So Friday placed an ad in New York magazines and newspapers, asking women to write to her anonymously about their sexual fantasies. The response was overwhelming. Hundreds of letters poured in—from housewives, students, nuns, therapists, and factory workers. The women ranged in age from 19 to 65. What they shared was a secret world that had never been mapped. My Secret Garden is not a linear narrative but a mosaic. Friday organized the fantasies into loose themes: dominance and submission, group sex, voyeurism, homosexuality, sadomasochism, and even bestiality. She included fantasies about strangers, celebrities, and tender encounters with familiar partners.
As Friday herself wrote in a later edition: "A fantasy is a secret garden. It is the only place where you can be free. No one has the right to enter it, to judge it, to tell you what grows there. And you have the right to keep it secret—or to share it. The choice is yours." More than fifty years after its publication, My Secret Garden remains a radical document—not because its content is shocking by today’s standards, but because its premise still challenges us. In an age of online oversharing, many women still struggle to admit the shape of their own fantasies, especially those that seem politically or personally uncomfortable.
More than that, My Secret Garden gave women permission. Permission to fantasize without guilt. Permission to separate private thoughts from public identity. Permission to be complex, contradictory, and sometimes messy in their desires.
Whether you read it as a historical artifact, a piece of feminist literature, or a mirror held up to your own secret self, My Secret Garden invites you to ask a simple question: What grows in yours? My Secret Garden By Nancy Friday
Mainstream critics called the book pornographic. It was banned in several countries. Booksellers hid it behind counters. Friday received hate mail calling her a corrupting influence.
Nancy Friday’s great gift was to normalize the abnormal, to humanize the forbidden, and to remind us that the imagination is not a crime scene—it is a garden. Wild, unruly, and deeply our own.
Friday’s central thesis was radical for its time: Instead, she argued, fantasies are a psychological playground—a safe space where the mind can explore power, fear, taboo, and desire without consequence. So Friday placed an ad in New York
Additionally, Friday’s framing occasionally echoes the very gender binaries she sought to dismantle. She sometimes reinforces the idea of "male" versus "female" sexuality as inherently different, rather than seeing variation across individuals.
In 1973, a book landed on shelves with a plain cover and an explosive premise. Titled My Secret Garden: Women’s Sexual Fantasies , it was the work of Nancy Friday, a former journalist and editor who had grown frustrated with the gap between how women were supposed to feel about sex and how they actually felt.
For the first time, many women saw their own secret thoughts reflected on a printed page. The shame began to lift. Reading My Secret Garden today, modern audiences will notice certain limitations. The fantasists are overwhelmingly white, heterosexual, and middle-class. Friday’s analysis sometimes veers into pop-Freudian language that feels dated. And her insistence that all fantasies are healthy and apolitical has been challenged by later thinkers who point out that fantasies do not exist in a vacuum—they are shaped by culture, power, and inequality. The women ranged in age from 19 to 65
Second-wave feminists were divided. Some praised Friday for demystifying female desire and rejecting the male-dominated narrative of what women should want. Others accused her of handing ammunition to the patriarchy—proof, they worried, that women secretly craved submission, rape fantasies, and male dominance.
Yet the book’s historical importance is beyond dispute. Before My Secret Garden , there was virtually no public conversation about women’s erotic imagination. After it, that conversation became impossible to avoid. Nancy Friday went on to write several more books on female and male sexuality, including Forbidden Flowers (1975) and Men in Love (1980). But My Secret Garden remained her most famous work.
Its influence can be seen in everything from the rise of erotic fiction for women (from Fifty Shades of Grey to the explosion of online fanfiction) to the normalization of discussions about fantasy in sex therapy and popular media. Podcasts, advice columns, and Netflix documentaries about desire all stand on ground that Friday helped clear.
What shocked many readers—and what remains striking today—was the sheer variety. Some fantasies were gentle romantic scenarios. Others were violent, transgressive, or politically incorrect by any era’s standards. Women fantasized about being overpowered, about watching others have sex, about sex with animals, about incestuous encounters (often with guilt attached), and about purely anonymous, emotionless pleasure.