In February’s edition of the Highlander, Samantha Williams* shared her experiences regarding first times and sexual expectations for the Scotlight center spread. Here is the full transcript of the interview.

1. How did your first time compare to preconceived notions? Expectations versus reality?

I think there was a part of me that thought it would be something really sweet, you know? Like in the movies where you’re with someone you really like, and there are dim lights, and maybe there are candles and a love song. I think those are preconceived notions a lot of us are spoon-fed since we’re very young, especially with the emphasis placed on virginity and women’s sexuality in general. Anyways, that’s how it went down. The first time, my first time, whatever that even means, was completely awful. It happened in a back room at a party, both of us a little intoxicated, and therefore unable to consent. The guy did nothing for me, barely looked me in the eye after it was over and then texted me later that night saying that we were just friends. I felt kind of awful and used, and typically don’t even like to consider that my “first time”, but it serves to show the stark contrast between the expectations hetero-patriarchy had set, and what actually went down. I think there’s this really interesting dichotomy between like, virginal bride and complete whore, and you get one or the other depending on like, who you’re with, and what material conditions told you to do. 

2. Where have you gotten these preconceived notions?

I think there are a few major parties at work here, two that I think are more generally recognized. The biggest factor, the one I think we’re both thinking of, is porn. With these types of videos, it’s impossible to ignore the way they provide a certain script on the way things are supposed to go down, the way we’re supposed to act and look, and the way it looks like it feels. The expectation on looks is especially emphasized to women, as we’re typically expected to conform to a certain body type, in general. I’m talking amounts of body hair, skin tone, hell, even how genitals and breasts are supposed to look like. I think porn is fundamentally harmful for so many reasons, as it not only contributed to and normalized violence and abuse against women, it sets harmful and genuinely unrealistic standards for what sex is supposed to be.

3. Have you watched porn? If so, when and how did you discover it? How has it affected your ideas revolving around sex? Has watching porn resulted in any performance anxiety for you?

I have watched and been exposed to a lot of explicit content, as it honestly is very hard to avoid when you’re a young teen on the internet. I don’t watch porn anymore, or ever engage with it the way my peers informed me they did, as I’ve held the view from a pretty young age that porn is fundamentally oppressive. Anyways, I was first exposed to it on Tumblr, while running a fan account for a book series I really enjoyed when I was like 12 years old. I didn’t actively search out for that type of content, but once I knew it was there it was hard to ignore. To me, the content being displayed was so crass and far removed from anything I knew it was like a morbid fascination, but there was a lot of shame surrounding what I would look at, even if I didn’t completely understand what it was. I don’t believe that I’m better than anyone to say that porn has not influenced the way I view sex, especially sex with women. Lesbian sex is portrayed in such an unrealistic way that when I finally got into a relationship with a girl I really liked, we had to first figure out what was complete crap to move forward. Women, and sex between women, is presented within the gaze of men in the porn industry, and therefore distorts the interaction that actually takes place, especially for two girls still figuring out their sexuality. I don’t necessarily think I had performance anxiety, I mean I sort of knew what to do, especially with boys. My biggest struggle was shame, I was so ashamed. I knew the sort of content the boys I was getting with were watching, the way that content hypersexualized women to the point they just seemed like objects of entertainment. I just felt weird thinking if they felt the same way about me and my body and what we were doing as they felt about porn.

4. Is sex often discussed among your peers? If so, what does the conversation typically consist of?

I personally would never get into a relationship with someone who regularly engages with pornography and most of the people that I choose to interact with share the view that porn is what it is, harmful. Therefore, most of our conversations surrounding the subject serve as a critic of its long-lasting effects and contributions to violence and subjugation against women.

5. Porn typically glorifies violence. What part do you think it plays in perpetuating toxic masculinity in teenagers?

This is an especially good point, and also one of my biggest critiques of the industry. Porn does not simply glorify violence, it glorifies and normalizes violence of men against women. Most porn or popular porn contains some sort of slapping or choking or hairpulling, things that are now mostly accepted to be part of sex and not boundaries to be discussed with your partner, something that needs to be consented to. I think it serves to teach young boys that this sort of taking, this violence, is okay, is something they are allowed to do, something women want and expect from them. And that is seriously dangerous for their development and the way they view and interact with women as they grow.

See her story in the February edition.

*In accordance with Carlmont’s Anonymous Sourcing Policy, this name has been changed to protect the anonymity of the source.