Last weekend, Dustin and I went to see our friend Judy‘s play, It Didn’t Happen: An Erotic Odyssey at a local theater downtown. It’s an autobiographical piece she wrote and starred in, directed by Phillipe Andre Coquet of the Cauldron Theater Company. They debuted it at the Asheville Fringe Arts Festival in January, and then it got picked up by a local theater and is running for two weekends downtown – pretty amazing!! Her face was on the big digital marquee in front of the theater, so naturally, we had to take a selfie under it. I’m so proud of her and the creative work she’s doing. Especially what she’s doing. It takes courage. It takes vulnerability. And it takes a hell of a lot of hard work. But her intent is true – to be seen, truly, no holds-barred, so that others can allow themselves to be seen, too.

The content of the play might not be for everyone. In fact, when I heard what it’s about, I got a little nervous thinking, “OMG I wanna support her but can I do this?? Don’t be a prude, Kim!” Haha. Attending definitely required me to step outside of my comfort zone, but in a good way. In a way that felt natural and safe. The play is her story – her “coming out” if you will. It’s a tale of her journey through life as a straight-presenting woman (with the complete package of male partners and kids) while having “run-ins” with various woman throughout different stages of her life. Her stories with these women show the struggle of defining your own sexual identity, especially with things like labels and being put on the spot to define who you are when you’re still trying to figure it out for yourself. It shows how impactful our own sexual identity is in our lives, and it allows space for desire – however it may show up for you in your own life. While it documents her sexual encounters with these women, it gives breath to the common pressure we feel around our sexual identity. Tales of either being “too much” or “not enough” leave us questioning who we are and who we want to be. It can lead to a lot of shame and guilt depending on how we process things. Judy reminds us that it’s ok to want what we want, and it’s ok to not understand what we want. Create a life that allows safe explorations of your desires, and you’ll figure everything else out along the way.

While the themes may be adult (yes, there is nudity and sexual situations), the most powerful and mind-blowing part of the production is Judy’s ability to show herself in all her different ages and stages, in all her vulnerability and realness. We see in her not only her story, but our own as well. By bearing her soul along with her body, the vulnerability and authenticity are palpable. She gives you the courage to show a little more of yourself as well, to dive a little deeper into your story and who you really are. She reminds us how real and sacred the exploration of our sexual identity is. Powerful. Magical. She has the courage to follow her desires, wherever that may take her and however far from societal norms she must run. We see her do this because she has learned the repercussions of not following her heart.

This play resonates with me so much because while I don’t feel like I need to “come out” about my sexuality, I am still coming to terms with it. I lived most of my life being so ashamed of my sexuality. My sex drive, masturbating, doing “everything but” with boys – I convinced myself I was an awful person, a fraud in terms of my Christianity. When masturbating came up in youth group talks, I just kept my head down and hoped the subject would change quickly. It was assumed that you don’t do it or have sex. If you considered either, you were off the path of righteousness, and God was not happy with you. (This may help explain why I married the preacher’s kid while still in college, before ever having sex or living together.) The church did not teach that our sexuality was part of our power and something to be praised – they told us it was something to be avoided – feared, even.

My guilt over masturbating was so strong that I couldn’t even admit it, not even in my journals. I literally couldn’t write the words down. I had to write a code word or something. There were so many devotional books I worked through that had so many “list out all of your deepest sins that you know you need to release to God” sorts of prompts, and watching porn (well, late-night Cinemax back in the day) and masturbating were always number one for me. I couldn’t even admit to my closest friends I did it. Even know, I get squeamish when my friends or husband joke with me about masturbating.

But guess what? I do it. I bet you do, too. Most people do. My four year old does even though he doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s natural. No need for shame.

Unfortunately, society doesn’t view sexuality in such a way. It’s ok for our kids to watch violence and blood in movies, but show two people making love, and everyone loses their shit. … It makes no sense. Sex is magic. Sex is powerful. Sex is divine. The more we oppress our natural desires, the more negatively it will affect us and society as a whole. That’s why so much deviance exists. Pedophilia, rape, molestation – much stems from oppression and sexual suppression. I’m not saying go sleep with everyone you see and be irresponsible. Be smart and safe, and follow your heart and soul. If it feels right, it probably is.

A decade into my relationship with my husband, and I’m still learning things about desire and releasing old oppressive belief systems. Shedding the old and allowing the new. Connecting within and following my inner truth. No longer allowing others to tell me what’s best for me. Only I get to decide that.

*PS – You get another chance to see It Didn’t Happen this weekend! Tickets are available online through the Wortham Center for the Performing Arts. Do it!!! 🙂