Interested in ORGASMS? The not-so-subtle first line of an email I received during exam period in January certainly did its job of catching my attention. Intrigued, I read further, discovering the email to be an invitation to FemSex (female sexuality), a new, not-for-credit, semester-long, student-moderated workshop that seeks to provide a safe environment for women—including those who currently identify as women, have identified as women, or may identify as women in the future—to learn about their bodies and explore the impact of sexuality on their identity. Wary of the parenthetical note and the notions of sexuality and identity, which always seem to play into discussions about the apparent need at Harvard for a women's center, I was still curious to learn more about the motivations for and the content of the seminar. I decided to attend the FemSex informational meeting held on February 4, intending to apply for the seminar.

I was greeted by a handful of Harvard School of Public Health students and recent attendees of similar female sexuality courses at other colleges. They first gave the ten or so women in attendance a short history of the female sexuality seminar, which started over fifteen years ago at the bastion of sexual liberation known as UC Berkeley. The leaders neglected to mention that FemSex's male-centered counterpart at Cal was suspended after students engaged in group sex at the home of course instructors, took pictures of their genitalia, and watched one instructor engage in sex on the stage at a gay strip club, all while receiving academic credit for their participation in the Berkeley-sponsored seminar. Nevertheless, following the immense popularity of the course at Berkeley, the female sexuality class then spread to Brown—perhaps even more a champion of political correctness and sexual experimentation than Berkeley. And fortunately for all of us sexually-repressed Harvard students, it wasn't long before a few former FemSex participants and facilitators in the Boston area banded together and organized Harvard's very own female sexuality class.

The facilitators explained how FemSex revitalized their lives, allowing one to come to terms with what she described as "an embarrassing past sexual experience," convincing another that menstruation is "a beautiful thing", and even causing one to suddenly get better grades. All women emphasized that the goal of the seminar was to open doors. They assured us not to worry—that it is up to us to decide whether or not to walk through those doors. They just wanted us to know that doors are there, I suppose in case we are stuck in an illusory room with no means of escape.

We then moved on to the syllabus, which I now keep as a memento that I will forever show to people who are incredulous of the pro-sex culture at Harvard and universities across the country. At first glance, the syllabus seemed pretty tame. Meeting times, predetermined weekly discussion topics, guest speakers, and field trips were outlined—nothing abnormal about that. Some of the issues being discussed are even frequent topics of conversation between my friends and me: portrayals of women in popular media, body image, women's health, motherhood, and communication and relationships. Despite the fact that abortion was listed under the week on women's health, nothing initially riled me. Most of it seemed to be what groups of women usually end up talking about anyway. I began to think that maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all.

Upon closer inspection, however, my jaw dropped. Where to begin? Assignments include coloring an anatomical diagram from the C*** Coloring Book, doing an erogenous exploration exercise, and I can't forget the creative writing exercise, "writing your sexual fantasy (don't worry, it's anonymous)." In addition, each of the speakers will bring something valuable to the table: a midwife, someone from the "BDSM community," a professional dominatrix named Princess Kali, a speaker on "open relationships," sexologist Carol Queen, and the two leaders of Harvard's Office of Sexual Assault and Prevention Response—the group that brought the Classes of 2007, 2008, and 2009 the "everybody's-drinking-and-doing-it" introduction to sexual safety, Sex Signals. If that's not enough fun for you, there is a writing workshop on pornography and erotica, a guided tour of Good Vibrations of Boston (a women-owned sex-toy shop), and other field trips involving a porn night and a visit to a strip club.

It seemed that my lofty goal of participating in FemSex and sharing my perspectives with a diverse—whatever that means—crowd of women was suddenly no longer attainable. I had come into the meeting thinking, perhaps naively, that I would sit there and listen to stories about people's sexual encounters and ideas of what it means to be a woman at Harvard, waiting my turn to tell them about my own beliefs. I wouldn't judge, but instead would inform them that abstinence is the best way to avoid STD and unwanted pregnancies—such a revolutionary idea; that sex work and pornography objectify women; that women wouldn't need to be empowered if they stopped calling themselves the victims of a masculine world and instead worked alongside men.

I'm not sure what their reactions to my opinions would be. I'm not sure if my views would be tolerated. I wonder if I'd inadvertently violate the contract I'd have to sign, which requires that I contribute to making the space safe and comfortable. But I do know that as long as we're watching a film entitled Then Abortion Was Illegal, being told how great polyamory is, and discussing self-love and masturbation, it can never be a safe, comfortable space for me. I'm still trying to grapple with the fact that without me, these women might not hear a sensible, critical view of sexual liberation and total self-ownership. The onus is on me, I keep telling myself, to bring them out of the liberal Twilight Zone.

But the contract requires that I not miss more than three classes and three assignments. That means I'd have to do the assignment on eroticizing safer sex and a whole lot more. I'm just not willing to condone such harmful sexual behaviors by sitting there and fueling the fire that I have worked so hard these past few years to put out. I left the meeting without submitting the application.

If one of its goals is the empowerment of women, then FemSex is on the wrong track. Why does it include porn nights, which are designed to let us know that watching porn is alright for women? Why does it vindicate an over-sexualized, "gimme-gimme" culture that emphasizes immediate gratification and leads to an inability to accept consequences and the devaluation of marriage and family? Women (and men) who choose to abstain from sex until marriage are not living in boxes with no way to escape; instead they have true freedom—they don't have to worry about contracting STD or living up to their respective partner's expectations based on past experiences. One person who read a similar article I wrote for a blog called Modestly Yours claims that partaking in FemSex, in which she participated as a student at Brown, allows you to become comfortable with yourself, your body, and your sexuality. How can becoming comfortable with myself be achievable by visiting a strip club? I can't see how watching naked women prance around on stage while men ogle them is going to encourage me to accept my body. Where's the logic in that?

There's been a call to arms over at Modestly Yours to start ModSex at Harvard, designed along the lines of Princeton's newly-formed pro-abstinence, pro-family Anscombe Society. Imagine the possibilities! Open to both men and women, assignments will involve learning how to take care of children, to balance finances, and to cook, real-world skills that most college students lack. Phyllis Schlafly and James Dobson will speak. And for our first field trip, why not visit the home of a local family? These activities may be too tame for the likes of the FemSex organizers, but I guarantee that they will better prepare us for life than penning our own pornographic romance novels.