here's looking at you, Mr. Clean
Above: The Cambridge Women’s Pornography Cooperative’s new book, “Porn for Women.”
The premise is simple enough—dress men up in domestic drag, and the women will drool. (I’ll admit, I laughed). All joking aside, though, the joke is based on a painful ideal of wish-fulfillment: women still work the legendary double day, and albeit a few exceptions, many men still act as though the dishwasher had an invisible sign that said “Estrogen Required.”
But this ain’t my main beef with the Pornography Cooperative. Don’t get me wrong, I find the occasional Sensitive Male as hot as the next gal, and as a gimmick, this book is pretty cute. A guy who’s intelligent, hot, and domestic? Count me in! But where’s my highly objectifiable imagery of fucking and sucking told from a female perspective? Is this really what the Cooperative thinks gets women off?
I realize I’m nitpicking, but that whole “women aren’t really sexual creatures, except when hubby finishes chores” meme is kinda annoying. Must we always be portrayed as conditionally desirous? Can’t we have our eye candy too? (And no, the primarily gay audience that devours Playgirl doesn’t count. That rag isn’t staying afloat from het female subscriptions, that’s for sure.)
I’m sure evidence will be thrown at me that women just “aren’t visual creatures”, but I’m not sure that isn’t just cultural wishful thinking. The chicks I know talk about hot guys all the time! So could it be that the porn industry just hasn’t found our market yet? Or is porn a phenomenon that will always belong to one side of the gender gap?
(This message brought to you from the Department of Cheekily Overanalyzing Cheesy Coffee Table Books.)
Birth control woes: the price is higher at American universities
So CNN reports that the price of birth control at college—even generic birth control—will double or triple in the next few months, as a Medicaid incentive program ends and contraceptive manufacturers lose the incentive to offer the Pill on the cheap. The overall price of maintaining a contraceptive regimen could be an additional few hundred dollars for the average college chica.
No fan of safety nets myself, I can’t chastize the government for taking cost-cutting measures—when appropriate. Yet I can’t see how this is going to save taxpayers money in the long run. So now women who can’t afford foolproof contraceptives are just supposed to “manage”? While I’m sure many of us will get along just fine, there’s just that much more risk for someone to slip through the cracks, experience an unwanted pregnancy, and then raise a child without the benefit of a college education to help pay the bills. Isn’t that more of a drain on our economy than $8-a-month Yasmine or Seasonale?
What do you think?
(Oh, and PS, this is definitely happening at Penn. Last time I checked, generic birth control was about 6 simoleons more expensive than last years’ offerings. While that’s chump change to many Penn students, that cost per month isn’t trivial to many other Penn kids.)
ETA: Feministing has a write up of the rise in birth control costs—check it out, the debates are always interesting to observe.
Also, Feministing reports that Republican Senator Daniel Patrick of Texas is offering $500 for women to give up their babies for adoption instead of aborting them. $500 is the price tag that this man would put on the arduous, thankless task of pregnancy and childbirth? I guess according to Patrick that women’s bodies are for sale—and that our price is veritably worthless. A sickening move from the party of “moral values.”
DePauw to DZT: No, It's You Who Ain't Good Enough
Closure has arrived to the DePauw/Delta Zeta sorority scandal as the president of DePauw released a statement evicting DZ from campus:
“We at DePauw do not like the way our students were treated,” DePauw’s president, Robert G. Bottoms, said in a letter to the Delta Zeta sorority. “We at DePauw believe that the values of our university and those of the national Delta Zeta sorority are incompatible.”
I’m glad to see academia standing up to the institutionalized sexism and lookism that Delta Zeta’s practices represented. Let’s hope that the future of American sororities is a little more rosy—and a little less peroxide-d.
Dear NOW: censorship ain't haute!
So Dolce and Gabbana is pulling this ad due to reactions from women’s rights groups. For instance, Kim Gandy, the president of the National Organization for Women, claims that this advertisement “promotes violence against women”.
First off: let it be known that I understand and appreciate that some women may be offended by this image. The reality of sexual assault, rape, and violence against women is no laughing matter, and I would never presume to take such an awful crime against women lightly.
However, to me, the fact that the Pres of the National Organization for Women is saying that this ad indisputably “promotes violence against women” is offensive and condescending to me, as a woman.
Has Ms. Gandy considered that there is a DIFFERENCE between imagery (fantasy) and the reality of sexual assault and violence against women? That some of her constituents may find this image arousing and want to construct a similar scenario in a safe, sane, and consensual manner? That many men are going to realize that this is a “fantasy” image, and that no one ever committed sexual assault with a fashion advertisement as their pretense?
Honestly, even if this does offend some women, why is NOW spending a second of time worrying about this? I do not care about Dolce and Gabbana’s ad campaign (well, I do, but not in the sense of a political action group designed to protect my rights as a woman). The money I pay to be a member of NOW should be going to protect my abortion rights, contraceptive rights, my equal opportunity in the work force, my rights in the public sphere.
NOW, with feminism as a movement on such thin ice with sisters of my generation… I do not care about a glossy,stylized Dolce and Gabbana advert.
I care about my local pharmacist denying me Ortho-Tri Cyclen Lo, and the inability of some of my feminist sisters in rural areas to find quality reproductive health care, contraception, or a safe abortion.
I care about my future employer denying me maternity leave and society denying competent working women comprehensive, affordable child care.
I care about the continued disenfranchisement of minority women.
I care about the REAL violence and sexual assault against my sisters that happens every day.
I’m not sure how policing an advertisement is at all constructive or deserving of NOW’s attention, and I find her commentary about the ad to be disturbingly sex negative (women aren’t allowed to have politically incorrect fantasies!) In the interview, she makes a statement insinuating that women shouldn’t have rape fantasies. Say what? Some women do, some women don’t. It doesn’t make you a bad feminist regardless!
NOW has on their party line an “anti-sadomasochism” statement, saying that BDSM “promotes violence against women”. Combine that with this and I’m questioning whether or not NOW is a group which is truly in touch with the sex-positive views of its constituents.
But sitting on our duffs and complaining about NOW’s well-intentioned but misguided priorities won’t do us good. Instead, we can let NOW know that there are better uses for our time than critiquing silly fashion ads.
Write to NOW and let them know how you feel:
Address:
National Organization for Women
1100 H Street NW, 3rd floor
Washington, D.C. 20005
Phone: (202) 628-8669 (628-8NOW)
Fax: (202) 785-8576
DePauw DZ Chapter to Women: "You're Not Pretty, er, Committed Enough!"
So the blogosphere is abuzz with this controversial NYT article about the Delta Zeta sorority chapter which kicked out over 2/3rds of its members for their “lack of commitment” (read: not being white, thin, or popular enough with frat boys.) Naturally, talking heads are rolling, child psychiatrists are lamenting the downfall of American society, and the rest of us act as if golly, a sorority has never been critiqued for being superficial.
I’ve always been jealous of the kind of chicks who seem totally happy with their sororities. As an alien to Greek life, I’ve always envied the giddiness on girls’ faces when they talk about the exhilaration of rush, the girl bonding that occurs during pledging, and the lifelong friendships that exist as a result. Girls at Penn (which I believe is one of the only Ivies to allow Greek life) wear their charm necklaces with pride—badges of membership in a special, exclusive club that not everyone can share. The group aspect sounds like it could be delightful, fun, friendly. Yet as this article shows, not all is well in Tri-Delt paradise.
The best part of the article is that 6 of the 12 DZ girls asked to stay left, in order to support their ex-communicated friends. That, to me, is real sisterhood—supporting each other even when peer pressure would make the opposite tempting. Those girls don’t need charm bracelets or midnight rituals to be friends. To me, that’s real community, real “girl power.”
(That’s the group of rejects at the top, by the way. Peroxide blonde and waif thin this group ain’t, but they’re all radiantly gorgeous in their own way. Oh, and chicks with glasses? HOT.)
Image credit: Andrew Hancock for the New York Times
ETA: The generally Awesome blogger Susie Bright has a well-written (albeit a bit less optimistic) write up on her blog about the DZ fiasco.
Double ETA: Awwwwww! One of the ex-sorority members’ boyfriends wrote an article lamenting the sexist, lookist bullshit behind the Delta Zeta axing. You go, boy! The world needs more smart men like you.
anonymity, or lack thereof, in "the pink ghetto"
“When I reason it out I don’t feel guilty about what I’ve done. I was having lots of casual sex before anyway. I would go out on a date and hook up with some guy and not even enjoy it that much. So why not get paid for what I was doing anyway? And I do feel like it’s an honest living like any other, a service provided. The only thing that bothers me, when I think about it, is that now I have a secret so deep that I can never tell anyone. That someday I may have a lover or a soulmate, someone I want to share my life with. And I will never, ever be able to tell him.”
Confessions of a College Callgirl
I’ve been thinking about sex writing, sex work, and the intersection of the two in the blog world lately, after reading the wonderful new-ish blog Confessions of a College Call Girl, Lux Nightmare’s Sexerati essay series, “The Pink Ghetto,” and Audacia Ray’s thought provoking post about her ambivalent relationship with academia and sex work. For those not in the know, the “pink ghetto” is the new catchall for employment at the periphery or sexual respectability—the ambiguous, stigma-filled position one experiences when their work is pigeonholed as “NSFW” and is marginalized or dismissed as a result. As Audacia playfully notes, some of us “waltz” into the Pink Ghetto, with nary a second thought about the lost political opportunities we’ve left behind, conservative relatives we’ve embarrassed, and sexually vanilla acquaintances we’ve alienated. As I’ve never particularly cared for having “Senator” accompany my name or dreamed of a spot on The 700 Club, I gleefully hopped, skipped, and jumped into the world of sex writing and sex editing myself.
Yet even a ghetto amenable to waltzing is still a ghetto. And as a privileged middle class white girl, I can get away with pushing the envelope in a way that others maybe couldn’t. And this probably fucks up the metaphor a little bit, but this is a ghetto with layers. Heck, this blog is eponymous, and I’ve always been “out”—and so has Lena Chen, Miriam Datskovsky, Rachel Kramer Bussel, Jessica Cutler, and Julia Baugher Allison. But are any of us call girls? Some of us pose nude online and have cameos in porn movies featuring cleavage ‘n cupcakes, but none of these broads have ever (as far as I know!) schtupped dudes for cash. In other words, it’s Generally OK and Accepted™ to write about sex (even though it sucks when yet another blind date assumes you’ll blow him because you blog). But to actually attach your name, in public, to the world’s oldest profession? I can’t recall a blog in which someone attached their Real Name™ to sex work—even Belle de Jour, the fabulous author who has become famous for writing about her johns, is famously attached to her anonymity.
I don’t mean to come down on Confessions for not revealing herself. Christ, the Internet is scary enough to blog on without putting out personal info, and there are a lot of wackos out there who would love to get their hands on a loquacious former call girl. Yet what’s fascinating about Confessions is that contrary to Lifetime portrayals and the annals of Jerry Springer, this chica is not some down-on-her-luck tenement squatter with track marks on her arm and a jonesing for blow. After all, most people think whores couldn’t possibly be doing what they’re doing without drugs, homelessness, or a wailing baby to coerce them. Instead, she’s a regular co-ed who is frustrated that she can’t afford the Good Life like her rich friends, who took on sex work because “giving head is something I’m really good at.” She lists her reasons so breezily I can imagine her post as a brothel cover letter. Jeeze, it’s almost like sex work is… just like any other profession. There are pros, cons, and – guess what! – gals who ain’t from the wrong side of the tracks won’t go loco if they partake in it. What’s so scary about that? Everything, according to some.
I suppose I’m intrigued because of Audacia recounting her experiences at Columbia recently. Apparently, a prof shot down her thesis about sex workers in the middle class because she just couldn’t believe that some whores could possibly be educated, independent women who also happen to be prostitutes. And many of us believe this precisely because these sex workers are pressured to silence themselves, to keep their means of income a secret because of the incredible social stigma they will endure as a result! It’s fascinating, isn’t it? It’s yet another example of how we “cook the data”; tamper with evidence so that our prejudices are confirmed and reinforced. I’m glad that voices out there like College Call Girl can prove these memes wrong, even if we’ll never know the face attached to the lovely writing. Maybe we will, someday.
morning after malarky
A confession: I’ve never watched a full episode of Veronica Mars.
I know, I know. It’s the show all the cool kids are watching these days. Kristen Bell, whom I admire from Reefer Madness, is supposed to be this super-cute amalgamation of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Nancy Drew, and OMG-why-isn’t-it-Emmy-nominated-? and yada yada yada. My only contact with this product of the tween zeitgeist? The “sex” Google Alert I have set up on my GMail. (Hint: college students and amateur sex editors don’t have as much TV watching time as you’d think.)
However, I’m gonna comment on Veronica Mars because from what I understand, the writers, producers, and anyone who allowed the show to air as is last Tuesday is a dolt of the highest order. Their uninformed mistake may not have been malicious, but it is still hurtful to the young audience of the show nonetheless.
You see, according to the good folks over at Think Progress and Voices of American Sexuality (and the trusty powers of the “Print Screen” command on my keyboard) the ep featured a gal pal of Veronica’s, Bonnie, having an accidental miscarriage after being slipped “the morning after pill”. While Veronica did her mystery solvin’, crime fightin’ thing, powerful debates about abortion, choice, and sexuality for today’s youth took place on the show. I’m all for those debates. Too many snake-oil salesmen and self-righteous demagogues make out these ethical issues to be far less complex than they are, and anything that can get the Kids of Today™ thinking about and negotiating their sexual mores is seriously awesome.
I’m not, however, all for the minor yet seriously harmful factual error that Mars is promoting. The morning after pill, also known as Plan B, does not “cause a miscarriage”—rather, it prevents the ovary from releasing an egg, just like normal contraception. RU-486, on the other hand, does cause a medical abortion—but it’s not the emergency contraception that you would take 72 hours after unprotected sex.
To the show’s credit, this week’s episode featured a correction, and it was revealed that Bonnie did, in fact, take RU-486. Yet last week’s episode called the drug “the morning after pill”, as did the websites’ episode synopsis (see above). I’m glad that the Mars team took action to correct their mistake.
Yet think of all of the casual viewers of the show—many of them young girls on the cusp of puberty, and new to all of the exciting and sometimes scary aspects of sexuality—being given the message that emergency contraception is a capital-a Abortion. Think I underestimate today’s bobby-soxers? Check out this BBC poll that just revealed that some UK adults thought exercise or urinating after intercourse prevented pregnancy. Even though no scientific evidence has proven abstinence education to be effective, Uncle Sam has poured over 1 billion into scare-tactic sex-ed. What’s a guy or gal to do if even a popular show on national television written by presumably intelligent, educated adults can’t get their facts straight?
I don’t claim to have the answers, but I am glad that Internet communities like the ones on Think Progress can fact-check the media on this level, and stop plain out wrong cultural memes before they get accepted as truth. That way, we can cut out the BS and get back to the real debates about sexuality, unclogged by the haze of ignorance and hearsay that so often clouds any attempts at a frank, honest dialogue.
sanctify me baby
For those of you who miss the transgressive sexual art of Robert Mapplethorpe and the like, Japanese artist Japi Honoo could be your (shit smeared on a crucifix) saviour – he’s the man behind Porn Saints, a project which features holy renditions of your favorite up-’n-cummers.
Says the Porn Saints homepage: ”[Porn Saints] is an artistic approach to porn, a pornographic approach to art and a pornographic & artistic approach to religion. Here’s a pic of sex blogger/editrix friend of mine, Audacia Ray, as Her Holiness:
Perfect for those of you out there who like your wank with a side of sacrilege—or at least, a visceral challenge to that pesky little madonna/whore complex, courtesy of Sunday School.
ETA: Audacia and PornSaints corrected me: PornSaints is a multi-artist project. Thanks for the feedback, guys!
yo, sex in the news: spermatazoa edition
Happy Accion de Gracias, everyone! May you have stuffed your maw with pavo and slept delightful, tryptophan-enhanced slumbers during the Cowboys game. I’m still getting back on my feet from a lovely va-cay in sunny Florida: expect longer posts this week as I get back into college/editor/blogger mode.
Two quick items:
- A male birth control device? It’s possible, say those inventive Brits. Can Kevin Federline be a test subject? Please?!?
- A good 20something friend of mine and Penn alum, flying under the radar as the notorious El Hideoso, has launched a nouveau sex blog, written from the “average chump’s” perspective. Take a gander at his posts about the ubiquitous Napoleon complex and how purdy is too purdy. Now you can get the straight dope, not those horrid Glamour “Jake” columns!
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yo, sex in the news: if the pulitzer had a raunch category
Sex in the news is particularly randy and random this week, so I decided to pass out awards to each of these “gems”:
- The Hello, Captain Obvious! award goes to the fine folks at The Calgary Sun for this headline: More men want sex on the first date. Christ, this astute publication probably considered Lance “Princess Frostylocks” Bass’s coming out “shocking news.”
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- In the Insert Bad British Joke Here Award category, Miss Great Britain wins the prize for getting dethroned after the judges discovered her girlie mag past. Guess she can’t use that prize money to pay for a dentist after all. Badum, hiss!
- In the medical arena, the “Better Than The Headache Excuse” award goes to The Register, for their report on cures for women who are allergic to sex. Shit, you can be allergic to sex? Maybe I’ll develop an allergy to “going to class.” Or perhaps an allergy to “my own bad puns.”
- And finally, the So How Is That War on Terror Going, Again? award goes to the fine Missouri legislature, which just just passed a law prohibiting minors from obtaining a bikini wax without parental consent. So I guess those Al Qaeda folks just hate it when we prevent 15 year olds from stripping hot wax off their pudenda. Seriously.
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