Alright, let’s talk about that title: ‘sex from women’. I know, I know, it’s a heck of a title. And if you clicked thinkin’ this was gonna be some sleazy tell-all, well, sorry to disappoint. Or maybe, not sorry. Because what I actually wanna share is a story about a project of mine, a real learning curve, and how things can get twisted by a name, or by how you approach stuff. That title? It’s kinda like a ghost from that project, a reminder of how wrong I got things at first.
My Big “Understanding Women” Project Fiasco
So, a few years back, I was trying to get a handle on something. I was working on this community initiative, and I really, really needed to understand what women in my community wanted from it. Not in a weird way, just, you know, their genuine thoughts, needs, what would make it useful for them. My goal was simple: get honest, unfiltered feedback.
But man, did I bungle the approach. My first mistake? In my own notes, and even in a couple of early brainstorms with a close mate, I kinda, sorta, jokingly started referring to this whole effort with a shorthand that was… well, let’s just say it was as clumsy and tone-deaf as the title of this post. I didn’t say it out loud to the people I was trying to reach, thank goodness, but that mindset, that internal framing? It seeped into how I was thinking about it. I was so focused on ‘getting’ information, I wasn’t thinking enough about ‘connecting’ or ‘listening’.
The Messy Middle: How I Stumbled
- I drafted some really awkward surveys. Looking back, they were all about what I thought was important.
- I tried setting up these super formal focus groups. Stiff, uncomfortable, and people were clearly holding back. It felt like an interrogation, not a conversation.
- I kept hitting walls. People would agree to talk, then cancel. Or they’d give really vague answers. I was frustrated, thinking, “Why is this so hard?”
I spent weeks spinning my wheels. I talked at people, not with them. I pushed my agenda, even when I thought I was being open. The whole thing was a disaster waiting to happen, or rather, a disaster quietly unfolding.
The Lightbulb Moment (Finally!)
Then, I had a conversation with a friend, Sarah. She’s straight-up, no BS. I was moaning about how I couldn’t ‘get what I needed from the women I talked to’. And she just looked at me and said, “Maybe stop trying to ‘get’ things from people, and start trying to understand things with them? And for God’s sake, lose that terrible mental shortcut you’re using for this project.”
Oof. That hit hard. She was right. My whole approach was transactional. The way I was even thinking about it, symbolized by that stupid internal ‘codename’ that echoes the title of this post, was the root of the problem. It wasn’t about ‘sex from women’ in any literal sense, but my initial framing for ‘getting insights from women’ was just as objectifying in its own way. It was about extraction, not empathy.
Turning Things Around: The Actual Practice
So, I scrapped everything. I started over.
- I stopped thinking about what I could ‘get’.
- I began by just asking a few women I trusted if they’d be willing to chat, informally, about their experiences in the community. No agenda, just listening.
- I focused on creating safe, comfortable spaces for conversation. Coffee, not a boardroom.
- I learned to shut up and actually listen. To ask open-ended questions. To be vulnerable myself and admit I didn’t have all the answers.
- I changed my internal language completely. The project became about “Community Voices” or “Shared Understanding.”
And guess what? People started opening up. I got incredible insights. The project eventually became something way better, something actually co-created. It took humility, and it took ditching my ego and my awful initial framing. The ‘practice’ wasn’t about ‘getting’ anything. It was about learning to connect, to respect, and to listen genuinely. And that stupid, provocative mental label I once used? It’s a stark reminder of the wrong way to go about things. So yeah, the title of this post is a bit of clickbait, but it’s also a nod to a very real lesson I learned the hard way.
