“The orgasm gap” is a newly coined term for a decades-old concept, referring to the disparity in orgasms between men and women. Within the orgasm gap, there are subcategories of comparison: for example, heterosexual encounters for men to those of women, lesbian to straight sex, or a woman alone compared to a woman with a partner. Through exploring orgasm success within these groupings, the nuance of the orgasm gap becomes clearer: orgasm inequality overwhelmingly impacts women.

Women achieve climax less regularly than men do during heterosexual encounters; for example, in one study examining about 800 college undergrads, a 52 percent orgasm gap was discovered between men and women. However, this study did not ask participants for the context of the sex, and that is where another deviation occurs: committed relationships compared to casual sex. Data published in The American Sociological Review indicates that women have more satisfying sexual encounters while in relationships.

The orgasm gap then narrows further among homosexual and bisexual people. Research suggests lesbian women have significantly more orgasms than straight women; however, the orgasm rate does not vary significantly with sexual orientation in men. In his book “The Social Organization of Sexuality,” Edward O. Laumann found that orgasms carried a success rate of 95 percent for heterosexual men, 89 percent for gay men, and 88 percent for bisexual men, suggesting once more that the orgasm gap disproportionately affects women.

Additionally, women often have more orgasms when masturbating than when engaging in sex with a partner. Less than 10 percent of women reliably orgasm from penetration alone, most requiring clitoral stimulation. Both suggest that orgasm inequality originates from the cultural ignorance of the clitoris, in tandem with the significant societal overvalue of penetrative sex.

Generally, sexual education curriculums fail to focus on pleasure; many sex-ed curriculums even seek to limit sexual practices. 37 states require educators to teach information on abstinence, a birth control method that often then becomes the focus of these educational efforts. While pregnancy prevention is an important component of sexual education, focusing exclusively on contraception disregards another important aspect of sex: pleasure.

“If you’re talking about sexual pleasure and you ask what the female equivalent of the penis is, most people will say ‘vagina,’” says Amy Miron, sexuality and relationships professor at the Community College of Baltimore County, “but the vagina isn’t the equivalent of the penis—our equivalent for pleasure is the clitoris.”

In not focusing on pleasure, the majority of sex-ed curriculums focus on internal anatomy and largely ignore the clitoris. This is incredibly problematic because the more accurate information about genitalia a partner has, the higher the likelihood that their partner will orgasm. 

Miron adds that “In my opinion, what we need is more people talking about comprehensive sexuality education and talking about the nature and stimulation required for the experience of orgasm, and how it differs between individuals.”

Most sex-ed curriculums also fail to stress the importance of communication, a key component in comprehensive consent. In failing to teach about external anatomy, pleasure, or healthy forms of communication in sex education, young minds are heavily influenced by media images. For this very reason, many experts believe that pornography has become the new sex-ed. Unfortunately, porn (as well as mainstream media) regularly portrays women as orgasming from penetration and penetration alone, emphasizing the gap even more.

“Male orgasms are more visible,” Nancy Allen, professor of sexual health at Emerson College, admits. “They can be more readily and easily shown on screen, compared to female orgasms, which, outside of a small percent of women who can ejaculate, are internal.”

In such a visual medium, it can be hard to play up the pleasure of all-stars equally, Allen says. The presentation of men is just more outwardly expressive. “But then it’s also important to consider, who is the porn developed by and for?” she questions. The overwhelming majority of pornographic content is created for and by men, so there is an obvious emphasis not only the male orgasm, but on male orgasm signifying the conclusion of sexual intercourse. This on-screen representation (or lackthereof) may be foundational in how someone conceptualizes their gendered expectations during sex.

Hallie Mattia, a nurse-midwife at St. Vincent’s Medical Center, incorporates conversations about sex, consent, and pleasure into routine visits with patients. She says that teenagers and young adults are increasingly willing to engage in discussions about their sex lives; however, during these talks, Mattia reports hearing a staggering amount of misinformation. 

“These conversations have a lot to do with what my patients don’t know. Many of them have had no sex-ed beyond the basic mechanics of penis-in-vagina sex,” Mattia admits. Unfortunately, this kind of sex education is penetrative-focused while simultaneously enforcing heteronormativity and devaluing the experience of pleasure for gender-nonconforming bodies. 

So how do we even attempt to minimize the orgasm gap when the very concepts that construct it are ingrained from our earliest understandings of sex? Orgasm inequality results from what we are taught and what we aren’t. Communication is key, but it’s just not happening: pleasure is devalued in conversations surrounding sex. And if talking about pleasure is taboo, then forget orgasms for women!

However, pleasure should not be limited to just orgasming; it must exist in our vocabulary as extending beyond the mechanics of penetrative sex. To bridge the gap, we need to strive not only for comprehensivity but inclusivity. Reducing orgasm inequality rates is about the accessibility of pleasure beyond the mechanics of penetrative sex. It’s about having the resources to reshape the standard and to strive toward mutual pleasure; it’s about the accessibility of safe spaces where people can have an open dialogue about what makes them feel good. We need comprehensive sexual education, which means understanding the individualized nature and simulation necessary for the experience of orgasm is different in every individual. Bridging the gap is as much about orgasm equality as it is pleasure equity.