Welcome to the first episode of Lust in Translation! Yesterday I shared the backstory to this podcast, and today we are officially live.
Before I dive in, I want you to know that you are able to tune in directly on Substack (click on the video above), as well as anywhere you listen to podcasts.
The most popular ones are Spotify, Youtube and Apple Podcasts, so I’m linking them here.
Lauren Elise Rogers is a Certified Holistic Sexuality Educator and Embodied Intimacy & Relationship Coach who grew up in an evangelical Christian community.
We talked about purity culture, erotic literature and self-pleasure, painful marriages and joyful liberation, and raising sexually empowered teens—all in one arc.
I wanted to start here because it’s a complex and enlightening episode. Even if you didn’t grow up religious, chances are you were taught to fear your own desire. Most of us were.
Lauren’s story shows how deeply those scripts can live in us, and how possible it is to rewrite them at any age.
Below, I share 4 main frameworks and/or insights from our conversation.
1. The 7–14–21 framework: mapping your erotic timeline
One of my favorite practical pieces from this episode is the idea of tracing your sexual formation through key developmental ages: 7, 14, and 21.
Lauren describes guiding people to create their own “metaphorical sexual scrapbook,” going back through their experiences and messages at these ages.
Here’s how you can do this as a reflection practice (journal, voice note, or talk it out with a trusted friend/therapist/coach). I took the liberty of adding my own questions to this guide.
Age 7: Early messages and “good/bad” bodies
Ask yourself:
What did I learn about bodies and nudity around this age?
How did adults react if I was curious about my body or someone else’s?
Were there any rules—spoken or unspoken—about modesty, touching, or privacy?
At 7, many of us absorbed foundational ideas like “my body is dirty,” “curiosity is shameful,” or “we don’t talk about that,” even if no one ever said those words out loud.
Age 14: Adolescence, desire, and social scripts
Ask yourself:
What were peers, media, or religious communities saying about sex and “good girls/boys”?
Was I taught that my value depended on staying pure, not being “easy,” or managing someone else’s arousal?
Did anyone talk about pleasure, orientation, or consent in a way that honored my experience?
Lauren notes that many of her female-bodied clients realize, at this stage of reflection, “Oh, that’s where I learned that my job is to protect men from my body, and that their desire is inevitable and my responsibility.”
Age 21: Adult sex without adult education
Ask yourself:
What was my relationship to sex, partnership, and commitment around then?
Did I feel like I had to “perform” being a good partner, spouse, or lover without any real education?
Was there a gap between what I was doing sexually and what I actually wanted or felt ready for?
Lauren shares that 21 is also the average age at which many people begin engaging in penetrative sex, even though experimentation and curiosity often start earlier. Yet most of us arrive there with prevention-focused, shame-based education at best.
Once you’ve done 7–14–21, look at your answers and ask:
Which beliefs did I consciously choose, and which were embedded by family, religion, or culture?
Which ones feel like “soil”—deep in my body, especially my pelvic floor—showing up as tension, shutdown, or guilt when I feel desire?
Which scripts do I want to retire, rewrite, or reclaim?
This exercise isn’t about blaming your past. It’s about understanding the origin story of your erotic self so you can rewrite it in a way that actually fits who you are now.
2. Faith, pleasure, and reclaiming your body
Lauren helps clients distinguish between embedded theology (the harmful add-ons—gender roles, sexual double standards, shame-based teachings) and essential theology (their actual spiritual values and connection to the divine).
We explore how pleasure can be seen as sacred rather than sinful: from the simple fact that fetuses self-pleasure in utero, to the existence of the clitoris as an organ whose sole purpose is pleasure.
Instead of treating the body as a problem to solve, we can treat our anatomy as evidence that we were made for joy, connection, and erotic aliveness.
For people who choose to keep practicing their faith, the work often looks like:
Letting go of rigid gender roles and scripts that equate “goodness” with sexual submission or self-erasure.
Developing a personal ethic where sex, self-pleasure, and erotic exploration are aligned with core values like consent, mutual care, and honesty.
Allowing pleasure to be a site of worship, gratitude, and embodiment rather than performance or obligation.
3. Toys, variety, and everyday eroticism
For those of you who’ve been taught that using a toy in bed is “cheating” or “corrupting”, a great analogy is that vibrators are like snacks or smoothies, not replacements for meals. They are different ways of nourishing the body.
A vibrator is not in competition with a partner. It’s more like a pool toy you bring into the water together.
You don’t become “dependent” on toys, unless they are truly the only kind of stimulation you ever allow yourself. If that bothers you, add in more variety and go acoustic (using your fingers).
Solo pleasure practices (with or without toys) make partnered sex better by deepening your understanding of what you like and how you respond.
If you’re curious about bringing more intentional play into your erotic life, I partnered with Epiphany to bring you the Mind and Body Bundle: a clitoral arousal serum to heighten sensation (I carry it in my purse at all times!), and my intimacy card deck to spark the kinds of conversations and experiments that keep desire alive.
Think of it as a practical lab for everything we talk about on the podcast—more chances to feel turned on in your own skin, and more chances to create connection (and orgasms) instead of waiting for them to magically appear.
4. Raising sexually literate, empowered teens
One of the most moving parts of the episode is when Lauren talks about parenting her 15-year-old daughter very differently from how she was raised. Instead of secrecy and silence, she centers comprehensive sexuality education and ongoing conversations as acts of deep care.
She compares it to learning how to drive: before a teen gets behind the wheel alone, they have to study, pass a written test, and log many supervised hours on the road.
Yet we often expect young people to “just figure out” sex with no information, then shame them when they struggle.
Some of the outcomes she sees at home:
Her daughter can clearly articulate boundaries, desires, and what she is and is not interested in doing with her body in a relationship.
She is not having sex to please a boyfriend or to validate his desire; she is able to center her own wants and limits.
Research backs this up: young people who receive comprehensive sex education tend to take fewer risks, delay intercourse, and make more informed decisions, compared with those who receive abstinence-only messages.
For those of you raising kids or in close relationship with teens, this is an invitation to move from “protecting them from information” to equipping them with tools, language, and frameworks they can carry for life.
If you’re curious where to start, Lauren has an online course called Sex Ed Prep for Parents.
Thank you for tuning in! If you have any questions or comments, please drop them below or hit reply.
Connect with Lauren on Instagram, and learn more about working with her here.
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Until next week!
Natassia
