Breathe
By Gabriela Gorab
I grew up in a family where medicine was not just a profession, but practically a language. Surrounded by neurosurgeons, pediatricians, pathologists and infectologists, I learned at an early age that knowledge is power and that health-including sexual health-should not be a taboo subject.
My mother, an infectious disease doctor and a sub-specialist in sexually transmitted diseases, talked naturally about HIV, prevention and the importance of information. For me, these topics were part of everyday life. What I did not imagine was that, outside the home, they could be a source of scandal.
I was about seven years old when my school-a Legionaries of Christ institution-asked us to bring an "innovative" topic to class for a presentation. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to talk about HIV. My mom helped me set everything up: we researched, put together handouts and printed them on that printer that sounded like a miniature tractor and put out the continuous paper with perforated edges that then had to be torn off. It was quite a process, but I was happy with my booklets ready to share.
Not even five minutes had passed. We had barely begun to talk when the teachers interrupted, picked up everything and cancelled the presentation. There was no discussion, just a tense silence. Soon after, we were sent for our moms. I don't remember details of the conversation, but I do remember the feeling of confusion and embarrassment. What had we done wrong? For me, it was a scientific, informative and necessary topic; for them, it was something forbidden, unthinkable in a primary school classroom.
That episode was a shock. Not only because our work was failed, but also because it was the first time I understood that certain topics were forbidden, even when the intention was educational. It was also a clash of realities: at home, my mom went to the UN, taught graduate classes at UNAM and fought for sexual health education; at my school, talking about HIV was a serious offense.
Over time, I came to understand that this resistance to knowledge was not an isolated case. Sex education continues to be a battleground, with absurd debates about whether children are "ready" to learn about their own bodies and health. But the truth is that ignorance has never protected anyone; on the contrary, it perpetuates fear, stigma and misinformation.
If I learned anything from that experience, it is that silence is not an option. And that, despite the obstacles, we must always find ways to talk about what matters.
The power of sexual energy
Today, neuroscientists such as Nicole Prause have studied how sexual energy influences motivation, productivity and mental health. Recent research shows that sexual desire activates the same areas of the brain related to creativity and decision-making (Prause et al., 2020). This suggests that, when channeled properly, sexual energy can be used to enhance focus, ambition, and goal manifestation.
Manipulating sexual energy in our favor
Knowing how to direct this energy consciously is key to harnessing its potential. In the Taoist tradition, practices such as seminal retention in men and ovarian breathing in women seek to redirect sexual energy toward vitality and longevity. In modern terms, this can translate into practices such as sublimation, where the energy of desire is transformed into creative impulse, or sexual mindfulness techniques, which enhance connection with the body and mind.
Psychologist Napoleon Hill, in his book Think and Grow Rich, spoke of the "transmutation of sexual desire", a concept based on the idea that the most successful individuals know how to channel their sexual energy towards productivity and innovation. According to Hill, great figures in history, such as Da Vinci or Tesla, understood that this energy, well directed, could lead to genius.
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