Gillian Anderson, best known for her iconic role as Agent Scully on The X-Files, has long embraced her status as both a sex symbol and a candid voice on topics of sexuality and desire. Over the years, she has evolved into a sophisticated role model, openly discussing these issues in interviews and on social media. Now, she has turned her attention to a new project, Want, a book that delves into the inner worlds of women’s sexual fantasies.
Want is a compilation of anonymous sexual fantasies submitted by women from around the globe. Anderson’s publisher invited women to share their stories through an online portal, resulting in an overwhelming response — 800,000 words in total. Clearly, Anderson reflects, “there was a need.” Her book features a curated selection of these fantasies, and as an added enticement, Anderson reveals that one of her own fantasies is hidden among them.
The project draws inspiration from Nancy Friday’s 1973 bestseller My Secret Garden: Women’s Sexual Fantasies, a book Anderson read while preparing for her role as sex therapist Jean Milburn on Netflix’s Sex Education. Friday’s book explored how, for many women, the fantasies in their minds often surpassed the physical realities of sex. Anderson’s collection follows this tradition, allowing women to express their desires, which are sometimes more stimulating than the “physical nuts and bolts” of intimacy.
Anderson organizes the letters into thematic groupings such as “Power and Submission,” “The Watchers and the Watched,” and “Gently, Gently.” Each chapter opens with a brief introduction from Anderson, in which she reminds readers that she isn’t a professional psychologist or therapist but rather an actor providing a space for these voices to be heard.
Though Anderson carefully avoids the most taboo topics explored in Friday’s book, like incest and bestiality, she doesn’t shy away from acknowledging the complexities of rape fantasies. Anderson makes it clear that such fantasies should be seen as controlled, imagined scenarios where women can play out dangerous situations safely within their minds, emphasizing that these fantasies are not endorsements of such behavior in real life.
The letters, ranging from just a few sentences to several pages, explore more than just physical desire. Some fantasies address deeper emotional needs, revealing a profound desire for acceptance and care. One writer dreams of an intimate moment with her partner, despite her disability, saying, “Far too often, sex is seen as the privilege of the able-bodied.” Another woman, recovering from a mastectomy, recalls the tenderness of her partner caressing her scar, an act of love that transcended her physical insecurities.
You might wonder, in an age where every form of sexual content is available at the tap of a screen, whether a book of anonymous fantasies still holds relevance. According to Anderson, the answer is a resounding yes. The fantasies in Want are raw, honest, and unfiltered. They provide an outlet for women to express their desires in ways that they may never act upon in real life. Anderson taps into the idea that many women still feel shame, or a lack of permission, to fully embrace their sexual imaginations. For some, fantasies are a refuge from the limitations or frustrations of their actual relationships.
One married writer, who experiences a lack of physical intimacy, shares that her fantasies were essential to her emotional survival. “Without my fantasies and my fluidity in imaginary world-building, I probably would have ended my life,” she writes.
Yet amid the intensity of the letters, there are moments of lightness and humor. Some fantasies veer into the wildly creative, featuring aliens, robots, and other unexpected players. These imaginative leaps serve as a reminder that sexual fantasies are deeply personal, and no one else can dictate what someone finds fulfilling or exciting.
Perhaps the most tender theme in Want is the desire not just to be sexually satisfied but to be truly seen and understood. One fantasy, written by a married woman, imagines her husband taking on simple responsibilities — hiring a cleaner, doing the grocery shopping — gestures that, while not inherently sexy, express care and consideration. It’s not the act of unloading a dishwasher that is erotic, but rather the thoughtfulness behind it, the demonstration of unprompted initiative that many women crave from their partners.
At its core, Want is about the complexities of female desire. It’s not just about sexual gratification; it’s about emotional connection, acceptance, and the longing to be desired. Anderson has created a space for women to express their fantasies without judgment, offering a window into the private worlds of desire that many still keep hidden.
In Want, Anderson invites readers to embrace their own imaginations and celebrate the freedom that comes with exploring their inner desires, proving that fantasies — whether playful, poignant, or provocative — remain a vital part of the human experience.