English Version | Cold Front

Ah passion, that omnipresent element of human existence. Sinful for those who commit it, frigid for those who avoid it. Our relationship with the heat generated by intimacy between two people (to say the least) is problematic. Consider the case of Queen Elizabeth I of England — fondly remembered as the Virgin Queen. By refusing to marry throughout her reign, this monarch defied not only the expectations of the society of her time but human nature itself. The intention behind such a compromise political strategy was, and to some extent still is, ignored. During her reign she was called “frigid”, and the historians who followed her time echoed similar sentiments. But her compromise (and sacrifice, we dare infer) served a laudable purpose. In such an aggressively patriarchal world, marriage would mean that she would lose not only her autonomy but her authority. Instead of giving in to overwhelming cultural pressure, the Queen channeled her energy into governing the United Kingdom — creating a legacy of love for her country, art, and people. In fact, what the history books tell us is the opposite of what remains of her memory in popular culture. Elizabeth was not socially cold; on the contrary, she was a master of diplomacy and charm. Needless to say, because she was a powerful woman, at least 50% of the population spent her reign looking for excuses to hate her.

Okay, now that we've reached the second paragraph we can get to the heart of the matter: yes, it's all just misogyny in disguise. Coldness has historically been used to shame women — Queen Elizabeth is just the tip of the iceberg. Some of the most important names in human history, from Queen Victoria to Emily Dickinson, have been accused of the same sin. The lack of sexual desire, so associated with the idea of purity, has become a double-edged sword for women. Guilty if they break celibacy, guilty if they don't. The label of “frigid” is based on the historical (and, of course, extremely insulting) expectation that women should be passive, expected to feel sexual desire, not for their account, but for the male will. This framework ignores the complex interplay between biology, psychology and emotional factors that affect libido. Prescribed social expectations, dictated by men in patriarchal societies, are molded to their ideals. But who can we blame if not the eternal scapegoat of all our psychosexual notions, Sigmund Freud? According to his theory (or at least one of many, each stranger than the last) women who didn't show sexual desire suffered from “frigidity,” an unresolvable condition resulting from any trauma contracted in childhood. But of course, what Freud declared as law has already been hotly debated and refuted. Among the different waves of the feminist movement, desire was reclaimed as a woman's right. The sexual autonomy movement, which materialized in the '60s and '70s, challenged the label of frigid woman. Sexual desire is complex, diverse and certainly shouldn't be used as a tool of oppression.

The social and cultural component is relevant, we would even say extremely important, but there is a biological dimension. To understand its chemical context, we first need to understand its antithesis. Fervor is characterized by intense passion, energy and enthusiasm—basically a state of desire that is active to the extreme. In comparison, frigidity may seem like absence, but it's the exact opposite. Fervor is not our natural state, it is a level of emotional energy that is achieved by the release of a series of pleasurable chemicals in our brain. In biological terms, this state is an activation of dopamine-driven motivation systems, while its opposite is understood as a reduced level of this distilled euphoria. But of course, this question, like all others that seek to understand the human experience, is far more complex than a mere binary between cold and hot. These matters don't exist in a vacuum, you don't just flip a switch. While fervor can be motivated by involvement, rigidity often results from emotional detachment. An emotionally detached person may not feel the passion and desire for sex.

We've reached a turning point, where more precise definitions are needed. If we want to understand frigidity as a medical condition, then we have to define it as such. For this article, we understand the concept of a reduced libido. Now, with the diagnosis made, we can consider a number of physiological factors to explain it. The most obvious reason is hormonal imbalances. Obviously, sexual desire is strongly influenced by hormonal balance, particularly estrogen, progesterone and testosterone. Low levels of these hormones in anyone can lead to a reduction in libido. For example, estrogen is essential for maintaining vaginal health and lubrication, and when levels drop, sexual desire can decrease. Similarly, neurological factors are the basis of sexual desire - any disturbance to these affects libido. Neurotransmitters such as dopamine, serotonin and oxytocin play essential roles in regulating pleasure, desire and sexual arousal. A dopamine deficiency can result in an inability to feel sexual pleasure, while serotonin imbalances can suppress sexual desire.

Ah, but biology alone doesn't tell the whole story. Sexuality has as much to do with the mind as the body, and psychological factors often intertwine with physiological ones, creating a complex network of influences that shape libido. Emotional detachment, depression, anxiety and unresolved traumas can suppress desire. Stress, in particular, is a notorious culprit - when the body's instinct to prioritize survival mechanisms takes over, pleasure and intimacy become secondary. The release of cortisol during times of stress counteracts the dopamine and oxytocin needed to feel turned on or aroused, creating a direct and immediate impact on sexual desire. Childhood experiences also play a profound role in shaping the ability to experience intimacy later in life (Freud be damned). For some, growing up in environments where affection was denied or conditioned can create barriers to forming emotionally fulfilling relationships. Others may develop feelings of shame about their own sexuality due to cultural or family expectations. These factors often manifest as emotional blockages, further reducing libido and reinforcing feelings of disconnection.

Social and cultural influences also weigh heavily on the psyche. The expectations placed on women to fulfill certain roles - as caregivers, wives or even objects of desire - often create an internalized pressure that stifles authentic intimacy. Women are often subjected to contradictory standards: they are expected to be sexually available, but at the same time they are judged for expressing their desires. In a patriarchal structure, this double bind becomes not only a source of psychological stress, but also a direct impediment to sexual fulfillment. The impact of the relationships themselves cannot be underestimated. Feelings of resentment, lack of trust or insufficient communication within a partnership often erode the emotional connection necessary for sexual desire to flourish. Intimacy thrives in environments of safety and vulnerability, but without these, it can quickly falter.

It doesn't help that, in matters of intimacy, our greatest insecurities are brought to the fore. A lack of confidence in one's own body can directly inhibit libido. For people who struggle with these feelings, intimacy can seem frightening or inaccessible. Mental health problems, such as depression and anxiety, can amplify these difficulties, creating a feedback loop in which decreased desire reinforces feelings of inadequacy or isolation. All of this reinforces a central truth: desire, or the lack of it, is never just one thing. It is the product of a complicated dance between biology, psychology and context. Hormonal imbalances or neurochemical disturbances may serve as a physiological backdrop, but emotional health, social expectations and interpersonal dynamics fill in the rest of the story. Each factor intertwines, making the experience of sexual desire - or frigidity - unique to each individual. Understanding this interaction is essential to dismantling the myths and stigmas surrounding frigidity. The simplistic binary of fervor versus frigidity doesn't capture the richness of the human experience. Instead, it's much more accurate to see desire as fluid and multifaceted, shaped by countless internal and external forces.

Translated from the original in The Passion Issue, published February 2025. For full story and credits, see the print issue.