"I respect gays and lesbians, but changing your sex? That’s where I draw the line. I don’t accept trans people."
"If you keep having sex before marriage, you’re going to get cervical cancer for being an irresponsible prostitute."
"Stop complaining. Just stay quiet."
"But women don’t even have sex with each other, so why would you need protection?"
These are words I’ve had to endure in the most vulnerable of moments — naked, sitting in front of a gynaecologist. As a sapphic person seeking basic healthcare, I’ve been subjected to violence masquerading as medical advice. These statements are not just words, they’re a reflection of the deeply ingrained prejudices that define how sapphic people like me are treated in the healthcare system.
Like many, I grew up in a conservative environment where talking about sexuality was taboo. Even the word "menstruation" was considered repulsive, and sex education was limited to "don’t get pregnant." No one ever talked about other sexualities, and I didn’t know that people like me — people attracted to their same gender or more than one gender — even existed.
In my teenage years, I felt completely isolated. I had questions about my sexual orientation but couldn’t ask anyone for fear of being judged, rejected, or worse, thrown out of my own home. Back then, I figured if I wasn’t a lesbian, I must be straight, even though I knew I didn’t fully fit either label.
Everything changed one day when a friend asked me, "Are you bisexual?" That simple question opened the door to something I hadn’t considered. That same afternoon, while watching a Natalia Lafourcade video that showed a sapphic couple, I realised I could see myself having a girlfriend and in the end, love someone, regardless of their gender. That was when I finally embraced my identity: I am a sapphic bisexual.
Who Are Sapphic People?
The term sapphic is an umbrella. It encompasses lesbians, bisexuals, pansexuals, cis women, non-binary people, and trans people who are attracted to femininity. The term comes from Sappho, a poet from Ancient Greece, known for her love poems to women.
But sapphic love is not just about sexual orientation. It’s about embracing love, pleasure, and autonomy in a world that tries to deny us all three. It’s an identity that spans beyond simple labels, acknowledging a shared experience among women and feminised people who love from a place of resilience and joy.
The Healthcare System’s Blind Spots
Missing the full picture
The sexual health system we have today operates within a narrow framework — one where sex is defined solely as penetration between a penis and a vagina. This leaves sapphic people, and other sexual identities, completely invisible. Without comprehensive sexual education that acknowledges our existence, we face higher risks of sexually transmitted infections (STIs), often because we’re not given the right information about protection.
Sexual health is about more than just avoiding pregnancy. It involves consent, freedom, pleasure, and comprehensive care. Yet, these aspects are constantly overlooked by a system that doesn’t understand our needs or reflect our lived realities.
Our body, our choice
Sapphic people face a unique set of challenges when making decisions about their bodies. Whether it’s starting hormone treatments, choosing pronouns, or even opting for contraception despite not being concerned about pregnancy, our choices are often met with scrutiny and judgment. This violence comes in the form of dismissal, invalidation, and barriers to accessing the care we need.
All women and people with vulvas deserve the freedom to make informed decisions about their own bodies.
Violence in medical spaces
Sapphic people, and the queer community experience institutionalised violence within healthcare. We’re often dismissed, our sexual practices ignored or invalidated. If we’re also trans, racialised, or from a marginalised economic background, the discrimination only intensifies.
This violence takes a toll on our mental health. Sapphic people experience higher rates of depression and anxiety than heterosexual women and even other LGBT+ people. According to data from the National Survey on Sexual and Gender Diversity (ENDISEG 2021), in Mexico, 67.7% of sapphic people has reported suffering from discrimination due to their sexual identities, and an alarming 48% of sapphic people in Mexico have experienced suicidal thoughts, compared to just 14% of the rest of the LGBTQ+ community (Our LGBT+ Survey, UNAM, 2023).
Much of this comes from the feeling that we don’t fully belong anywhere. Many of us also navigate other forms of oppression, which add layers of complexity to accessing safe, respectful healthcare. Intersectionality and representation matters!
Fear as a barrier to self-care
One of the greatest barriers to access sexual healthcare for sapphic people is fear — fear of being mistreated, dismissed, or outright shamed. This isn’t just a vague sense of unease; it’s the direct result of a patriarchal healthcare system that has taught feminized bodies to hide their sexuality rather than explore it with openness and confidence.
1 in 10 LGBTI+ individuals were forced by their parents to consult a psychologist or religious authority in an attempt to change their sexual identity (National Survey on Sexual and Gender Diversity, 2021).
For sapphic individuals, this fear often translates into avoiding necessary care. For instance, 80% of sapphic individuals with vulvas who engage in sexual relationships with other people with vulvas reported not using any protection methods. (Our LGBT+ Survey, UNAM, 2023). Furthermore, 46% of trans and non-binary sapphic individuals report facing difficulties accessing healthcare services, which makes it clear that our healthcare system fails many members of the queer community. In fact, many LGBTI+ individuals turn to private healthcare services (49.8%), while the non-LGBTI+ population primarily uses public services (52.2%) (National Survey on Sexual and Gender Diversity, 2021).
While individual healthcare providers aren’t always the root of the problem, they are often part of a system that perpetuates this fear — This isn't a fear that only affects sapphic individuals; it’s a common experience for many people, regardless of their sexual orientation or gender identity.
The importance of comprehensive sexual health
Growing up with a heteronormative, fear-based approach to sex education, it’s no surprise that many of us see sexual health as taboo — something separate from our general well-being. This stigma stops us from realising that sexual health is deeply interconnected with our overall health. Just as mental health is critical to general health, so is sexual health.
Taking care of our sexual health is about more than avoiding pregnancy; it’s about knowing our bodies, recognising when something feels off, and addressing it early. Regular check-ups, maintaining a healthy diet, and exercising are all essential for our well-being, but so is exploring our desires and talking openly about what we like. When we feel free to discover new aspects of ourselves, it enriches every part of our lives.
Reclaiming pleasure and resistance
Faced with this reality, it’s time for us to take control of the narrative around our sexual health. For me, that meant leveraging my skills in marketing to work in sexual health communications. I believe it’s crucial that people with lived experiences like mine are involved in shaping the messages and resources around sexual health. Only by doing so can we ensure that our communities are represented with the empathy, accuracy, and respect we deserve.
Exploring our sexuality is an act of defiance in a world that continuously tries to erase us. Choosing to prioritise our pleasure and well-being is a radical form of resistance. It’s not easy, but each time we share our stories, our desires, our identities, we carve out space for future generations who won’t have to fight quite as hard.
Find My Method: A Tool for Change
In my quest to improve access to sexual healthcare, I discovered a platform that addresses these issues with respect and empathy: https://findmymethod.org/, where I have the honour to be part of as the Communications Officer. Find My Method is an online resource that provides accurate, up-to-date information on contraception and safe sex. The platform offers fun, engaging tools like quizzes and blogs on sexuality, designed to help you make informed decisions.
One of our most innovative tools is Myka, the chatbot that can answer your questions and help you find your ideal contraceptive method. This platform is an example of how we can begin to transform sexual healthcare, moving away from shame and exclusion and toward a future where all people are seen and supported.
At the end of the day, we all want the same things: to feel safe, and to have the information we need to make the best choices for ourselves. Sapphic people are no exception, and we deserve a healthcare system that treats us with the dignity every human being is owed.
This is just the beginning. There is a long road ahead, but we must walk it together. We can start at home, by sharing information with our loved ones, supporting them in their sexual health journeys, and, yes, even accompanying them to doctor appointments. By recognising our experiences, advocating for pleasure and knowledge, we can help create a sexual health system that is truly inclusive and transformative.
You can make a donation at: https://womenfirstdigital.org/donate/