Religion, politics and money—those are the three things that most of us were taught you shouldn’t talk about in polite conversation. Obviously the time when these rules applied seem to be behind us. It’s hard to have a conversation some days that doesn’t center around one of those three topics, or all of them. Of course, one topic still is taboo for many: sex. Demystifying what we do in the bedroom, with each other and alone, seems to be the final forbidden issue. Gillian Anderson, star of Netflix’s Sex Education and the iconic ’90s show, The X-Files, wants to change that.
Exploring Female Fantasies Through Want
Anderson’s role as a sex therapist in Sex Education got her thinking about not only sex but also desire, specifically female fantasies. She was inspired to issue a call for women around the world—of all ages, incomes, religions, nationalities and sexual orientations—to write in and share their erotic inner lives. The result is Want: a collection of sexual fantasy confessions from women around the world, submitted by anonymous, collected by Gillian Anderson.
Anderson writes in her introduction, “As a society, we habitually put women into boxes, limiting and constraining their identities and roles — the enticing sexual partner, the caring mother, the smart career women — and yet what these fantasies demonstrate is that no woman has one sole identity.” Anderson wants to not only challenge the categories women are put into but to also encourage women not to continue to feel shame or guilt around their desires.
Thinking About Want
I received Anderson’s book as a birthday present from a friend who had recently read it. My friend has been divorced for several years, and as someone who is about to be divorced, she has served as a bit of a guide and mentor in my process. We have had many conversations about new relationships, both emotional and physical, as I ponder this next stage in my life.
So, the book came at an interesting time for me. I can’t remember when I first began fantasizing, but I know it has long been a part of my inner mental world, whether as a means to sexual gratification or in a more romantic, day-dreaming sort of way.
Reading Want and the conversations I had about it with friends and the interviewees below was a freeing thing. I was amazed and intrigued by the different thoughts it brought out in people. I personally found the beginning of the book sad, as many of the writers talked about longing for mere human connection. Later entries tapped into a more erotic vein. For me, I think the key takeaway was a solidifying of my awareness that fantasies serve as a mental release for many, including myself, even if they aren’t always things we would act on in real life.
The Twists and Turns of Desire
Merriam-Webster defines fantasy as “the power or process of creating especially unrealistic or improbable mental images in response to psychological need.” If the taboos surrounding religion, politics, and money have been—or are currently being—shattered, why do so many women still feel embarrassment, shame, guilt or even fear when it comes to admitting their sexual thoughts and needs?
Anderson admits to having no professional qualifications to address this issue. But she does invite readers to explore these shared insights and see where it takes them on their own journey. Do fantasies change over time? How does our society or upbringing shape our desires? How can women become more comfortable with their desires? Why do archetypal fantasies of control, voyeurism, or risky sex remain common?
In reading Want, I found myself saddened by the women whose fantasies simply revolved around not feeling shame for their fantasies. Some only desired to be loved. It was heartbreaking to feel the loneliness and pain that came through the page. I also was curious as to what the book would provoke in other women. So, I informally asked four friends to read and discuss the book with me. Here are their thoughts.
R, 57
Initially, R felt the book wasn’t for her. She described it as “sensationalistic and possibly exploitative,” questioning its intended audience and feeling it was designed more to titillate than inform. While she could identify with some of the themes and reflected on how fantasies can evolve, she didn’t find the book insightful or respectful enough—especially with details like income, which she saw as irrelevant or off-putting. R believes fantasies can play a meaningful role in long-term relationships where spontaneity fades but felt the book missed an opportunity to explore that in a deeper, more respectful way.
M, 55
M had no expectations going into the book and came out deeply moved, finding it revelatory and emotionally resonant. Growing up Catholic, where even fantasizing was deemed sinful, she had to unlearn shame and reconnect with her body—something the book helped her do. Each story, whether mundane or fantastical, taught her something about herself, often triggering strong emotions and moments of self-recognition. She found power in the raw, unpolished voices of women, celebrating the book as a liberating force that validated women’s inner worlds and challenged the male-dominated narrative of desire. M shared the following: “Somebody said to me, they didn’t really like the writing, but the writing isn’t the point, this is actually women’s words, and I appreciated having unedited women’s words as opposed to making it all glossy and ring hollow.”
J, 52
J reflected on how reading the book felt like something she should have done 20 years ago, because now she is viewing it through the lens of someone post-menopausal, calmer, and less hormonally driven. While she still has an interest in sexuality, it’s now more tied to emotional connection and relationships rather than arousal alone. She’s struck by how many women in the book identify as bi or pan but are in heterosexual marriages—a shift she relates to now but wouldn’t have recognized 15 years ago, highlighting generational and cultural shifts in how sexuality is discussed. The book also brings up complex feelings about privacy, connection, and representation, especially around how younger generations embrace fluidity that felt inaccessible when she was growing up. “I grew up with a very binary definition of sexuality,” she said, “and I didn’t have anything to look at that told me something different.”
G, 62
Thinking back to earlier days reading erotica like My Secret Garden, G initially viewed these books as a way to explore identity and understand women’s thoughts and fantasies. While Want offered some stimulation, G noted a shift in tone in the final chapters, sensing a deeper emotional need in the women’s stories—more about connection than sex. As a transgender woman, G experienced a significant change in her relationship to fantasy and sexuality after transitioning, describing it as no longer central or consuming. “In my younger days, I always wanted to read/see something that made me think I’m not the only one thinking this way,” G explained. “I think this book would be affirming to women that they are not a sample set of one.” Ultimately, G found the book validating, emphasizing that women’s diverse fantasies are normal and can be an important outlet, especially when their partners fall short of meeting their needs.
In Conclusion
Likely, the book provokes more questions than it answers for many readers (myself included). But I’m okay with that because I believe that sex and desire are topics that we need to be more open and accepting about. Fantasies are not good or bad. They often are not even things that we want to act upon.
What are your feelings around desire? If you’ve read Want, join the conversation—we’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments section below.
