do that" and "I shouldn't want to do that".

Reclaiming your sexual story

One of the most powerful steps in overcoming sexual shame is recognising that you get to write your own story about your sexuality. Those messages you internalised about what's normal, acceptable, or valuable were not hard facts, they were just the opinions of people who had their own shame and limitations and projected them onto you.

You get to decide what sexuality means to you. You get to determine what brings you pleasure, what makes you feel connected and what aligns with your values. This isn't about throwing caution to the wind or abandoning all boundaries, it's truly about making conscious choices based on your own wisdom rather than inherited shame.

I've found it helpful to literally rewrite my sexual story. Some questions I ask myself are:

• What messages did I receive about sexuality growing up?

• Which ones serve me now and which ones need to be updated?

• What would I want someone I love to believe about their sexuality?

• How would I approach my sexual self if I treated myself with the same compassion I offer others?

This is a way to really reflect and access the truth of what you truly desire, and where your shame stemmed from.

How self-compassion can encourage healing

Research on self-compassion reveals that treating ourselves with kindness is far more effective for creating positive change than self-criticism. Yet when it comes to sexuality many of us become our own harshest critics. We judge our bodies, our desires, our performance and our worth with a brutality we'd never direct at anyone else.

Healing sexual shame requires learning to speak to ourselves differently. Instead of "I'm disgusting for wanting that", we could say "I'm human for having desires and every person is different". Instead of "My body is wrong", we might practice saying "All bodies have inherent worth, including mine". Instead of thinking "I should be ashamed" we can explore thinking "I'm learning to accept myself".

This isn't about toxic positivity or pretending everything is perfect. It's about extending the same basic kindness to ourselves that we'd offer a good friend who was struggling. Self-compassion doesn't mean lowering standards, it means raising the quality of our internal dialogue to develop a healthier relationship with ourselves.

Breaking the silence

Shame and vulnerability studies show us that shame cannot survive being spoken. When we share our struggles with trusted people and receive empathy in return, shame begins to lose its power over us. But sexual shame often feels too vulnerable to share, which keeps us trapped in cycles of secrecy and self-judgment.

Finding safe people to talk honestly about sexuality with can be life-changing. This might be a trusted friend, a therapist who specialises in sexual health, a support group or even online communities where people share openly about their experiences. The goal isn't to overshare or make others uncomfortable, it's to break the isolation that shame requires to survive.

When I witness clients sharing something they've never spoken aloud before and I meet them with warmth and non-judgment, I often see their whole body language change. There's something powerful about saying "This is part of me" and having someone respond with acceptance and even enthusiasm.

Practical steps

Start with curiosity, not judgment. When you notice sexual shame arising, try getting curious about it instead of fighting it. What's this shame trying to protect you from? What messages is it carrying? What would it mean to thank it for trying to keep you safe while also questioning whether its protection is still needed?

Practice body appreciation. Sexual shame often targets our bodies specifically. Try speaking to your body the way you'd want someone you love to speak to theirs, or even how you would speak to them. Notice what your body can do rather than just how it looks. Practice gratitude for the pleasure it can experience, the life it can live and the connections it makes possible.

Reclaim your desires. Start by simply acknowledging what you actually want without immediately judging whether it's appropriate or achievable. Your desires are information about what brings you alive and they deserve to be heard, even if you choose not to act on all of them.

Communicate from authenticity. Practice sharing your actual experience rather than what you think you should be experiencing. This might mean admitting when something doesn't feel good, asking for what you want or simply being honest about your level of arousal or interest.

Seek shame-free education. Learn about sexuality from sources that treat it as a normal, healthy part of human experience rather than something shameful or scary. Knowledge can be incredibly liberating when it comes from a place of respect for your autonomy and wellbeing.

The ripple effects of sexual empowerment

What I find most exciting about healing sexual shame is how it impacts every other area of life. When you stop believing there's something fundamentally wrong with your desires, you become more willing to advocate for yourself in all contexts. When you learn to appreciate your body, you might find yourself taking up space more confidently and when you practice authentic communication about sexuality, you often become more honest in all your relationships.

Sexual empowerment isn't just about having better sex (though that's certainly a pleasant side effect). It's about reclaiming your right to be a full, complex human being whose desires, pleasure and autonomy matter. It's about refusing to shrink yourself to fit into boxes that were never meant to contain the beautiful complexity of who you are.

Research on erotic development suggests that people who have healthy relationships with their sexuality tend to be more creative, more connected to their bodies and more willing to pursue what brings them alive in all areas of life. When we stop wasting energy hiding from our sexual selves, we have so much more energy available for everything else.

What you deserve to know

You are not broken. Your desires are not wrong. Your body is not a problem to be solved. Your curiosity about pleasure doesn't make you dirty, slutty, or bad, it in fact makes you human.

You deserve to experience your sexuality without shame and to feel pleasure without guilt. You deserve to ask for what you want without apologising for wanting it and to be seen and accepted as the beautifully complex sexual being you are.

The journey from sexual shame to empowerment isn't always linear and it's rarely quick. There will be many moments when old shame patterns resurface and you may question whether you really deserve the pleasure and connection you're creating. That's normal! Healing happens in layers, not all at once. Your brain will need time to rewire and solidify these new neural pathways.

But every small step toward self-acceptance matters. Every moment of choosing self-compassion over self-judgment, every conversation where you speak your truth, every time you honor your desires instead of hiding them all adds up to a life where your sexuality becomes a source of empowerment.

Your sexual self is not separate from your "real" self, it's an integral part of who you are. And who you are, desires and all, is worthy of love, respect and celebration. The world needs more people who are comfortable with their own sexuality, who can speak openly about pleasure and desire. People who refuse to shrink themselves to make others comfortable as this creates happier and healthier people, relationships, families and lives.

Breaking free from sexual shame isn't just personal healing, it's a radical act that makes space for others to do the same. And in my opinion that's exactly the kind of revolution the world needs more of.

The following research papers were cited

• Lewis, H. B. (1971). Shame and Guilt in Neurosis. International Universities Press, New York.

• Brown, B. (2006). Shame resilience theory: A grounded theory study on women and shame. Families in Society, 87(1), 43-52.

• Tangney, J. P., & Dearing, R. L. (2002). Shame and Guilt. Guilford Press.

• Saunders, M. A. (2021). The Serial Mediation of the Relationship between Sexual Shame and Marital Relationship Satisfaction. Doctoral Dissertation, Liberty University.

• Neff, K. D. (2003). Self-compassion: An alternative conceptualization of a healthy attitude toward oneself. Self and Identity, 2(2), 85-101.