They say that you should never meet your heroes. But they never said anything about meeting your heroines.
The day I met Dr. Ruth was the very day I graduated from New York University with my doctorate in human sexuality. The meeting wasn’t planned, except by the Universe, which has a wonderful sense of humor if you ask me.
How else can you explain my meeting the woman who inspired me to become a sex therapist on the very day that I received my PhD?
I passed by her in the hallway of New York City’s Lotus Club, where I was picking up my parents for my graduation celebration and instantly recognized her. How could I not? This 4’7” powerhouse was a cultural icon by that time, made famous by her sexual advice talk show “The Dr. Ruth Show” and other cable television programs where she gave millions of viewers her signature frank, warm, and funny advice about everything that happens between the sheets.
But, to me, she was more than just a television personality. She was proof that it was possible to be taken seriously as a woman in the field of sex education. And I needed that proof. It can be difficult to explain to people that you’re pursuing a sex therapy degree, especially in the small Southern town where I grew up. It wasn’t a profession most people knew existed, and it wasn’t a word people even wanted to say out loud, at least not in ‘polite’ company.
Dr. Ruth helped to change all of that.
She made talking about sex okay, and she made laughing about sex okay. It’s hard for today’s generation to imagine, but if you’re of a certain age, you know that ‘the birds and the bees’ used to be something that we just didn’t discuss. Now imagine a tiny, Jewish woman in her 60s sitting comfortably in front of a camera and not only talking about sex, but doing so in a non-judgmental, casual way, as unperturbed as if she was talking about the weather.
So, when I met her in that hallway the night of my graduation, it felt like a blessing on my future; a sign confirming to me (and my family) my career choice wasn’t so crazy after all. She was as sweet and warm as she was on television, even as I fangirled all over her. She happily posed for a picture with me and my infant son Ethan.
Twenty years later, I got the opportunity to meet her once again, this time at an event we were emceeing in Chicago. A lot had changed in those 2 decades: I had my own successful sex therapy clinic, a line of sex toys, I’d written some bestselling books about sex (what else?) and had a few television shows under my belt.
But I still felt every inch the naïve schoolgirl when I got to sit beside her on stage and hold her hand. She was still The Dr. Ruth to me, the beacon of light that made my success possible and that made so many women and men feel comfortable talking about sex for the first time.
I showed her the photo that we had taken that day so many years ago. I told her how my son, just a baby then, was now in college. We connected as mothers and as women, but more importantly, I got to tell her how much she meant to me. How much she meant to the world.
She was brilliant, and brave, not just on the stage, but in life. After surviving the Holocaust, she emigrated to Israel and was a sniper in the Israeli army. Dr. Ruth was a trailblazer who deeply believed that sex was wonderful, and that we should all be able to talk about how wonderful, and how weird, and how funny, and how lovely sex can be. She destroyed sexual shame with nothing more than a twinkle in her eye, almost making you feel silly for ever thinking that sex was dirty in the first place.
I am so honored that I got to thank her for doing that. For me. For all of us. Rest in peace, Karola Ruth Westheimer, from your eternal fan-girl.