'She Likes it Rough': Dissecting the Glorification of Rough Sex

By Easha Kapur -

Violence against women is now endemic.

The statistics reveal a harrowing reality: globally, an estimated 736 million women have been subjected to gender based violence in their lifetime - a figure that does not even include sexual harassment. Women continue to navigate a world where their bodily autonomy is routinely and systematically violated. 

But whilst overt sexual violence is mostly publicly condemned, another, insidious type of sexual violence often eludes scrutiny. That is the fetishisation of sexual violence itself; the public glorification of rough, reluctant, and sometimes even non-consensual sexual intercourse.

Porn Propaganda 

So how do we know that violent, rough sex has become fetishised in this way? The prevalence of choking during sex provides a fitting example. A study of young Australians found that 57% of respondents aged 18-35 had been strangled during sex at least once, and 51% had strangled a partner. Most concerningly, many participants reported that consent was not explicitly given beforehand, with 9.6% of women reporting that they "did not consent, but did not ask or motion for them to stop". 

Whilst the normalisation of violent sex might appear to be a diffuse cultural trend, it is not a blameless phenomenon. Although the cultural apparatus that sustains this normalisation is multifaceted, the media has a lot to answer for. 

Pornography - the most common avenue through which people first learn about sexual strangulation - plays a significant role in shaping sexual norms. Indeed, a study analysing 4009 heterosexual porn videos revealed between 35% and 45% contained at least one act of physical aggression; the most prevalent was choking. In a striking 97% of these aggressive acts the targets were women, who were frequently depicted as deriving pleasure from or remaining indifferent to the violence.

However, less 'taboo' mediums such as films and television shows further romanticise violence during intercourse. Though marketed as escapist erotica, franchises such as 365 Days and 50 Shades of Grey blur the lines between sexual coercion and romance. These cultural products actively shape and reinforce existing attitudes, as normalisation devolves into idealisation - idealisation that engenders expectation. 

Expectations: When Violent Sex is no Longer Optional

Still, it is easy to dismiss the 'violent' sexual intercourse portrayed in media as an idealistic semblance of sex: a poorly-acted, poorly lit, male fantasy, existing only in a seemingly far removed realm of make-believe. Given this, perhaps it is understandable why the fetishisation of rough sex is minimised - it is not regarded as 'true' violence. 

Still, this outlook is remiss in its assumption that the ideological violation of women's bodies online has no bearing on their exploitation in the real world. The cultural eroticism of sexual violence has profound real-world consequences, especially in shaping the expectations surrounding sexual encounters. This is perhaps most alarming in the normalisation of non-consensual strangulation. One 18-year-old interviewed for the "Breathless" campaign noted that young people have "...accepted that in sexual encounters [strangulation will] probably happen. They won't ask first".

That is not all; the gendered nature of these pressures is unmistakable. The Australian study found that more women (61%) than men (43%) reported having been strangled, along with 78% of trans or gender-diverse individuals. Meanwhile, more men (59%) than women (40%) reported having strangled a partner. Other studies have found that black women experienced more violence in pornography from both white and black men than was the case for white women. 

Though an uncomfortable reality to face, it is axiomatic that pornography thrives off positioning men as aggressors, whilst women (often of colour) are relegated to recipients of this aggression. As such, pornography becomes no longer an innocent medium for sexual pleasure but a complicit participant in the subordination of women. 

Still, whilst pornography is a major facilitator in the normalisation of violent sex, its presence in discussions of reducing violence against women is lacking. This is perhaps unsurprising; it is no secret that sex sells - the porn industry in the UK was worth a whopping £1 billion in 2005, multiplying to £6.6 billion in 2025, with a further projected growth to £10 billion in 2033.

But even recent regulatory statutes around pornography have not dedicated sufficient attention to regulating its content. The new Online Safety Act in the UK, for example, prevents under 18s from accessing pornographic sites. It does not interrogate the prevalence of violent, chauvinistic content within pornography itself; the actual content of pornography remains largely unchanged, with only ‘extreme pornography’ policed. These parameters are nebulous. 

It would be fitting to think of this Act, then, as a simple delay. It merely postpones the moment when young people are inundated with violent erotica, whilst its main legacy appears to be a public lesson in downloading a VPN. 

How Patriarchy Builds the Bedroom 

The inevitable retort, 'But she likes it rough?'.

It is frequently employed to deflect criticism of the violent portrayals of sex in the media. This is no wonder; it is much more comfortable to assume that one's bedroom proclivities exist entirely separately from the patriarchal apparatus we operate within. If we assume a liberal, choice-feminist, and frankly parochial, outlook, then yes, it is a woman's 'choice' to choose what makes her feel good in the bedroom.

But if we acknowledge violent sex as a perfectly normal bedroom fantasy for young women, it is worth examining who, or what, engendered that fantasy. 

Indeed, sexual socialisation for young women is somewhat inescapable. The association between sexual violence and pleasure is promoted to them incessantly, through media, films and rape culture. This ideology embeds itself from childhood, beginning the moment a girl is told the boy pulling her hair does so because he fancies her. In other terms, women have been socialised their whole lives to equate violence with pleasure, to equate intimacy with aggression. In a world that has told us that violence is 'sexy', no wonder young women may express a desire to be hurt during intercourse. 

This article does not seek to shame women for their sexual preferences, regardless of their origin. But as young women are constantly bombarded with distorted messaging, the line between genuine preference and internalised pressure becomes increasingly and inseparably indiscernible, for both individuals and for society at large. External expectations fuse with internal desire, blurring the line between the self and the social script.

Legally Blindsided: the Importance of Digitalising Sexual Offences

Given that the fetishisation of rough sex can be largely attributed to media socialisation, a corresponding legal revision is requisite to hold the media accountable. The law must recognise that digital content promoting violent sex is inherently harmful, that the degradation of women online bleeds into their mistreatment offline. This legal paradigm shift is essential to holding the media accountable.

This is even more pertinent given that digital sexual transgressions have metastasised beyond the idealisation of rough sex in the media. Today, deepfake technology increasingly targets women, non-consensually superimposing their faces onto explicit content. Whilst non-consensual deepfake pornography is illegal in the UK, it remains prevalent and poorly policed. As these violations run rampant in a regulatory vacuum, it is clear our laws are failing to keep pace with technology. Policymakers have a duty, then, to develop legal protections to shield women from the evolving threat of digital sexual abuse.  

However, legislation alone cannot solve a problem that is deeply internalised, embedded and socialised. We still have a long way to go in addressing digital and physical sexual violence against women, and the road to resolution is no doubt complex. 

But until we get there, I urge every woman, the next time someone says they 'like it rough', remember that your consent is yours alone. 

Pause, reflect. And choose.

Do they really? 

Do you really? 

Or is there a chance that you are expressing that preference because that is what you’ve been told to like, because you've been taught that violence is intimacy, that being hurt is somehow sexy?

Because if we never ask these kinds of questions, we will never know whose desires we are really fulfilling.