Pallavi Barnwal’s sexuality education goes beyond the body

"Having spent 40 years on this planet, I can say I have never experienced this kind of love until now,” sexuality and intimacy coach Pallavi Barnwal  writes in an Instagram post about her husband John. 

She continues, “He came into my life at a stage when I had stopped thinking about pursuing love. This relationship is tender, mature, inclusive, and passionate. Being a sexuality coach, it warms my heart to say that John appreciates my work and we have a sizzling chemistry in bed.”

This post is just one of the countless confessions of love, connection and heartbreak that Barnwal has laid bare to her dedicated allies and 2.28 lakh followers on Instagram. 

It takes a tremendous amount of vulnerability to be a sexuality coach, believes Barnwal. The ability to own and embrace that vulnerability is important, she adds. 

Barnwal began her journey in the field of sexual wellness education in 2019, while gaining insights from her own recovery and healing, in the aftermath of a marriage she calls “sexless” and several sabotaging relationships prior to that. 

Today, her efforts to conquer her own circumstances and her desire to share her lessons and triumphs with the world have catapulted her into a guide and mentor of sorts on Instagram–her primary platform of engagement.

Barnwal, a life sciences graduate and a resident of Delhi, talks about sex and sexuality with candour and simplicity. She believes it is more than just a physical connection and a product of one’s upbringing, exposure, self-image, body image, trauma history, and the extent of shame and freedom surrounding one’s body and sexual desire. 

This integrated approach has helped her to connect the dots in the content she offers on social media and her counsel to clients.  

She offers both online and offline guidance, as part of her sexual wellness startup GetIntimacy, in the form of workshops, one-on-one sessions, courses, and social media content.

Breaking down the nuances of sex

“Sex is complicated,” says Barnwal. 

“Every person has not one but three sexualities. There’s your sexuality, your partner’s sexuality, and the relational sexuality that the two of you are cultivating. So, sex is indeed complicated,” she elaborates. 

At a time when sexual education still remains taboo and peripheral in nature, Barnwal breaks down the solutions to interpersonal sexual conflicts by referencing people’s belief systems and conditioning. 

She cites an example of a client, a young woman, who grew up imbibing the conservative attitude of her parents who were intolerant to ideas of dating and premarital sex. 

“So a simple act of affection from her boyfriend, when he pulled her in to give her a hug, led her to having an emotional breakdown,” she says. 

“She instantly feared that his action was sexually intended. These are the complexities young people in our country are dealing with,” she adds. 

A study by a group of researchers from Pune in 2022 observed that, despite being one of the youngest countries in the world, 27.5% of India’s population in the 15–29 years age group lack the sexual health support and care they need. 

Despite evidence suggesting that it is crucial for those transitioning from adolescence to young adulthood to form intimate and romantic relationships, policies, programmes, and research on sexual and reproductive health and rights are primarily focused only on addressing issues related to reproductive health, the study notes. 

That is why Barnwal urges people to think about how their sexuality consists of not just their bodies but also encompasses their beliefs, hurts, vulnerabilities, emotions, dreams, values, fears, and so much more. 

As she strives to build an exhaustive and unabashed discourse around sexuality in India, Barnwal–who grew up in a joint family in Jharkhand–is also reclaiming her own voice and sexuality. 

Her family, like many Indian families, often stifled discussions around sex and the female body in what Barnwal calls a “sex-negative upbringing”.

“When I was in class XI, an aunt who was visiting us stitched me an ‘emergency corset’ to cover my breasts and save me the ‘shame’ of my developing body,” recollects Barnwal. 

“Any subject remotely connected to fantasy, sexuality or desire was implicitly shamed in our home. This meant no period education and, most certainly, no tolerance for teenage crushes and boys,” she adds.

This kind of emotional suppression manifests in adulthood as an inhibition towards sexual pleasure and absence of boundaries in sexual relationships faced by women, reasons Barnwal.

As she began sharing her story online, more people in similar situations began reaching out to her. This experience eventually led her to become a sexuality educator.

Barnwal offers counsel to both men and women; a majority of them are in the 26-45 years age group. 

“When I began my practice, more men came to me for guidance than women,” she says. 

A lot of couples who seek Barnwal’s counselling are from the metro cities. 

“Perhaps because of the culture of longer working hours … Higher stress leads to lesser intimacy,” she explains.

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Politics matters and is dictating how youngsters choose to love

Need for sensitivity and vulnerability

In her Instagram videos, Barnwal reiterates the importance of expressing, asking, validating and comforting. Her goal is not to bluntly call out the taboos surrounding sex but gently nudge people to understand why sex matters and, more importantly, why it isn’t transactional.

“Today what we are learning from our exposure to popular media and pornography is a whole lot of assumption and preparation. If you do this to me, I should do this to you. If I feel a certain way, you should feel the same. If you are a man, you should always be the one to initiate a sexual act–these are all ideas devoid of basic human understanding and the fact that each of us is unique,” she says.

A good number of men whom Barnwal meets have trouble using a condom, as they are consumed by anxiety and performance pressure. 

“And on the other end, there is a whole lot of entitlement in men that views women as mere objects of pleasure,” says Barnwal. 

“What both these extremes lack is vulnerability,” she points out. 

Apart from vulnerability and openness, it is also important to be mindful, sensitive and in sync with each other’s needs. This is a critical aspect of exploring sex and sexuality in a healthy way. 

“Are you okay? Are you with me? Do we care for each other? What do you need for me? These are the questions we must be asking each other,” she emphasises.