I wonder who my grandmama had a crush on when she was 16 in 1948 before she met my papa. I wonder what my mama felt when she first flirted with a boy in the 1970s before she met my daddy. I wonder what my future daughter’s sensual playtime will look like, some 15 years from now when the world will be different, yet again.

Black girlhood - that time between 8 and 18 - is so rich and important to the sensual and sexual development of our Black womanhood. There are just so many competing messages flying around Black girls exclaiming who they should and shouldn’t be. In just about every part of the world, and every religion, there are sermons that preach to young Black girls that if they make even the slightest fuck up with this boy¹ they are doomed to live a life with a shitty baby daddy, gonorrhea or some other infection, and/or they’ll become the dreaded “whore” or “dyke.”² And yet, the gag is, sexuality and sensuality during Black girlhood is often so sophisticated! It’s often so full of knowing, and curiosity, and astute observations. If only we remembered how to honor the richness of that time and all that we actually knew back then.

Take me as an example. It’s the summer of 1995. I’m 13. I’m in love with this Puerto Rican boy who is fine as frog hair³. D’Angelo, my favorite musician to this day, has just released his debut album, Brown Sugar.  And on that album D’Angelo remade “Cruisin’,” which was originally sung by Smokey Robinson in 1979. I had heard Smokey’s version at least 30 times and it didn’t move me in any seismic way. But when I tell you something about the way D’Angelo sang that line, “I could just stay there inside you and love you baby,” shook me way down in my vagina and had me saying to my young self, “I don’t know what he talkin’ ‘bout, but I know what he talkin’ ‘bout!” 

More than knowing-but-not-really-knowing what D’Angelo was talking about with that line, what I did know is that when I did begin my intimate life, I wanted to make love like that. In this deeply spiritual, connected way. I knew that I wanted a lover who made me feel like that line did—all grown up, womanly, sexy, and the opposite of awkward. And since we telling “Big Girl Truths” here today, it’s important to note that my first love/boyfriend, the guy that I had consensual sex with for the first time, that fine Puerto Rican boy, was all of that for me. We were both virgins and I could not have had a more sweet, sensual, tailored, intimate, or caring “first time.” I believe the reason that that experience was as good to me as it was, was because I was listening to my intuition heavy at that time for most of my decisions. My intuition is one of the only things that helped me navigate all of the mixed messages⁴ about sex, boys, and love at that time. 

I knew, internally, that there was something I could trust about this young man, and that even in his immature teenage ways, he, too, was maturing sexually and figuring out this intimacy thing. I felt he would be good to me when it was time to get naked. But no one in my life was affirming that I could make such a good and complex decision like that. Actually, the exact opposite was being said by all the adults around me. And I don’t believe that the adults around me thought I was incapable of making good and complex decisions. It’s just that most adults don’t believe young people are capable of “good and healthy” sexual decision-making because they “haven’t lived yet.” As a young person, I heard the public health messages about "consistently and correctly" using a condom, and I was a faithful condom user in that relationship and for the next 25 years. I made the "good" decisions, and that wasn’t enough: I still had to grow older to have my Black girl wisdom esteemed.

But that’s just it: a lot of the “bad” and “good” habits, preferences, joy, and pleasure that we experience in our Black womanhood are directly connected to experiences from our Black girlhood. Some of the sensual and sexual experiences from our Black girlhood have to be healed in our Black womanhood. And some of the sensual and sexual decisions from our Black girlhood should be elevated to a standard of sensual intimacy in our Black womanhood (cue the line from “Doo-Wop (That Thing)” by Lauryn Hill: “Baby girl, respect is just the minimum.”). 

I pray that we all feel empowered to (re)visit our Black girlhood in search of the dreams and ideas we held about our sensual selves and the sensual world that was waiting on us after we left our mama’s house. Because honestly, we were brilliant, complex and sophisticated, even then. 

¹You can place any gender here but for the moment I’m going to speak heterosexually.
²To be fair, a lot of parents are not nearly as bent out of shape about having a “gay” kid as they used to be in the 90’s.
³While I am from the deep south and this is something we would surely say, I first heard this colloquialism from my dear sistren C. Staten from Chicago. And since I believe deeply in citing Black women, I note her contribution here.
⁴For a bit of context, 1995 is also the year that Mary J. Blige sang “Not Gon’ Cry,” about being with a Black man for 11 years, giving him two kids, making him rich and after all that he leaves you for a white girl?! Tuh! Talk about mixed messages!

About the Author

Dr. LaShay Harvey, is a professor, seamstress, collage artist and Interim Associate Dean of Student Learning and Research in Graduate Studies at the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA). She has always been attracted to creation stories: those stories that tell how something became. LaShay’s work and career interrogates not only how something comes to be (that is to say, born or birthed) but also examines the narratives that surround birth and becoming. To this end, Dr. Havey holds a PhD in Human Sexuality Studies, and a Master’s Degree in Education. She has taught and trained on sexuality education for 20 years and has been inside the college classroom for 10 years where she has received teaching awards and fellowships. Her most recent course, taught at the Maryland Institute College of Art (MICA) entitled, “Narratives, Black Women & Art” was her pièce de résistance. She is also the creator and founder of Black Girl Saturday School® - an immersive experience where Black women and girls study themselves by studying the art of Black women. Dr. Harvey was born in Southeast Georgia and raised in Northeast Florida and this space and positionality informs everything she does -- and nothing -- all at the same time. Follow her work on Instagram.

About the Artist

Born in Canada and raised in China and the UK, Chelsea Jia Feng is an illustrator currently based in Brooklyn, New York. She studied BFA Illustration at SVA and Graphic Communication Design at Central St Martins London (UAL). On the weekend, she likes to scout out new bookstores in New York City. Follow Chelsea’s work on Instagram.