quickies: SAAB Day
Hope you’ve had a day filled with lots of juicy meat, and, uh… juicy meat!
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.
the internet is crazy, and some quickies
So, uh, it looks like my uber-professional “commentary” about naked parties at Penn isn’t dying anytime soon.
CBS picked up the story, and I’ve been deluged with hits from people discussing it on Fark.com and (not very flatteringly) on Crewcial. Hey, folks! I promise my life does not consist in chugging kegs and running around sans underclothes with frat boys. Really.
Someone at Fark uploaded this picture. The caption kills me:
Hey, anything for publicity, right?
In the meantime, check out these Valentine’s Day quickies:
- Zoos all over America are holding “Woo at the Zoo” tours for couples to watch some hot animal fucking. Quick, somebody alert Daniel Radcliffe!
- Having trouble deciding between a Hitachi and a Rabbit Pearl this V-Day? Fleshbot has you covered with their Valentine’s Day sex toy gift guide.
- Modern Love, the splendid New York Times sex column, has a special V-Day list of romantic bon mots this week.
- My super friend and coworker Maria Tessa Sciarrino is doing a “Lovers Rock” show tomorrow, 4-6 PM Eastern time, on the famazing University of Pennsylvania independent station WQHS.org. Listen to it!
- And for you Valentine’s Day haters out there, NPR put together a “Songs for the Dumped” playlist.
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Coming soon I’ll have a post up about this new blog I’ve been checking out, Confessions of a College Call Girl, and Sexerati’s latest series about the marginalization of sex workers, “The Pink Ghetto”. Oh, and SexandtheIvy, aka Lena Chen, is living it up in Manhattan with me this summer. Cue requisite Carrie Bradshaw theme music, except unlike Ms. B, hopefully we won’t suck.
Happy V-Day, folks! On this amorous holiday, please love (and fuck) responsibly.
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.
At Yale, Getting Clean Was Never This Dirty
When it comes to hanky panky in the Ivy League, Yale’s got the rest of the Ancient Eight beat. Look at the evidence: compared to the rest of us with our pithy little erotica mags, they’ve got Chloe does Yale, nude calendars, Porn ‘n Chicken, Sex Week, pasty-studded screenings of mainstream porno Pirates. Their housing of Adonis-in-his-own-mind Aleksey Vayner certainly ruins their cred, but I’ve always thought of Yale as a “New Haven” for sex. (I hereby apologize for any more bad puns in this article.)
Which is why I’m more than a little surprised to read about Yale College Master Jon Holloway penning a rather prude-y missive, alerting Calhoun College dorm residents about a 90 minute sex sesh that took place in the community showers the morning before. Calhoun warns the students thusly:
“Several times since the start of the spring term some Hounies have come across a couple having the time of their lives in a shower stall. Last night the shower flooded and the bathroom could not be used for over 90 minutes. To the as yet unidentified couple, this may be pleasureable and exciting for you but it is a violation of community standards.”
I’ve gotta say, I can’t completely disagree with Calhoun here. As much as the idea of the old in-and-out in the school showers sounds hot, flooding the bathroom for your fellow students sounds about as sexy as a pap smear at Student Health. (Which is to say, not.) Fucking in plain sight of other students—also not cool. As the BDSM community is wont to say, exposing other unwilling individuals to your kink is the manners equivalent of punching Emily Post. Bottom line—in this situation, the kids screwed up their screwing.
My question, though, is this—if the Calhoun couple kept it in their stall and didn’t necessitate a plumber to clean up after them, would they still have been wrist-slapped? Do dorm officials get to go all en loco parentis on these frolicking fornicators? Yale’s a private school and can do whatever they want, but why not focus on, uh, research, instead of policing what goes on in your undergrads’ pants?
I’m sure the blogosphere will weigh in over the next few days, but I’m curious—in college and out, where and when is sex OK outside the bedroom?
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!WTF?
OK, so I already wrote about this over at Viv’s , but I had to just express some quick WTF-ery about this recent attempt by a Canadian strip joint to get dames to compete for tuition dollars . The premise is, the well-endowed yet cash-strapped ladies of University of Guelph shake their endowments at a weekly wet t-shirt contest, in anticipation for a $5000 cash prize to go towards tuition expenses.
Now, as a college chica entirely dependent on financial aid (thank you Uncle Sam!) I can totally understand why you’d need to pay for your education via the stripper pole. Most of us aren’t lucky enough to have parents ready and willing to put us through uni, and sometimes a girl’s gotta do what she’s gotta do to get that nice piece of paper for her career. Some ladies even (gasp!) enjoy their tenure at the titty bar. Who knew?
Yet I can’t help but get all Catherine Mackinnon (and Lord, I hate to invoke this brand of feminism) at the fact that this is basically yet another way in which women are pressured to get objectified in exchange for something which, IMHO, should be basic and accessible (tuition money). In the interest of egalitarianism (and my own libido), why isn’t there an opportunity for guys to show us the Full Monty in exchange for greenbacks?
Have we reached such a low that it’s considered OK for stripping to be an accepted form of pandering for tuition money?
I don’t know. Maybe I’m being a prude about this—but hey, I guess there’s a first time for everything.
What do we think, readers? Objectifying and oppressive, or just some good ol’ educational fun?
