Ancient Views on Women’s Pleasure Shed Light on Modern Sex Declines

Across the world, reports indicate that people are having less sex. In Britain, the United States, France and Australia, the frequency of sexual activity has declined, though Denmark appears to be an exception. A 2018 article in The Atlantic declared a “sex recession,” and a December 2021 Telegraph piece ran under the headline “Sex is dying out. This is why it matters.”

As an ancient historian specializing in the history of sex, I find this drought fascinating — particularly because some articles hark back to the period I research most. The Telegraph reported: “Sex should be more wild and plentiful than it has been since ancient Greece.” But antiquity was no bastion of sexual freedom, especially for women.

While modern society often perceives men as the hornier sex, ancient Greeks and Romans believed the opposite. Our ancient counterparts would be surprised by modern surveys showing women are more likely to lose interest in sex and less likely to experience orgasm — two likely related factors. Throughout the ancient Mediterranean, women were often seen as “nymphomaniacs,” their voracious appetites a constant problem requiring solution, a view that persisted into the medieval period.

This manifested in the medical theory of the “wandering womb.” According to the Hippocratic Corpus, a collection of ancient Greek medical texts, the womb floats freely within the body, posing health risks — a claim not supported by modern science. For instance, if the womb wandered upward and lodged beneath the diaphragm, the woman might lose speech or even suffocate.

The remedy was straightforward: sex. Because the womb required moisture, according to these texts, it wandered when dry, seeking wetness. Women needed regular sex to create genital moisture and keep the womb in place.

The seriousness of this theory is illustrated by the case of Apuleius, a second-century Roman accused of using magic to win a wife. He argued she married him to cure an “illness” — a wandering womb — she had suffered since becoming a widow.

Thus, sex in antiquity was a health matter, and women were compelled to have it. However, the prescribed form was restrictive: penile penetration with a husband, according to the Hippocratic Corpus. It offers no advice on pleasuring partners, assuming women would enjoy themselves due to their rampant “nymphomania.”

The portrayal of women as the more sexual sex in antiquity was not positive; it was an illness, a side effect of wandering organs that society needed to satiate and control. Women’s sexuality became another means of societal control.

This image shifted relatively recently, with women’s desire seen as buried deep, requiring excavation. Sex historian Kate Lister, in her 2026 book “Flick: The Story of Female Pleasure,” discussed the euphemism “lie back and think of England,” exemplifying the modern historical idea that sex is for men and women must endure it.

In researching my own book, “Aphrodisia: Women, Sex and Pleasure in the Classical World,” I was struck by Katherine Angel’s 2021 work, “Tomorrow Sex Will Be Good Again.” Angel noted that male and female sexuality are often framed as biologically driven, consistent across antiquity and today. The difference now is that men are more frequently depicted as “sexually driven … motivated by their deep evolutionary history to spread their seed.”

History offers two opposing understandings of women’s sexuality, but are the results different? Both attitudes reflect an erasure of individuality and complexity in sexuality and desire.

No statistics exist on how much sex ancient people had or how much pleasure they experienced. An ancient orgasm gap comparable to today’s may have existed. Accusing a man of performing oral sex on his partner was considered an insult in ancient Greece and Rome. Aristophanes wrote in the fifth century BC that it “pollutes the tongue” (“The Knights”), while Galen in the second century compared it to eating feces (“On Simple Drugs”). Given that modern studies suggest most women cannot orgasm from penetration alone, these attitudes likely diminished female pleasure.

Yet women found opportunities for exploration. Sappho, the ancient Greek poet, wrote poems dedicated to women she loved, reminiscing on shared pleasures like making flower crowns and laying together. An anonymous Roman woman carved a poem into Pompeii’s walls, writing of shared kisses and embraces with an unnamed woman — graffiti love declarations far older than modern bathroom stalls.

Pleasure did not have to be shared. Archaeological and literary evidence shows dildos were used throughout antiquity, depicted on red-figure Greek vases, including a sixth-century BC Attic cup attributed to the Nikosthenes Painter, showing a nude woman holding two dildos aimed at her vulva and mouth.

Authors like Aristophanes and Herodas (third century BC) suggest dildos were popularly made of stuffed leather, though materials varied. The Vindolanda phallus, a six-inch wooden penis from Roman Britain uncovered in 1992, showed repeated handling. Originally catalogued as a “darning tool,” reconsideration in 2023 led some historians to posit it as a dildo. In ancient texts and images, dildos are almost exclusively associated with women.

As sex educator Emily Nagoski highlighted in her 2015 book “Come As You Are,” pleasurable sex depends on contextual elements beyond the bedroom. Today, economic factors — stress, cost of living, and young people unable to move out — contribute to people having less sex. Women are more likely to defer sexual encounters due to pain, anxiety, and lower climax rates than men.

The problem may not be our libidos but a society that does or does not allow free expression of sexual desires, whether ancient doctors prescribing husbands to prevent suffocation or modern news outlets suggesting young people need to get drunk for one-night stands. Researching women’s pleasure reminds me that desires are varied, sex lives rich and complex; we are not a monolith, and neither is our sexuality — as true today as in antiquity.

When I began “Aphrodisia,” I sought not just another history of ancient sex but an exploration of women’s pleasure, honoring them as sexual beings rather than objects. I prioritized their voices and reconsidered evidence from those who judged them, discovering outliers, rule-breakers, pioneers and champions of women’s sexuality.

Beyond Sappho and anonymous graffiti artists, there was Sulpicia, a first-century BC Roman poet expressing passion for her lover Cerinthus. Heraeis and Sophia, Graeco-Egyptian women, resorted to magic spells to try to get other women into bed. These women sought to fulfill personal desires despite extramarital sex and lesbian relationships being deeply frowned upon.

In the second century, Cassia, a Roman woman, petitioned courts to make adultery illegal for men, not just women. She failed, but she reminds us that past women were aware of double standards and some tried to change them.

This history suggests a similar approach today would be beneficial. Whether prescribed penile penetration by a fourth-century BC physician or made to feel celibacy is a failure, sex can become a chore. But what if sex could be as described by ancient Greek poet Nossis: sweeter than “even honey I spat from my mouth”?

Rather than simply asking how often people have sex, I want to know: how often do they have good sex? And how can we ensure they can have more?

“Aphrodisia: Women, Sex and Pleasure in the Classical World” by Dr. Jean Menzies (Monoray Group, £20) is out now. To support The Guardian, order your copy at guardianbookshop.com. Delivery charges may apply.

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