I have grown up witnessing how public life in India remains heavily governed by an unspoken code of ‘modesty’. Patriarchal norms have demanded a specific performance of gender and sexuality, particularly for women. For generations, a ‘good’ Indian woman has traditionally been socialised to view her body through the lenses of family honour, and reproductive and maternal duties. Over the years, the feminist rights movement, digital expansion, and access to higher education have helped a new generation of people to actively challenge these boundaries, and they are continuing to do so. Enabled by smartphones, affordable mobile data and the possibility of greater privacy, people have been able to bypass the traditional gatekeepers to explore their innermost sexual fantasies, reshaping the landscape of sexual and reproductive health and rights from the inside out.
In spite of this progress, the fear of expressing sexual desires and fantasies remains a profound psychological barrier. Sexual fantasies are an extremely common, near universal human experience, functioning as a vital and driving component of our overall health and wellbeing. Fantasies are deeply tied to emotional needs – the wish to feel wanted, powerful, or safe enough to let one’s guard down. For many, fantasies provide a safe space to step out of their prescribed social roles and become a central protagonist of their own pleasure.
However, for most people, especially women and queer folks, voicing these fantasies and desires carries a high risk of social, familial and emotional fallout. People feel worried about being judged if they talk about their sexual fantasies, they fear that they might be looked at as anomalous. Decades of societal conditioning mean that the judgement and policing is not just external, it becomes internalised. People often feel shame or guilt for simply having a fantasy, viewing their own thoughts as ‘sinful’. The truth is that we all imagine alternate lives, relationships, jobs and futures. We imagine reunions, invent adventures and may wonder what it might feel like to be someone else, but when it comes to sexual fantasies, they become a subject of scrutiny.
What people fantasise about is not necessarily synonymous with what they are interested in doing in person, in reality. Curiosity and imagination does not require experimentation. It may overlap with a desire but not automatically a plan to act on that fantasy. Sexual fantasies become a confession before they become a conversation. This is partly because of the lack of vocabulary. Healthy, honest and open conversations about pleasure are largely absent in our society, schools and households; we simply lack the vocabulary required to communicate our feelings and desires, even with a partner, without feeling awkward and guilty. Normalising conversations about sexual fantasies becomes difficult when the only available categories are ‘normal’ and ‘abnormal’, ‘good’ and ‘bad’. We need non-judgemental vocabulary. Empowering vocabulary, that too in the vernacular, for pleasure, is not just a linguistic exercise – it is an act of liberation. The purpose should be to make room for honesty, and that includes hesitation.
The fear surrounding fantasies is often a fear of interpretation. There is a difference between imagining, wanting and doing something. This is particularly important in the context of situations that would be unacceptable in real life. Imagination does not necessarily need to follow the rules of an ideal society while our relationships with other people in real life must remain consensual and with us accountable for them.
Some of the hardest questions around fantasies arise when they do not resemble our publicly held values. Must we defend what we imagine? Feminist writer Jaya Sharma has approached this tension by arguing that fantasies that unsettle feminist commitments can become occasions of reflection rather than condemnation or a demand for disclosure. Being able to speak matters; but so also does being able to choose what not to share. There are boundaries both for the person sharing and the one listening, and those need to be respected. Sharing does not mean pressure or permission to perform, and listening does not imply agreement.
Perhaps we do not need every fantasy to explain who we are. We need the space to consider what it evokes – pleasure, curiosity, discomfort, contradiction – without rushing to a judgement. Recognising pleasure, desire, and the language to express them as fundamental pillars of sexual health and wellbeing is essential. The task then is to not make every fantasy acceptable to everyone, but to approach imagination with curiosity and other people with care, to have a rich and populated inner life while remaining clear about consent, respect and the responsibility we owe one another. We need room for fantasy and respect for boundaries.
The shift can begin with a private question – “Is it wrong to imagine this?” Digital spaces can and have offered room to take that question beyond the judgement of family or community. They are making room for conversations on sexuality, pleasure and rights. Someone curious about a fantasy involving surrender might use that opportunity to learn how to distinguish imagined pleasure from consent, to an actual encounter. Someone questioning their attraction might find language for their feelings through queer-affirming information and support online. The significance lies in the movement from “Am I allowed to feel this?” towards “What do I want, what are my boundaries?” In this way, exploring fantasy can bring agency and pleasure into conversations too often confined to risk and reproduction. The possibility lies in turning an understanding of fantasies into agency – the confidence to understand desire, set boundaries and choose what remains imagined.
Cover image by Billy Huynh on Unsplash
