When contraception feels like a given… never questioned
You could say the 37 degrés story began over 15 years ago, when Gaëlle, co-founder, took the pill for the first time. To prevent pregnancy, to ease acne, but also to feel safe as she was beginning her sexual life. And because that’s just how it’s done.
For more than ten years, every evening at 8pm: an alarm, a routine. And a silent mental load.
Then came feminist readings, new words, questions — and the urge to challenge what once felt obvious. A desire, too, to understand what hormones actually do to the body, to mood, to desire.
“On the pill, I felt numb. Not happy, not sad. I didn’t really feel love.”
Gaëlle, co-founder of 37 degrés.
Matthieu’s path is different. In a relationship since high school, he grew up with an internalized belief: in heterosexual couples, contraception is a woman’s responsibility — and the pill is simply a given. His partner rejects that option, concerned about the many ways hormonal contraception can affect the body, health, and overall well-being. Two perspectives on contraception that don’t quite meet.
So how can a couple find common ground without contraception becoming a source of compromise or tension? What alternative could reconcile health, consent, and a shared life plan?
“I realized I could have approached things differently — that it wasn’t right, and that it went against the values I want to stand for.”
Matthieu, co-founder of 37 degrés.
Paths that converge
Stopping the pill marks a turning point for Gaëlle. Emotions come rushing back — intense — and her body wakes up. Alongside a difficult experience with an IUD, she discovers thermal male contraception through testicular lifting (TMC). A method still largely under the radar, but one that immediately makes sense.
With this approach, contraception no longer relies on hormonal disruption to her body, but becomes something shared — a dialogue between partners.
Meeting Matthieu marks another shift. Their paths, their questions, their sensitivities come together around a shared intuition: there is space for male contraception.
“Meeting Matthieu finally allowed me to see this as a real project — a meaningful one, with a genuine chance to exist. Because society is ready, and because our team is complementary and driven.”
Gaëlle, co-founder of 37 degrés.
Male contraception: a cultural blind spot
The reaction from Gaëlle’s partner at the time was immediate — and revealing of a lasting taboo. He would rather have stopped penetrative sex than adopt this method of contraception.
Then comes the anger at inequality: why does anything involving the testicles trigger such panic in some men? Why do men seem to fully own their bodies, while women do not? Contraceptive responsibility doesn’t naturally shift — it moves slowly, not without friction.
Today, her partner has taken over and uses thermal male contraception. Contraception has become a shared responsibility, part of everyday life — simple, non-invasive, and without side effects for either of them.
For Matthieu, it starts with a Christmas gift from his partner: the graphic novel Les Contraceptés by Guillaume Daudin and Stéphane Jourdain. That’s when thermal contraception enters the realm of possibility — sometimes referred to as a “heating brief,” a “Toulouse brief,” or more colloquially still.
He begins to read, to learn, to understand the impact hormones can have on the body. When he starts using thermal contraception with the support of the Zéro Millions association, trust doesn’t come immediately. His partner continues tracking her cycles.
Then, gradually, trust builds — sperm test after sperm test, through the discipline of the protocol, and later, with the first 37 degrés boxers.
This shift — from doubt to commitment — becomes a driving force. But even if the method exists, it still needs to be accessible, reliable, comfortable. And designed to last.
37 degrés: making intimacy a space for equity
One thing becomes clear: contraception is not just about women or methods. It’s political, it’s intimate — and it belongs in the conversation between partners.
So why has it never been approached through the lens of comfort, design, and desirability?
These are the questions 37 degrés sets out to answer. At the crossroads of medical innovation and intimacy, scientific rigor and lived experience.
With a simple yet radical belief: for male contraception to be adopted, it must fit seamlessly into the body’s rhythm — into everyday life, without discomfort.
Making intimacy a space for equity, trust, and sharing isn’t about shifting the burden from one body to another. It’s about opening a space for dialogue, reflection, and shared responsibility.
37 degrés is about giving men the tangible means to take ownership of their fertility — not as a constraint, but as an act of care. For themselves, for their partner, for their relationship(s).
