Leopard Print Is My Power Symbol—and Could Be Yours Too
Who taught you about sex?
I’m guessing the mechanics of what bits go where you may have picked up from biology lessons, porn, movie love scenes, and mostly on-the-job training. But the physical jiggery-rubbery-pokery isn’t all that sex is, is it?
Sex is how we feel about pleasure, what we should do, what we shouldn’t do, how we’re perceived if we do or if we don’t, what things are acceptable, if we should talk about it, how we should talk about it, how we should want it.
There’s a lot.
And this is what I’ll refer to as our messaging. The information we pick up along the way from parents, friends, religious communities, political movements and even TV programmes.
We form our ideas around sex from lots of different places - whether we’re conscious of them or not.
And guess what? I’m no different.
Leopard print is everywhere these days—on the high street, plastered across Instagram, even on the school run. But is that why I wear it?
Nope.
I had a spotted epiphany about 10 years ago that started whilst I was in a clothes shop. I bought pair of shoes. Fuck me pumps, if you will. I probably don’t buy shoes and clothes as much as some other women and I wear my things for a long time. If you keep something long enough it will come back into fashion? Yep, that’s me. Anyhoo, I still have these shoes.
They weren’t everyday shoes, not even weekly. If anything, they were ‘once-in-a-blue-moon’ shoes.
It wasn’t the towering heels that kept them in the box—it was the boldness. They felt daring, out of the ordinary, almost too much.
Out of nowhere, a clear memory came to me of Aunty Ann, a strong female matriarch in my family who made use of all of her sub-five foot height when she stood ‘tall’, puffed out her chest, jutted her chin attesting
“Because I can”
Determination, strength of character, a healthy dose of ‘family values’ were instilled in me, along with a fire to challenge ideas.
If you lived in the UK around the 80’s - 90’s kinda of era, you might be familiar with the character Bet Lynch from Coronation Street. Ballsy, blonde, brassy, fierce. And very often in patent leather, mini skirts and leopard print blouses.
And yet, here I was, proudly sporting these leopard-print pumps, feeling bold, daring, and just a little bit rebellious. The clash between my upbringing and the way these shoes made me feel was impossible to ignore. Was it really about the shoes, or was it about something deeper—a challenge to all the messages I’d internalized about what it means to be a ‘good woman’? This question sent me down a path of self-discovery, one that intertwined my choice of fashion with my understanding of sex, identity, and self-expression.
The messaging I received as a young woman from Aunty Ann and lots of females and males in my family was
“never trust a woman who wears animal print”
My memory is hazy so it may not have been Aunty Ann that said it but it was definitely the vibe I grew up with.
So buying and wearing my Fuck Me pumps felt REALLY bold!
It was only later when I developed an interest in feminine and masculine energies from a Tantra-esque perspective and primal desires and later still during my studies with SCU that I started questioning my own personal messaging around sex.
What I has learned was that primal desire was for want of a better phrase, animalistic.
For a woman to wear animal print was an expression of primal desire.
Therefore a woman in touch with or confident with her own sexuality was not to be trusted.
I blew my own mind!
And you can be absolutely sure that I wore them to feature in a recent boudoir photo shoot experience with Photo Nottingham!
So once a symbol of rebellion in my wardrobe, animal print became something far more meaningful as I unraveled these layers of messaging. It wasn’t just a pattern or a fashion choice; it was a conscious declaration. Each spot felt like a rejection of the old, whispered warnings about trust and a celebration of the primal, powerful energy I was reclaiming. These shoes became a catalyst—a stepping stone to exploring how I could express confidence, sensuality, and self-acceptance in ways that felt authentic to me.
Animal print feels like my way of embracing the primal, the bold, and the unapologetically sensual parts of myself. It’s about rejecting outdated messages that tell us to shrink ourselves, hide our desires, or distrust our confidence.
Leopard print is my reminder to stand tall, puff out my chest, and own who I am—just like Aunty Ann taught me.
Maybe it’s time for you to find your version of leopard print. What would it be?
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