In January, I embark on my annual tradition of immersing myself in books that deviate from the typical “new year, new me” narrative. After last year’s fascination was with Will Smith’s autobiography, this year I chose to explore “The Sex Lives of African Women” by Nana Darkoa Sekyiamah, a book that had piqued my curiosity for some time. Contrary to my initial expectations. Within the first few pages of the book, I realized that what I was expecting from the book vs. the actual book was worlds apart, in an interesting way.
“The Sex Lives of African Women” by Nana Darkoa Sekyiamah is a compelling exploration of the diverse and resilient narratives influencing the sexual experiences of African women. Sekyiamah fearlessly delves into the complexities of desire and intimacy through a collection of stories. In this unapologetic book, she brings attention to the multifaceted nature of their experiences, contributing to a broader and more nuanced understanding of the intricacies surrounding African women’s sexuality. This was an essential platform for their voices to be heard.
Self-Discovery
The first chapter titled “Self-discovery,” had my jaw metaphorically on the floor for the first 115 pages or so. What began as a soft landing with the first two or three stories took an unexpected turn, delving into provocative sexual experiences. The common thread weaving through these narratives was the exploration of polyamory and kink, with a spotlight on BDSM—encompassing various erotic practices, roleplaying, and the intricacies of bondage, discipline, dominance and submission, and sadomasochism. Each story unfolds with meticulous detail, unraveling the origins of their curiosity for these fetishes and illustrating how the experiences profoundly shaped their sexual journeys. The chapter serves as an eye-opening plunge, one that had me saying “WTF” with each page that I turned.
One story that stood out was Helen and her husband, they give us a fascinating glimpse into their unconventional journey. The couple describe themselves as swingers, actively seeking like-minded individuals to explore with. She also speaks about how they embrace an open marriage, where the only request from her husband is a simple notification whenever she develops an interest in someone, regardless of gender. Helen opens up about losing herself in the depths of motherhood, and when granted the freedom to explore, she takes a plunge into a world of wild experiences, including delving into BDSM and various other kinky pursuits. You have to read her story for yourself.
It Got Better…
Navigating through the self-discovery chapter was a challenge, prompting me to question whether I had read enough. However, after a friendly challenge from my confidant to complete the book and write a review, I pressed on. The second chapter, called “Freedom,” brought a refreshing shift in tone. The stories felt less exaggerated, bringing on a sense of wholesomeness. Wholesomeness in that the center stage in this chapter was pleasure more than discovery, with stories that delved into self-pleasure and alternative sources of joy that lead to great sex. Simple yet profound pleasure found in home-cooked food with a partner, was followed by orgasms. The shift offered a nuanced perspective, revealing the diverse ways in which women can seek and find freedom and fulfillment in their intimate lives without the kinky stuff.
One story that stood out is a story by Gabriela, she speaks about how discovered new things by touching herself, not just the genitalia, the whole body. This included massaging her head, rubbing oils into her skin, experiencing a nice scent and then focusing on the genitalia and clitoris. Before she got here, she made a decision to be celibate for a while to tend to her spiritual wellbeing. She started to meditate regularly and later sex felt easier, and more natural. There’s a homosexual couple in their 70’s who spoke in a similar tone. They speak about how their greatest turn-on originates from the smallest acts of love, which lead to years of shared orgasms. This narrative beautifully celebrates enduring passion in later stages of life.
The last chapter, Healing
In this chapter, a powerful vulnerability emerged as women courageously shared stories they had never told anyone before. Many expressed a poignant and deeply personal struggle: the internal conflict of convincing themselves that they were not victims of rape. This self-denial was a coping mechanism that shielded them from the immediate trauma. However, as the narratives unfolded, it became apparent that this initial denial had profound and lasting effects on their relationships and their capacity to derive pleasure from subsequent sexual experiences. The abuse took place from partners, guardians, school teachers, and trusted adults. The stories in this chapter were heartbreaking, and unfortunately it’s a reality for many women.
One story that stood out, Tafadzwa spoke about losing her virginity at age 13. At age 16 she was having sex with older men. Married men, men who were bosses, ministers, and heads of state unit. By the age of seventeen, she says she had a voracious appetite for sex and she started masturbating which helped her to become more confident. But Tafadza realized later in her life that sleeping with older men was actually statutory rape, she was in no position to make a wise decision at the age of 16 and the older men took advantage of that. She also speaks about how she has felt sexualized her whole life because of her “big bum and big boobs”. That still doesn’t excuse the abuse she endured.
And finally…
What did I expect from the book? I expected to read about women sharing their experiences with sex (I mean the title says it all). Instead I was pleasantly (and sometimes uncomfortably) met by stories of reproductive health, sex education, LGBTQ+ experiences, and the impact of culture and religion on ones sexual identity. Sekyiamah skillfully weaved personal stories that created a narrative that is thought-provoking. The result is a book that not only educates but also sparks essential conversations about the intricacies of African women’s sexual lives.
What do I now do with all that I know? Nothing, except appreciate my sex life. A little detail I might add is how pole dancing has helped me appreciate where I am. Maybe I should offer to be in Sekyiamah’s second edition, if there’ll ever be a second edition.
Have you read the book?
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