Let's Talk About Sex: Exploring Body Image, Trauma and Mental Health
By: Ashley Williams
At KIMBRITIVE, believe something radical yet simple: Black women deserve great sex—
sex that feels affirming, freeing, safe, and deeply pleasurable. That means having space to explore our desires, give and withdraw consent, and be cared for—in the bedroom and in the exam room.
But let’s be real: for many Black women, sex doesn’t always feel like joy or liberation.
Maybe it’s because of how we’ve been taught to see our bodies. Or the weight of trauma we carry, or the silence we’ve been forced into. Maybe it’s the mental and emotional toll of navigating intimacy when we’ve rarely been given the space to name our needs.
This conversation is about all of that and more.
Let’s get into it.
Beauty, Bias & the Black Body
Being born in the 90s has many perks, one of the biggest being that we experienced life before social media. Sure, social media has its benefits: it can inspire, educate, and connect. But it’s also a breeding ground for unhealthy comparisons.
Another unexpected perk of being a ’90s baby? Skipping the “heroin chic” body ideal that dominated the fashion industry and had an entire generation in a chokehold.
Throughout the years the “ideal” body type has shifted—first extremely thin, then “thick,” and now, as thin as Ozempic will allow. Meanwhile, in real life, the average American woman was once reported to be a size 14. By 2016, that number had grown to size 16 to 18, according to the Journal of Fashion Design, Technology & Education. But you wouldn’t know it by looking at the bodies most celebrated in the media. Take the recent Times Square sculpture Grounded in the Stars, a statue of an average-sized Black woman by artist Thomas J. Price. While the artist does explain his take and intention, the response has varied. It has been met with racist comments as well as comments calling the work a mockery of Black women. Some viewers, however, note that this statue is merely a reminder of the everyday Black woman— someone’s mom, aunty, or friend.
When an artist creates something, the interpretation that follows isn’t always predictable. The response to Grounded in the Stars is sadly typical. It’s yet another example of society’s discomfort with fuller bodies—especially Black ones. The term body dissatisfaction is often defined as “not meeting the ideal of thinness”. But for Black women, it is much deeper than that. The ideals we are instructed to strive for are still rooted in the ‘isms that plague America, like racism and colorism. Additionally we are told that certain western standards like body shape and facial features are better. In a recent study, researchers found that Black women were often criticized and mistreated because of their physical appearance, which included hair texture, skin tone and body shape (of course!).
Truthfully, Black women have never been allowed to just be. In America, who we “should” be has always been decided for us: lighter skin, a perm or more recently Type 3 curly hair, a smaller nose, and a slender body or 'slim thick’ (depending on who you ask!). But if you have dark skin, kinky hair, and a fuller figure, you’re made to feel like you exist outside of beauty altogether. America values whiteness. The further you are from that ideal, the more likely you are to face its layered ‘isms.
This has consequences. Black women experiencing body dissatisfaction may be more vulnerable to eating disorders and depression.
And yes, it affects our sex lives, too.
Body image plays a major role in how people show up in intimate settings. Research shows that people who feel more positively about their bodies often report greater sexual satisfaction. During the COVID-19 pandemic, many of us turned to food and rest as sources of comfort and survival. As bodies naturally changed, some folks began to view themselves differently. For many women—especially in a society that stigmatizes weight gain—this shift contributed to decreased feelings of attractiveness, increased sexual anxiety, and lowered desire or arousal.
But even with these challenges, Black women tend to report higher levels of body confidence than other groups. Despite all of the efforts to make us love ourselves less, in a survey conducted by Glamour magazine and L’Oréal, we reported higher self-esteem, often describing ourselves as successful and beautiful. That confidence? It’s not accidental—it’s resistance. It’s survival.
THE LEGACY OF TRAUMA
Black women live at the intersection of contradiction. We're deemed "undesirable" by Eurocentric beauty standards, yet hypersexualized at the same time. Make it make sense.
We’re told we don’t measure up, yet for centuries our bodies have been consumed, fetishized, and commodified to satisfy the male gaze. The legacy of slavery still lingers. If Black women were once viewed as property, it follows that no one felt responsible for our safety or well-being. When you're dehumanized and reduced to a sexual object, you're more vulnerable to violence. Nearly 1 in 5 Black women are survivors of rape, and 41% of Black women have experienced sexual coercion and other forms of unwanted sexual contact.
The aftermath of sexual trauma is far-reaching. It touches mental health, physical health, emotional well-being, and how we experience sex. Survivors are often left navigating fear, shame, anxiety, and guilt. Some lose interest in sex altogether. Others become celibate. As one woman shared in a study:
“I can’t say I really like having sex til this day. I mean I do but if I don’t have sex I’m okay um I learned how to satisfy myself but I was like almost 30 before I learned how to enjoy it.”
So yes, sex can be liberating, healing, safe, and deeply pleasurable—but it can also be painful, distressing, even terrifying. So how do we move forward? How do we begin to heal and reclaim pleasure?
By listening to survivors.
A 2023 study identified five key practices that helped survivors begin that journey: social support, communication, self-care, empowerment, and therapy. These are not quick fixes—but they are acts of resistance. And in a world that often demands our silence, survival itself is revolutionary. Pleasure still belongs to us.
THERAPY ENTERS THE CHAT
Body image struggles and sexual trauma don’t just affect how we see ourselves. It can deeply impact our mental health, strain our relationships, and interrupt our ability to experience joy. Shame, anxiety, or low self-worth can linger long after the moment has passed, reshaping how we show up in our bodies and in the bedroom. But healing is possible. And therapy can be a powerful place to start.
For those navigating body image struggles, therapies like Acceptance and Commitment Therapy (ACT) can be especially impactful. This talk-based, action-oriented approach helps loosen the grip of shame and self-judgment and redirect focus toward your values. ACT encourages clients to accept what can’t be changed, release obsessive thoughts about appearance, and invest in meaningful experiences—like connection, joy, and mindfulness. The goal isn’t to fix the body, but to shift the relationship with it.
For survivors of sexual trauma, working with a therapist who understands the nuances of trauma is essential. Several evidence-based therapies offer support:
Cognitive Behavioral Therapy (CBT) helps you unlearn distorted beliefs like “I’m not desirable” or “I don’t deserve intimacy.” You learn to replace those thoughts with affirming truths.
Trauma-Focused CBT is designed for kids and teens navigating trauma. It blends traditional talk therapy with trauma-informed tools to help them (and their caregivers) process what happened, manage tough emotions, and rebuild a sense of safety.
Prolonged Exposure (PE) Therapy supports survivors in gently facing painful memories or situations in a safe, structured way. Over time, this helps reduce fear, build resilience, and restore a sense of control.
Somatic Therapies help you reconnect with your body through movement, breathing, and body awareness—especially if you’ve felt numb, frozen, or disconnected after trauma.
Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR) and Narrative Therapy offer powerful ways to process sexual trauma, reframe your story, and regain agency over your pleasure.
Let’s be real: sex is layered.
While it should be a source of pleasure, connection, and joy, for many, it can bring anxiety, disconnection, or fear. Whether you’re learning to love your body or reclaiming intimacy after trauma—your experience is real. Your healing is valid. And you still deserve great sex.
If you're a Black woman navigating trauma, body image, or craving a deeper connection to yourself—Kyndred is here for you. We offer whole-person care that centers your mental, emotional, and sexual wellness—without shame, ever. Our services include affirming mental health support, expert vaginal care focused on prevention and tailored treatment, and inclusive sexual wellness care addressing everything from STI testing to low libido. Join the waitlist and step into a space designed for your confidence, health, and joy.
Ashley Williams is a Brooklyn-based writer and editor. Her interests include exploring health, wellness and beauty through the lens of Black women. In the last nine years she has gathered a wealth of experience in communications and social media management in the nonprofit sector, academia and most recently healthtech. Ashley earned a Bachelor's degree in Health & Exercise Science from Syracuse University and a Master’s degree in Publishing from Pace University.