we are not responsible for our desires ~ only for the way we meet them.
trigger warning: language of sexual abuse and violance
desire is not a choice
desire is not something we choose. it arises, often uninvited, mysterious, disruptive, or tender. it pulses in our bodies, flares through our imaginations, or simmers quietly beneath our skin. desire is human, ancient, sometimes inconvenient. and yet, deeply alive and part of our reality. and still, so many of us carry shame about what we want. we worry we’re too much, too weird, too dark. or that wanting in itself is a betrayal, of our partners, of our values, of how we were taught to be good.
but here is the invitation: we are not responsible for what we desire. only for how we meet it.
this simple truth bears the potential of unhooking us from shame and re-anchoring us in sovereignty. desire is not a choice. desire is a current. what we do with it, that’s where our responsibility, maturity, and freedom lives.
the messy beauty of becoming
getting in touch with desire in certain contexts has been a layered journey for me. one example is my way of relating romantically and exploring my sexuality. after a series of monogamous tryouts (for the most part of my love life), i have been exploring my queerness during a long-term open heterosexual relationship, which evolved out of a primarily monogamous relationship. it was also the beginning of exploring kink more intentionally and taking my first steps into non-monogamy, which gradually led me to identify as polyamorous. facing my desire to explore and navigate these worlds involved a lot of unlearning, deconditioning, and confronting deeply ingrained beliefs. i faced severe challenges around insecurities and shame, leading to hurtful fuck-ups here and there that stemmed from a lack of transparency or communication, often rooted in fear, shame and validation seeking. along the way, i began understanding my desires more clearly and found myself repeatedly confronted with the need for deeper honesty, vulnerability, and repair. it’s been a messy, beautiful, and humbling path of self-acceptance. one that continues to shape how i relate to myself and others with more intention, compassion, and care.
how systems shape desire and shame
i have been carrying shame for a long time around many aspects of sexuality. sharing about sexuality itself, my genitals, my ways of relating, kinks and fetishes that might be edgy or taboo to other people. we learn to fear desire early. in the systems we grow up in ~ patriarchy, religion, family, heteronormativity ~ we’re taught that desire must be controlled, hidden, or denied. that it’s dangerous, predatory, deviant. that certain longings are impure, and others simply don’t exist.
and so desire becomes distorted by shame. desire for pleasure. desire for others. desire for freedom. desire for power, for surrender, for taboo. we internalize the belief that something is wrong with us. that if we feel this, we must be broken. or worse, that if we tell the truth about what turns us on, no one will want us. but shame is not native to desire. it is learned. and it lives in the places where honesty has been forbidden.
desire begins in the body
when we begin to reconnect to desire, the first thing we might notice is: it lives in the body. not in thought, but in sensation. a flicker, a tingling, a warmth, a tightness in the chest, a low hum in the pelvis. if we pause and listen ~ not react, not indulge, not judge, just notice ~ we learn that desire is first and foremost a felt experience. it doesn’t ask to be acted upon. it asks to be acknowledged. and from there, we can choose how we meet it. that choice matters. some desires feel innocent, like the desire for holding someone’s hand, the desire for a kiss with your crush, the desire to be alone, the desire to speak up and share your truth. but some desires might bring up fear. or disgust. or the quiet terror that we’re not as good or innocent or lovable as we hoped. these are the desires that live in our shadow.
shadow desires: the parts we hide
the parts of us that long to dominate. or submit. the inner predator. the masochist. the part that wants to be humiliated, worshipped, used. the part that has fantasies we would never speak aloud, because they threaten the identity we’ve carefully built. but here’s the thing about the shadow: when it is hidden, it has power over us. when it is seen and brought to the light, it becomes part of our wholeness.
kinks, fetishes, and what we might think is “too much”
so many of us carry secret arousals that we judge ourselves for. kinks and fetishes that don’t fit the script. that don’t align with the “healthy,” “spiritual,” or “respectable” version of who we think we should be. we might get turned on by:
being spanked, choked, degraded, worshipped, tied up and suspended
watching or being watched
feet, leather, latex, uniforms
breath play, role play, power play, age play, religious play, consensual non-consent
tentacles, monsters, breeding, pet play
scenarios that would be illegal or unethical in real life
and many more…
these things don’t make us bad. they make us human. a kink is an arousal that exists outside the “norm” ~ playing with a personal or societal taboo. a fetish is a specific object or act that may become necessary for sexual arousal (e.g. latex, feet, shoes, hair etc.). both are common. both are natural. what matters is not what you want, but how you relate to that want. do you shame yourself for it? do you hide it and act it out unconsciously? or do you meet it with breath, with curiosity, with integrity?
communicating desire in relationship
in relationship, desire becomes even more tender. especially in long-term or monogamous partnerships, the emergence of new or “other” desires can feel threatening. we may silence ourselves out of fear of judgment, or guilt. we may hide our longings for different touch, different energies, different experiences; believing that naming them will hurt the people we love. but repression is not intimacy. and secrets slowly fracture connection. even in open or polyamorous relationships, naming desire can be scary. because it brings us face-to-face with our own fears of not being enough (or too much), of being left, of being seen in our rawness. but true connection requires truth-telling. not as a demand, not as a confessional, but as an offering:
“there’s something i feel. i don’t need it to happen. but i want to share it so you can know me more fully.”
when we speak from this place ~ not entitlement, not shame, but curiosity ~ we open space for intimacy to grow. and when our loved ones see and hear us without judgement (or even just with a willingness to try), we begin to rewrite the stories that desire equals danger. this can be fucking difficult and scary. i know. but if there is a safer environment to share and we are in a moment of courage, it will be liberating as fuck.
when desire feels dangerous
of course, some desires, if acted upon, would be harmful. some people experience fantasies that involve non-consent, minors, or other illegal realities. these are deeply taboo, and often surrounded by silence. but even here, the core truth remains: desire is not the same as action. fantasy is not consent. what arises in your body and mind is not the same as what you choose to do. there are ethical, trauma-informed professionals and communities that can support people in meeting even the most difficult desires without acting on them. this is not about condoning harm, it’s about reducing it, by creating spaces where honesty is possible before harm occurs.
find support now:
https://www.kein-taeter-werden.de
https://www.telefonseelsorge.de
desire as a teacher
to meet desire with maturity means to hold paradox. we can want something and choose not to do it. we can share something and not expect our partners to fulfill it (acknowledging the beauty of non-monogamy here). we can feel arousal without letting it define our identity. we can explore power, submission, taboo, kink, and still be grounded, ethical, and loving. desire is not a problem to solve. it’s a language our bodies speak. a map that points toward our wounds, our histories, our cravings, and sometimes our healing. we don’t need to purify ourselves to be worthy. we don’t need to exorcise our fantasies to be good. we need only to stay in relationship. with ourselves, with others, and with the life force that pulses underneath it all.
closing words
we are not wrong for what we want. we are not alone in what we carry. and we are allowed to know ourselves. not to indulge every desire, but to greet each one with breath, with honesty, and with care. because in the end, it’s not about having clean or acceptable desires. it’s about having the capacity to meet them consciously.
we are not responsible for our desires ~ only for the way we meet them. and in that meeting, there is liberation.
somatic practices to explore desire & shadow
these practices are meant to support deeper self-awareness and embodiment around desire, especially when it feels complex, confusing, or taboo. each one invites curiosity, not judgment. go slowly, and let your body lead.
1. tracking the somatic landscape of desire
purpose: to notice how desire feels in the body without needing to act on it.
how to practice:
sit or lie down in a quiet space. take a few slow breaths.
bring to mind a fantasy, desire, or person that usually evokes arousal, or one that feels mysterious or charged.
let the image or thought hover in your awareness. then drop attention into the body.
ask:
“where do i feel this in my body?”
“what is the shape, texture, or movement of this sensation?”
“does it want to move, expand, hide, or be witnessed?”
just stay with the sensations. don’t push or analyze or try to go somewhere. let your body teach you.
tip: keep a journal nearby. naming sensations and emotions can help create a sense of safety and clarity.
2. shadow dialogue: meeting the inner critic or predator
purpose: to bring awareness and relationship to parts of you that hold taboo or judgment around desire.
how to practice:
take 10–15 minutes to move or shake the body to release surface tension.
sit down with pen and paper.
gently invite a shadow part to come forward, e.g., the critic who shames your kink, the predator who wants to dominate, or the part that feels “wrong” for wanting what it wants.
let it speak. write from that voice:
“i am the part of you who…”
“what i’m afraid of is…”
“what i need is…”
then, respond from your witnessing self:
“i hear you. i understand you. you don’t have to run the show, but you are welcome here.”
tip: this is not about indulging the shadow, but witnessing it with compassion and boundaries.
3. the pause: desire without action
purpose: to create space between feeling a desire and choosing what to do with it.
how to practice:
when a strong desire, impulse, or fantasy arises (especially one that feels edgy or shameful), practice pausing for 90 seconds before doing anything.
during the pause, breathe. stay with the energy without judging or suppressing it.
ask:
“is this desire asking to be acted on? or witnessed?”
“what would be the most self-connected way to meet this feeling right now?”
“what is underneath the arousal, loneliness? power? play? grief?”
tip: desire is often layered. slowing down reveals the complexity underneath the urge.
4. spoken transparency practice (with a partner or friend)
purpose: to speak desire or shame aloud without needing to fix, justify, or be met with solutions.
how to practice:
sit facing your partner or a trusted friend. set a timer for 5–10 minutes.
one person speaks, the other listens without interrupting, reacting, or fixing.
share something that feels vulnerable:
“there’s something i want to say about my desire…”
“a part of me feels ashamed when i think about…”
“what i want, but haven’t dared to name, is…”
the listener only responds with:
“thank you for sharing. i’m here. i hear you.”
then switch roles.
tip: this can also be done with yourself in a mirror or voice recording if no partner is available.
final words
working with desire somatically means creating space for truth without collapse, for curiosity without performance, and for complexity without shame. these practices invite into deeper intimacy, not just with others, but with the full spectrum of who you are. you are not responsible for what you feel. you are responsible for how you meet it. let the body speak. let the breath slow you down. let desire become a path, not to control or indulge, but to understand.
by dennis obanla
july 2025
