What We Were Never Taught About Black Masculinity, Sexuality, Pleasure & Intimacy
As a therapist and professor who teaches Black Sexualities and Racialized Masculinities, I spend a lot of time thinking about the messages we receive about who we're supposed to be in relationships, what we're allowed to desire, and how we're supposed to express, or hide, our vulnerability.
I think about the pictures we take of little Black boys and as they grow into adolescence their affect changes.
At what age does that big smile become a more serious, more controlled, masking joy, playfulness, and pleasure?
Black men can receive messages that teach them to mask signs of vulnerability and hide them away. Masculinity can become associated with being hard, being strong, and not showing signs of weakness or vulnerability.
The 2026 study Performing Strength: Racialized Masculinity in the Lived Experiences of Black Men at Risk of Suicide explores some of these tensions. In interviews with Black men who had experienced suicidal thoughts or behaviors, researchers found themes around toughness, emotional suppression, self-reliance, racism, and the pressure to perform strength. The men described how these expectations could create barriers to vulnerability and seeking support.
As Black boys get older, it can become more common to see that big childhood smile replaced by a more serious expression.
Of course, this doesn’t describe every Black boy. But it does make me curious about what happens along the way. When do we start learning that some emotions are okay to show and others need to be hidden?
What Happens When That Boy Becomes Somebody's Partner and Lover?
How do you express vulnerability through intimacy and affection if you have never been taught or shown deeper ways of expressing yourself through emotional intimacy and vulnerability?
Sexual vulnerability means allowing yourself to be seen emotionally and physically within an intimate setting without knowing exactly how the other person will respond. It can involve sharing fantasies, expressing limits, communicating preferences, or allowing yourself to be seen in your physical and emotional nakedness.
Psychologist Brené Brown has described vulnerability as "the birthplace of innovation, creativity and change." She also challenges the idea that vulnerability is the same thing as weakness.
In sexual and romantic relationships, this openness comes with risk: the risk of rejection, judgment, or misunderstanding.
Intimacy can require us to say things like:
I want to feel close to you.
I'm not in the mood tonight.
I'm afraid you won't accept this part of me.
I've always wanted to try this.
And that is taking a risk.
Those statements may look simple, but saying them requires vulnerability. You are allowing someone else to see your desires, fears, boundaries, insecurities, and needs without knowing exactly how they will respond.
So, what happens when masculinity teaches you to be confident, knowledgeable, and in control, while intimacy asks you to be curious, honest, and sometimes uncertain?
What I Want Men to Know—Especially Black Men
Sexual intimacy isn't necessarily about proving masculinity, knowing everything, or performing for another person.
Pleasure can involve softness, curiosity, and what sexologist and author Zoë Kors describes as radical intimacy—embracing some of the discomfort and uncertainty that can come with allowing ourselves to experience deeper intimacy.
What feels good to me?
What feels good to you?
What don't I like?
What are my desires and fantasies?
What haven't I explored yet?
What makes me feel desired?
What makes me feel safe enough to let go?
And maybe that last question is especially important:
What makes me feel safe enough to let go?
Because letting go requires vulnerability. It asks us, even temporarily, to loosen some of the control we may have learned was necessary to protect ourselves.
For Black men who have received messages about needing to be strong, controlled, self-reliant, or emotionally restrained, letting go can challenge some of those messages about what masculinity is supposed to look like.
But what if vulnerability doesn't take away from masculinity?
What if being able to experience pleasure, receive affection, communicate desire, express uncertainty, and allow yourself to be cared for can also be part of what strength looks like?
Creating Space for Vulnerability After Sex
One way couples can begin creating this form of radical intimacy and a safe space for this kind of vulnerability is through aftercare.
We often think intimacy ends when sex ends. But the moments after sex can create an opportunity for partners to slow down, reconnect, and talk about what they just experienced. They can also create moments to feel seen, heard, and understood on a deeper level.
Aftercare is the care and attention partners give each other after sexual activity to help everyone feel physically comfortable, emotionally safe, and connected. Although aftercare is commonly discussed within BDSM communities, it can be valuable after any kind of sexual intimacy.
And aftercare doesn't have to look the same for every couple.
It might mean cuddling, hugging, holding hands, lying together, getting water, showering together, or simply giving each other some quiet time.
But aftercare can also be conversation.
How are you feeling?
What did you enjoy?
Did you feel connected to me?
Was there anything you wanted more of?
Was there anything that didn't feel good?
Is there something you'd like us to try next time?
It can also sound as simple as:
I loved being close to you.
I loved when you did that.
Thank you for trusting me.
I feel really connected to you right now.
These conversations create opportunities to practice something many of us were never explicitly taught how to do: talk honestly about pleasure, desire, connection, and vulnerability.
Maybe Strength Can Also Mean Letting Go
As I come back to that little Black boy and his smile.
At some point, many Black boys begin receiving messages about what being a man is supposed to look like:
Be strong.
Stay in control.
Don't let people see you hurt.
Don't let people see you scared.
Handle things yourself.
Those messages don't come from nowhere. Black masculinity exists within a larger racial and social context. Research on racialized masculinity reminds us that expectations of toughness, emotional restraint, and self-reliance can exist alongside experiences of racism and marginalization.
There may have been times when being guarded, controlled, or strong helped you protect yourself.
But intimacy can ask something different of us.
Sometimes intimacy asks us to let go.
To let someone see us.
To say, I need you.
To say, That hurt me.
To admit, I don't know.
To say, This is what I desire.
It can hold strength and softness.
And maybe part of intimacy is learning that you don't always have to perform strength. With someone you trust, there can also be strength in allowing yourself to let go, experience pleasure, be cared for, and be fully seen.
Sources & Further Reading
Written by Gena Bowman, LCSW | 10.3.2026