Somewhere along the way, most of us forgot what a true hell yes feels like.
We learned to override our own “no” before we even knew what consent was. It started with little things—“Give your uncle a hug” instead of “Do you want to?”—and it followed us into adulthood. Into our relationships. Into our intimacy. Into the way we show up in the world.
And for many women, especially those who have experienced sexual trauma, the confusion runs even deeper. We might feel a rush of excitement, a spark of sexual energy, and think, Yes, this is what I want. But as Sophia shared in our conversation, sometimes that “yes” is shaped by survival patterns—an echo of past harm, a draw toward the familiar, even if it’s not nourishing.
12,000 years of patriarchy has shaped women’s arousal for survival. It taught us to seek safety in dominance. To confuse love with inconsistency. To find comfort in control, even when that control came with pain. These patterns get baked into our bodies, and for so many of us, they shape what we think desire is supposed to feel like.
So how do we find the real hell yes?
The one that’s not distorted by conditioning, survival, or someone else’s expectations?
We start by listening differently.
We come home to our own sacred space—hands wandering over our own skin, music that moves us, breath that softens the edges. We let what wants to happen, happen. No agenda. No performance. Not manufactured fantasy pulled from the mediaY or someone else’s body. Just the wisdom of our bodies leading the way.
In this space, receptivity becomes a practice.
One that feels foreign to many women at first.
Because we’ve been trained to give, to do, to perform. But here, we practice being in softness, in receiving—not in relation to someone else, but in relation to ourselves.
It’s in these smallest moments—a gentle stroke, a deep breath—that we begin to unlock the ancient codes of the feminine. These codes have been dormant for far too long, waiting for us to remember.
Because your hell yes isn’t just about pleasure.
It’s about sovereignty.
It’s about truth.
It’s about knowing yourself so deeply that anything less than a full-body yes simply won’t do.
And when you find that yes, it becomes a compass—guiding you back to the woman you’ve always been.
Are you ready to remember her?
You’re in the right place.
We learned to override our own “no” before we even knew what consent was. It started with little things—“Give your uncle a hug” instead of “Do you want to?”—and it followed us into adulthood. Into our relationships. Into our intimacy. Into the way we show up in the world.
And for many women, especially those who have experienced sexual trauma, the confusion runs even deeper. We might feel a rush of excitement, a spark of sexual energy, and think, Yes, this is what I want. But as Sophia shared in our conversation, sometimes that “yes” is shaped by survival patterns—an echo of past harm, a draw toward the familiar, even if it’s not nourishing.
12,000 years of patriarchy has shaped women’s arousal for survival. It taught us to seek safety in dominance. To confuse love with inconsistency. To find comfort in control, even when that control came with pain. These patterns get baked into our bodies, and for so many of us, they shape what we think desire is supposed to feel like.
So how do we find the real hell yes?
The one that’s not distorted by conditioning, survival, or someone else’s expectations?
We start by listening differently.
We come home to our own sacred space—hands wandering over our own skin, music that moves us, breath that softens the edges. We let what wants to happen, happen. No agenda. No performance. Not manufactured fantasy pulled from the mediaY or someone else’s body. Just the wisdom of our bodies leading the way.
In this space, receptivity becomes a practice.
One that feels foreign to many women at first.
Because we’ve been trained to give, to do, to perform. But here, we practice being in softness, in receiving—not in relation to someone else, but in relation to ourselves.
It’s in these smallest moments—a gentle stroke, a deep breath—that we begin to unlock the ancient codes of the feminine. These codes have been dormant for far too long, waiting for us to remember.
Because your hell yes isn’t just about pleasure.
It’s about sovereignty.
It’s about truth.
It’s about knowing yourself so deeply that anything less than a full-body yes simply won’t do.
And when you find that yes, it becomes a compass—guiding you back to the woman you’ve always been.
Are you ready to remember her?
You’re in the right place.
