The inaugural season of Allure Perspectives will explore one of the most controversial and medically researched parts of a woman’s body: breasts. Through expert interviews, personal stories, and historical context, the podcast series, hosted by editor in chief Jessica Cruel, will examine how breasts intersect with beauty, health, identity, sexuality, and culture. In our third episode, Cruel talks with sex educator and breast cancer survivor Ericka Hart about breasts as an erogenous zone, the nipple double standard, going topless in public, and much more. Subscribe wherever you get your podcasts for new episodes every week.
Ericka Hart, a sex educator and author, began her career in teen pregnancy prevention in New York City. The experience inspired her to go back to school and ultimately create her own sex ed curricula (which she’s taught at the elementary through graduate levels) because she felt like traditional sex ed classes had shameful undertones. “This doesn’t feel like we’re actually reaching folks and making them feel good in their bodies,” Hart recalls of her thinking when she first realized she wanted to become a sex educator. “We’re just scaring them.”
Since then, Hart has made a career (and cultivated a large following) out of spreading shame-free messages about sexuality, gender identity, disability, and chronic illness both inside and out of the classroom. Hart is a breast cancer survivor who underwent a double mastectomy as part of their treatment and is adamant about diverse breast representation. “Not all breasts have nipples,” they say simply.
In the third episode of Perspectives, Hart speaks with Allure editor in chief Jessica Cruel about the need to recenter pleasure in sex ed, how a cancer diagnosis changed her relationship with her breasts, and how posting topless photos became an important part of her activism.
On why pleasure shouldn’t be ignored in sexual education
Hart’s sexual education was centered around abstinence, a method they now believe does a great disservice to the people attending the classes. “A lot of our sex education protocols are rooted in keeping people from information, but making it look like they have it because they’ve attended this class,” Hart tells Cruel. “Maybe they know what the reproductive system is, but they don’t actually know what consent is.”
Breasts, Hart has found, are rarely brought up in those traditional classes, even though they can play a huge role in enjoying sex—or not. “In terms of erogenous zones, I think it’s important to talk [about] breasts and nipples and also the fact that you might not experience any pleasure there,” Hart says. Hart often asks students to really consider: “Is this something that actually feels good to you, or do you think it feels good for the other person?”
On their breast cancer diagnosis
Hart got the diagnosis call while walking down the street in New York City. “I just kinda sat down on the bench and everything went silent,” they recall. “The only thing I could muster was, ‘Am I gonna die?’” Hart says getting the diagnosis, in ways, was also relieving. “Waiting to hear back about your results is treacherous.”
Although Hart had been vigilant about doing self exams since her mother passed from breast cancer, it was Hart’s ex-wife who found the lump that ultimately turned out to be cancerous. “This happens a lot in queer, lesbian dynamics,” she says. “Another person who may also have breasts finds the lump. They’re like, ‘I touch these all the time. This doesn’t feel right.’”
Hart had just gotten a full-time job as a sex educator at a non-profit that would give them health insurance, but was still in the probationary period where the benefits hadn’t yet kicked in. “I had to meet with HR two days after being hired to say, ‘Hey, I need those benefits now but also I can’t work for, like, a month and a half because I have to have a double mastectomy,’” Hart recalls. “I worked all through chemo, which was hell, but that’s the reality for so many people.”
