No One Taught Us to Want
Why I Started Photographing Women’s Pleasure—and Refused to Keep It Quiet
Growing up, we all heard about the boys.
Their stiff socks.
Their long showers.
Their porn searches.
Their jokes—loud, shameless, even celebrated.
Boys and their desire were normal. Expected.
Even if it made us uncomfortable, even if it made them reckless.
It was allowed.
But us?
We weren’t taught to want.
We were taught to be wanted.
Our introduction to sex wasn’t about us—our bodies, our curiosity, our exploration.
It was about them.
About how to say no.
Or how to say yes in a way that didn’t make us “slutty.”
About protecting our virginity like it was currency.
Not one adult sat us down and said:
“You have the right to explore your body.
Your pleasure is sacred.
You don’t need anyone else to claim it for you.”
And so we learned to look away from our own desire.
To fake it. To perform it.
To tie it to someone else’s satisfaction—because God forbid we claimed it for ourselves.
The Silent Shame of Female Pleasure
Women are still punished—quietly or loudly—for choosing their bodies, their orgasms, their wildness.
For saying yes to something other than performing the “good girl” routine.
We internalize it early:
Touch is for someone else to give.
Our pleasure is secondary—if it happens at all.
Our job is to look good, not feel good.
That shame doesn’t disappear with age.
It just burrows deeper—into marriages, bedrooms, mirror reflections.
Until we don’t even ask ourselves what we want anymore.
Until we forget what wanting even feels like.
Why I Started This Work: The Quiet Rage Behind the Camera
I started erotica photography because I was sick of women being the afterthought.
Sick of women not knowing what turns them on.
Sick of sex being something that happens to us instead of something we get to shape.
Sick of desire being denied, repressed, or used against us.
I wanted to flip the script.
To take the lens off the male gaze and turn it inward—toward you.
Your thighs.
Your moans.
Your tears.
Your softness.
Your power.
I wanted to create a space where women could explore—not for validation, not for performance, but for liberation.
It wasn’t about the photography, it was about the claiming.
When you step into The boudoir Studio with me, brii as your hand holding loving and laughing and pleasure supporting friend, you’re stepping into a reclamation.
Not of what you think you’re supposed to be,
But of who you’ve always been beneath the noise.
You get to touch yourself.
Speak your desires out loud.
Ask for what you need.
Wear what makes you feel alive—or wear nothing at all.
Cry if you need to.
Shake if you need to.
Laugh, scream, orgasm—with no one expecting a show.
Because you are the experience.
Not the man. Not the partner. Not the camera.
You.
I was born to Shake Shit Up
I’m not interested in playing nice or keeping quiet. Obviously.
I didn’t build this studio to make you look sexy for someone else. I literally shun everything about that idea.
I built it so you could feel sexy for you. For you to explore YOU, in a sexual safe space of encouragement and excitement.
To help you rewrite every story that told you to be quiet, soft, small, obedient.
This is about your pleasure being valid. Loud. Sacred.
This is about creating the education we never had.
The acceptance we never felt.
The space we always deserved.
So I’m going to tell you just in case No One has Told You Yet…
You deserve to be turned on by your own body.
You deserve to explore without shame.
You deserve sex that makes you feel alive—not used.
You deserve to be the main character in your desire story.
And if the world won’t teach you how to get there,
I will.
