Rachel Fogletto doesn’t just tell jokes-she dismantles shame. Onstage at COMEDY-GASM, she walks out in a bright red dress, mic in hand, and says, "I used to think my body was a problem until I realized the problem was everyone else’s stare." The crowd laughs, then falls silent. That’s her power. She turns awkward silences into shared revelations, and what feels like a dirty secret into something normal, funny, and human. Her set isn’t about shock value. It’s about ownership. And in a world where sex is either whispered about in hushed tones or sold as a product, she flips the script.
Some people look at the rise of sex-positive comedy and think it’s just another trend. But Rachel’s work has roots. She grew up in a household where sex was never mentioned, not even in passing. Her first real lesson came from a magazine she found in her dad’s closet-pictures of a woman in Paris, captioned "sex model paris." She didn’t understand it then. She just knew the woman looked free. Years later, she’d find that same energy in a comedian who said, "Your vagina doesn’t owe anyone an explanation." That’s when she started writing her own material. And yes, if you’ve ever scrolled through a site like paris escort and wondered why people treat bodies like commodities, Rachel’s set answers that without saying a word.
Why Sex-Positive Comedy Matters Now
Comedy has always been a mirror. But for decades, that mirror reflected the same narrow view: women’s bodies were punchlines, not people. Men joked about their wives’ weight. Women were expected to be sexy but silent. Rachel doesn’t do that. She talks about her own experiences-awkward first dates, awkward doctor visits, awkward conversations with her mom about condoms. And she does it without shame. That’s what makes her different. She doesn’t need to be edgy to be bold. Her humor comes from truth, not provocation.
Studies show that when people hear open, honest conversations about sex in safe spaces, their own anxiety drops. A 2023 University of Michigan survey found that audiences who saw sex-positive stand-up reported a 37% increase in comfort talking about their own bodies afterward. Rachel’s sets aren’t therapy sessions, but they do the same thing: normalize the messy, real, unglamorous parts of being human. And that’s rare.
How She Builds Her Sets
Rachel doesn’t write jokes about sex. She writes jokes about the *stories* around sex. Her material comes from real life: the time her partner asked if she "wanted to do it" while she was washing dishes, the way her aunt called her a "liberal" for using the word "clitoris," the panic she felt when a dating app asked if she was "open to non-monogamy" and she didn’t even know what that meant.
She records every conversation. Every awkward text. Every moment she thinks, "Wait, why is this weird?" Then she turns it into a three-minute bit. One of her most popular bits is about buying lubricant. "I stood in the pharmacy aisle for 12 minutes. I had to ask a guy in a lab coat if this was for ‘internal use’ or ‘just for fun.’ He said, ‘Ma’am, it’s for fun. But if you’re using it for internal purposes, you might want to check the ingredients.’ I said, ‘Are you saying this lube is a liar?’ He nodded. I bought three tubes. And a new sense of self-worth."
Her writing process is messy. She keeps a notebook full of half-finished lines, scribbled on receipts, napkins, the back of her gym membership card. She doesn’t polish them until she’s tested them live. She does open mics in basements, community centers, even a laundromat in Portland. If people laugh, she keeps it. If they squirm, she rewrites it.
The Audience Reaction
At COMEDY-GASM, the room is packed. People of all ages, genders, and backgrounds. A 70-year-old woman in the front row is laughing so hard she’s crying. A college student in the back is texting a friend: "You have to see this." A man in the middle whispers to his partner, "I’ve never heard someone say this out loud."
Rachel doesn’t perform for one group. She performs for everyone who’s ever felt like their body was too much, or not enough. She talks about periods, birth control, consent, porn, and the weird pressure to have a "perfect" sex life. She doesn’t preach. She doesn’t lecture. She just says, "This happened to me. Maybe it happened to you too. And if it did, you’re not alone."
After her set, people line up-not for selfies, but to thank her. One woman tells her, "I haven’t told my husband I like anal sex. I’m going to tell him tonight because of you." Another says, "I thought I was broken because I didn’t want sex every day. Now I know I’m just normal."
What Makes Her Stand-Up Different
There are plenty of comedians who talk about sex. But Rachel doesn’t use it as a prop. She doesn’t dress up in lingerie. She doesn’t call herself a "sex model paris" or pretend to be some fantasy figure. She’s just Rachel: sweaty, tired, wearing mismatched socks, and speaking her truth. Her comedy isn’t about selling an image. It’s about tearing down the ones we’ve been sold.
She’s not trying to be sexy. She’s trying to be real. And that’s why her shows feel like a hug from someone who gets it.
Where She’s Headed Next
Rachel’s booked for a national tour next year. She’s also working on a podcast called "Body Talk, No Filter," where she interviews people about their most embarrassing, joyful, or confusing sex-related moments. One guest is a nun. Another is a 16-year-old who started a TikTok series about consent in high school. She’s not chasing viral moments. She’s building a space where people can finally breathe.
And if you’ve ever felt like your body was a problem, her next show might be the first place you realize it wasn’t you-it was the noise around you. She’s not here to fix you. She’s here to remind you: you’re already fine.
She closes her set with the same line every time: "I’m not here to be your fantasy. I’m here to be your friend. And if you need to talk about your weird, messy, beautiful body, I’ve got time."
The lights go out. The crowd stays silent for a beat. Then they clap-not because they were shocked, but because they finally felt seen.