WHEN RAGE BECOMES EROTIC: PLEASURE AS PROTEST

A GinkgoMinds Blog by Jo Oswin

They told you pleasure was soft. That it should be quiet, relaxed, pretty. That it belonged to the healed, the grateful, the serene.

But you’re not serene. You’re seething.

And for once, your body isn’t frozen. It’s alive.

There’s blood in your cheeks, heat in your chest, a low burn in your belly. You thought it was anger. But it’s more than that.

It’s hunger.It’s fire.It’s desire laced with a truth so sharp it cuts:

You want. And you will not apologise for it.

THE WORLD NEVER TAUGHT YOU TO WANT LOUDLY — ONLY TO ACHE QUIETLY

They taught you to be polite. To cross your legs. To be grateful for what you're given.

To never be too much.

And so your pleasure became small. Controlled. Contained. Strategic.

You learned to suppress your hunger in exchange for safety. You learned to smile through disappointment, to offer your body before it was ever truly yours.

Until one day, rage cracked the surface.

And underneath the silence was heat.

Not just pain. But power.

EROTIC POWER IS WHAT HAPPENS WHEN YOU STOP ASKING FOR PERMISSION

There is something holy in reclaiming your body not with carefulness, but with command.

Rage is not the opposite of love. It’s what rises when love has been violated too many times. When care was never reciprocated. When touch was taken, not chosen.

When your softness was exploited.

So no — this isn’t dysfunction.

This is your body saying:

“You don’t get to own me anymore.I decide when I open. I decide what turns me on. And I don’t need your approval to burn.”

PLEASURE, THEN, IS A FORM OF PROTEST

To let yourself want. To let yourself enjoy. To take up space in your erotic life without guilt, without justification, without making it palatable —is an act of rebellion.

Because the world doesn’t know what to do with a woman who wants on her own terms. Who doesn’t just desire — but owns her desire. Who doesn’t shrink when they call her wild. Who doesn’t flinch when they call her selfish.

A woman who feels rage and rides it into her own pleasureis not dangerous.

She’s free.

🖤 COACHING PROMPT:

WHERE HAS YOUR RAGE BEEN HIDING?

In your silence? In your tolerance?In the faked orgasms, the “I’m fine,” the careful compliance?

What would happen if you let it speak? If you let it roar instead of whisper?

Could you let yourself feel what you’ve been holding back —not to destroy, but to reclaim?

Write down this sentence and finish it without censoring yourself: “If I didn’t have to be good, I would…”

Then do something — even small — that honours that truth.

THIS IS WHERE THE WORK GETS HOLY

In my Patreon, we explore the sacred intersections of power, rage, desire, and healing.

We don’t tone it down. We don’t spiritualise away the fire. We learn how to listen to it — and turn it into sovereignty.

Inside the Who the Fuck Am I Becoming? workshop, we go deep into rage as medicine. Into pleasure that doesn’t require softness. Into sex that begins with truth, not performance.

You are not too much.Your erotic rage is not a flaw. It’s a flare in the dark saying: I am here. I survived. And I will feel everything I was never allowed to.

If you're burning — come burn with us.

You don’t need to be calm to be whole. You just need to be honest.

xx Josi