For many, there seems to be an unspoken rule that sex is a given part of our college and social lives, interlaced within endless dining hall debriefs of our nights. Sexual exploration in college is natural, even expected. Still, as we navigate these experiences, we must ask what a healthy sexual culture actually looks like, because underneath these encounters lies a striking inequality: the orgasm gap.

As I’ve observed, the orgasm gap is most common in a heterosexual climate — especially in an encounter where a woman might technically say “yes” but still walks away feeling dissatisfied, unseen or even used. In heterosexual encounters, men are far more likely to orgasm than women.

A study on orgasm frequency published in the Archives of Sexual Behavior found that 95 percent of heterosexual men reported usually or always orgasming during sex, compared to only 65 percent of heterosexual women. This yielded the lowest percentage and a notable disparity of pleasure among all gay, lesbian, bisexual and heterosexual men and women in the study.

The issue isn’t women’s bodies, the idea that they are “less sexual” or that they are inherently harder to please — common excuses used in arguments denying the orgasm gap — instead, the issue is deeply rooted in a culture that frames sex around men’s pleasure, essentially painting sex as something that is done solely for men.

To be clear, consent must always be the nonnegotiable baseline for sex. In its simplest form, consent means clear, enthusiastic and ongoing agreement between partners. Without it, sex is unsafe and unethical. But if that’s all we measure encounters by — just a yes or no — we risk ignoring a deeper conversation and face inequities that go unchallenged.

Consent ensures, at the bare minimum, a safe space. It gives us a clear line between a “yes” and a “no,” but it doesn’t tell us how to create an environment that is affirming, mutually pleasurable and respectful. This is where the orgasm gap becomes impossible to ignore.

From a neuroscience perspective, sexual activity is tied to the brain’s reward system. However, when encounters are one-sided or are not gratifying, the brain’s reward circuits respond differently.

Your brain becomes a reinforcing loop of dissatisfaction, especially for women who are conditioned to prioritize their partner’s experience over their own. The brain encodes vastly different lessons for men and women; men associate hookups with reward and satisfaction, while women may associate them with disappointment or even detachment.

In her research, social psychologist Grace Wetzel explains how “a cycle of orgasm inequality within relationships may be perpetuated when women who experience less frequent orgasms lower their desire and expectation for orgasm.” Over time, this imbalance not only shapes individual experiences but also entire norms around sex. If women are conditioned to expect less, they may stop advocating for more, further entrenching the cycle of sexual inequality.

This goes deeper into a sexual double standard that has shaped college culture for decades. Young women, as compared to their heterosexual male counterparts, face increased stigma or judgment for being sexually active. This double standard leaves women not only less likely to feel comfortable advocating for their own pleasure but also more open to internalizing the idea that sex is about performing rather than experiencing fulfillment.

Because of this, hookups are more likely to prioritize men’s pleasure, while women’s satisfaction is treated as optional or irrelevant.

A healthier campus culture won’t come from telling students not to hook up — hookup culture is here, and it’s here to stay. Change instead lies in making mutual pleasure part of the standard expectation, not an afterthought.

College is supposed to be a time of questioning, learning and redefining the way we see the world. That redefinition should extend to how we think about sex and, in tandem, treat sexual partners. Instead of accepting hookup culture as a dialogue where men’s pleasure dominates and women’s needs are sidelined, we must expect more: mutual respect, communication and a recognition that both partners deserve equal satisfaction.

By reframing sex around both pleasure and respect, we can begin to close the gaps and dismantle the double standards.

Aislinn Shrestha is a junior double-majoring in integrative neuroscience and speech and language pathology. 

Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the staff editorial. 

These are often less intellectually demanding, with many students choosing classes considered “the grade boosting option.” Among these are world languages, aesthetics and physical activity and wellness requirements, which we all collectively scramble to fill with highly sought-after “easy A” classes.

And while gen eds are intended to broaden our horizons, I wonder, in a part of our lives where we’re learning to handle very adult conflicts for the first time, be it with partners, friends, roommates, professors or even family, why aren’t there classes that explicitly teach us how to manage our emotions, communicate effectively and resolve conflict with empathy? Why isn’t emotional intelligence considered an essential in our DegreeWorks checklist?

Emotional intelligence is the ability to recognize, understand and regulate our emotions while being attuned to the emotions of others. It determines how we manage our behavior, navigate social complexities and make personal decisions that achieve healthy and positive results.

There are moments in life, messy, confusing, deeply human moments, where the skills that truly carry us forward aren’t taught in any of our required courses. In those moments, emotional intelligence is not just helpful — it’s essential.

Academic excellence alone no longer guarantees us life’s successes. We are constantly told to build resumes, achieve top GPAs and claw our way into internships, but no one teaches us how to survive in work culture, how to communicate needs in a relationship or how to navigate grief or burnout.

These are not fringe, avant-garde skills that take complex thinking to acquire — these are basic life skills. But because of how little their importance is noted, they are not something that is emphasized to implement into our lives. And yet, they are missing from the very place designed specifically to prepare us for life: college.

College is often the first time many of us experience true independence. It’s also the first time we face adult stressors: making sure we have enough money to make it through the semester, confronting loneliness, handling relationships, dealing with academic failure and questioning who we really are.

We learn to be adults not just through reading textbooks, but by actively living adulthood. Wouldn’t it make sense to offer courses that help us make sense of them?

Although there are places in colleges where these skills may be referenced, like by residential life or other small events, a class would be better suited to teach us how to properly manage conflict with a roommate, express needs in a romantic relationship, empathize with someone different from ourselves or process rejection and failure in healthy ways. Being taught how to set boundaries, communicate assertively or identify emotional triggers and respond rather than react — all situations I’ve been in numerous times since coming to college — is essential for developing as mature, capable adults.

These aren’t hypothetical luxuries — they’re real, valuable skills that would profoundly benefit every student, regardless of major.

Some may argue that emotional intelligence should be learned at home or through experience. But this presumes everyone comes to college with the same emotional toolkit, and that’s simply not true. From my own experience since coming to college, I’ve come to realize that there are gaps in my own ability to express emotions in a healthy way or even to seek help when struggling.

Even when I go home, I find myself teaching my parents things I’ve learned from developing a larger sense of emotional intelligence in college. The same way we don’t assume academic literacy will develop on its own, we shouldn’t assume emotional literacy will either.

Some schools are beginning to wake up to this need. Yale University currently offers a course called “The Science of Well-Being,” which includes components of emotional intelligence and has become one of their most popular courses. Other schools have embedded emotional literacy into first-year experience programs or leadership development tracks.

But these efforts are still the exception, not the rule. Binghamton and colleges everywhere should recognize that education must go beyond books and lectures — it should prepare us to be whole, functioning people in the world. In the four years we spend here, we are not just learning subjects but also learning ourselves.

If the goal of our gen eds is to create well-rounded graduates, then emotional intelligence deserves a place alongside writing and science. A course where we’re not asked to memorize or to active recall, but to reflect and be present — a class that doesn’t just teach us to succeed, but to connect, grow and be human. And in a world that’s increasingly automated and consequently, emotionally fragmented, being human is the most important skill of all.

Aislinn Shrestha is a sophomore double-majoring in integrative neuroscience and speech-language pathology. 

Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the Staff Editorial. 

I’ve come to slowly recognize and deconstruct #KillAllMen. We aren’t going out seeking the carnage of men with our guns ablaze but, rather, we are grabbing the very roots of this just outcry and implementing it to fully eliminate the deep misogynistic mindset that has been embedded in all of us. From this, I have come to realize the conversation must shift toward the interrogation of quotidian and internalized patriarchy rather than rhetoric — we must decentralize men and dismantle very “reflex-like” habits that continue to place men at the center of power, conversation and decision-making, that I and everyone else — even men — are guilty of.

Shockingly, in the context of attending university and as emerging young adults, decentralizing men, from what I’ve observed, stretch over a vast horizon of many common, day-to-day things. Observing and living immersed in college culture provided me with a clear lens through which we all can examine the pervasive need for male validation and how deeply ingrained this dynamic is.

From “hookup culture” stems a trend of not prioritizing female pleasure during sex and comparing ourselves to unrealistic expectations of how we are supposed to “perform” and “satisfy.” Instead of seeking to fulfill our pleasure, we may worry if we are checking the boxes for what an ideal body is “supposed” to look like to be deserving of pleasure. We may place our focus on inflating a man’s ego and making him feel good about himself rather than asking to create a moment that can be shared and enjoyable for both parties, in fear of asking “too much” of him.

Recently, I began opening discussions with friends about how we subconsciously alter the way we dress or act when going to frat parties or bars. We often sacrifice warmth and comfortability in our bodies for the classic tight-hugging jeans and tiny unsupportive tops that neither protect us from the below-freezing Binghamton weather nor reflect our individualistic styles. Even our social interactions and choices outside of our nightlife are influenced by the desire for male approval. We, consciously or unconsciously, in romantic, social or academic settings, often find ourselves tailoring our behaviors to appeal to men. While we may not necessarily need to ask for approval for our grades and right answers in class discussions, we might still change the way we speak to be taken seriously, trying so hard, only to receive less attention than men.

Though these adjustments aren’t institutionalized, the collective centering of men in our everyday agency allows their given power to traverse beyond individual behavior into the structural, reinforcing a societal norm in which male perception is mistakenly centered as the measure of worth and validation.

To reiterate, the need for male validation is not limited to women — I often find that many men also seek validation from other men, reinforcing internal patriarchal hierarchies. This is evident in the way men frequently defer to male authority, such as when we, as women, are completely ostracized or not even acknowledged around a boyfriend and his friends, who often respect the male authority in his group over you, as an individual, and engage in relentless competitive masculinity. Even in simple conversations between many men, you can clearly see the competitive need to one-up each other, presenting women as trophies to one another and prioritizing other male approval over genuine self-awareness.

Niobe Way, a psychologist who studied male friendships and emotional development, emphasizes that male-centered perspectives of “power,” “success” and “masculinity” prioritize dominance and competition rather than meaningful connection. By decentralizing men within their own circles, we can challenge this toxic masculinity and encourage healthier, more self-sustaining ideas of their identities that aren’t at constant rivalry over what is “valid.”

Decentering men in a setting where we all share the common goal of finding who we are and grappling with our changing identities involves fostering environments where our expression, self-worth and decision-making are held independent of male validation. This requires a cultural shift in how we view ourselves concerning men and how our actions are shaped by this ingrained expectation. Ask yourself — am I self-driven apart from how I may appeal to or gain approval from a man?

Michael Kimmel, a sociologist and expert on gender studies, argues that the greatest perpetrator of violence committed by men is not necessarily the testosterone but rather the unchallenged feeling of entitlement that comes with male privilege. The issue is not that men, by nature, are oppressive but that there is this preexisting notion that allows for the abuse of others under the shelter of social norms. To break this cycle, this entitlement must be actively unlearned, both in those who wield it and those who have been conditioned to accept or provide it, challenging not just the existence of privilege but its unconscious integration into identity and interaction.

So where does this leave us? You may ask the same questions I did, such as, what does decentralizing men even mean? The idea of decentralizing men is not about exclusion nor antagonism — it is about ensuring that men do not hold control over your thoughts and actions. Decentering men starts with centering yourself by prioritizing your own needs and desires over the expectations or validation typically sought from male partners or friends, reducing the influence of men in your life and decision-making process and setting boundaries. This inevitably means calling men out when they are clearly out of line — chances are that they have never been told otherwise, and their behavior has never been challenged.

“Kill all men,” although inherently contentious, branches out into a concept that we should all begin to consider, especially in our formative years of young adulthood and even if we don’t endorse the phrase itself. Where would we be if we were to discard the approval of men completely? Perhaps, free from misplaced prioritization and oppressive structures that limit our self-growth and, ultimately, emotional intelligence. It’s about creating a dynamic where men exist as equals rather than the gatekeepers of validation or the measures we use to define ourselves.

But if identity is shaped in opposition to these oppressive structures, are they truly independent? Perhaps the real question is not how we free ourselves completely, but how we reconstruct relationships in a non-oppressive way. Can we engage with men without being conditioned to seek their validation? Can men unlearn entitlement to dominance? The path forward is not in erasing men, but instead, in refusing to be defined by them, drawing a line at the point where we are forging connections that honor selfhood without sacrificing autonomy.

Aislinn Shrestha is a sophomore majoring in integrative neuroscience. 

Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the staff editorial.