Sarah Jaffe, of Season of the Bitch but currently guest-posting at Feministe talks about life on the receiving end of what I call the dominant male “no-sex” class paradigm and the way it pressures women not just to feel guilty not just about having desire but for even wanting to desire in the first place.
I want no guilt in desire. Sometimes the things we want, for various reasons, are not things we should actually have/do (see above promises and commitments, etc), but there’s nothing wrong in the wanting.
The last time I took on this subject at my blog, I wrote:
Sexual desire isn’t the only thing that women have been limited on. We’re expected to be restrained about food, about power, about love, about friendships, about everything. Even I worry constantly that I’ve crossed a line, that I’m bothering someone if I call too much or email too much, and I think that stems from the same place: feeling that I’ve made the fact that I want something too clear, too obvious.
One of the things that bothers me especially is the “He’s just not that into you” framing for women, particularly heterosexual women: we are supposed to worry about whether we are desirable, not what we want. The “No means no” model works the same way: we are consenting to something, not desiring it. The “she wanted it” rape excuse: our wants are not our own to define.
As it happens, 100 years ago most western, “civilized” men would have still felt the same guilt and anxiety about desiring sex since it was supposed back then that ejaculation (even “as many as 10 a year!”) destroyed men’s health and shortened their lives. Even more weirdly by today’s standards there was actually a little more tolerance for women’s desire… as long as that desire was couched in the acceptable framing of desiring children.
But even in those ostensibly halcyon days the paradigm’s bogus Rules of Desire #1 made it inconceivable and intolerable for a woman to express sexual desire. And even today it’s astonishingly difficult to discuss women’s sexuality without overtones (at least) or overt expressions of anxiety, guilt, and shame.
And as Jaffe points out earlier in her post the paradigm’s grip persists even in feminist debates about oral sex or fetishes or other sexual activities which, regardless of how individual women might feel about them, shouldn’t be enjoyed, let alone desired, but should instead be abstained from for everyone else’s benefit. The presumptions there being first that women have discretion over the behaviors they enjoy and that, furthermore, they can be obliged to alienate themselves from their enjoyment in service of someone else’s wishes. Problem being that those are effectively identical to the sacrifices demanded by anti-feminist institutions from the church to Cosmopolitan. (The irony is probably not lost on ultra-separatist blogger Jill, a.k.a. Twisty Faster, who argues passionately that the dominant paradigm is inescapable even as she insists all women should participate in a sex strike until her demands are met.)
My point here isn’t how women “really” experience their sexuality (which I couldn’t speak to authoritatively anyway.) Instead it’s how society — men in it and sometimes women — have constructed things such that we may easily converse only about a portion of that experience. The bad half.




I think one symptom of this
Submitted by Mary Kaye (not verified) on Tue, 2010-06-22 12:15.I think one symptom of this is that when I reach for words to describe why I like wearing certain clothes, the cultural word-supply gives me “sexy” and “attractive” and “arousing” which are all about someone else’s reaction. But I like to wear this stuff around the house when it’s just me. I like the sense of myself as a sexual being, and I like the physical feedback of the way the fabric slides or drapes. It is really hard to say that clearly!
So much appreciation of female physicality seems to be centered outside of us: as if we have to look in a mirror to understand that our bodies are … what word should I use? Beautiful, desirable? There’s that outside view again. Maybe “sensual” is a little closer. Or “erotic,” though it’s still ambiguous between the inside and outside view. “Passionate,” perhaps.
I wear this stuff because I enjoy the sense of myself as an erotic being, independent of any question about whether the (non-existent) observer finds it sexy. Why is that so hard to say?
[Hey, Mary Kaye, who said you could define your sexuality in your own terms instead of by its hypothetical effect on some guy? If you’d just settle for the no-sex class view of the world you’d never need a different vocabulary for enjoying yourself, your clothes, your house, or your life. :-) But seriously that’s a perfect example of the kind of curtailed discourse I Sarah Jaffe was talking about. Because off the top of my head there really isn’t a way to talk about someone feeling the way you described in terms other than sexy/attractive/arousing/random-effect-on-someone-else. Or at least no clear and easy way. So thanks for the insight. —fl]
“The irony is probably not
Submitted by Emily H. (not verified) on Wed, 2010-06-23 09:14.“The irony is probably not lost on ultra-separatist blogger Jill, a.k.a. Twisty Faster [....]” Actually it just might be. A gather you think she’s smart & has a valuable alternative position to share, but I disagree on at least one of those points. & I think a writer with an attitude as dismissive & entitled as hers about other women’s sexuality is likely to miss a lot of pungent ironies. (Julia Serrano in “Whipping Girl” defines “gender entitlement” as the belief that you know more about someone’s gender and sexuality than they do themselves.) I don’t go around claiming that lesbians are kidding themselves and suffering from a delusion that needs to be cured. Why? Because it’s idiotic, & lesbians got sick of that decades ago. As a straight woman, I don’t need * anyone * telling me that aspects of my identity — liking to please men, act “feminine” or whatever — aren’t my real identity & spring from some sort of false consciousness.
Anyway, getting back to the main subject of the post, I think it’s quite possible that a lot of “feminist” commentators who reject certain sexual behaviors as gross & patriarchal are really just suffering from regular old American puritan disdain for sex. Changing the genre or intellectual register of your objections doesn’t automatically place them on some untouchable plane of timeless verity. If you grew up in a society that thinks BDSM is perverted and sinful, it’s not surprising that you’d reach adulthood thinking BDSM is sexist and degrading — with just a little of the ideological framework switched around.
[“a lot of ‘feminist’ commentators who reject certain sexual behaviors as gross & patriarchal are really just suffering from regular old American puritan disdain for sex.” Sure. And it goes way, way, way back to the dawn of feminism, at least in America, where blue-nosed Bostonian Puritan WASPs who were feminists were in conflict with immigrant/working-class, less-religious, more sexual and also more politically radical mid-coasters. (See the differences between, say, Susan B. Anthony and the later Emma Goldman.) Point being that it would be ridiculous to say either Anthony or Goldman was “right” about feminism and therefore one or the other was a “good” one and the other not. They were both right about different parts of it even though one clearly said she didn’t want a revolution if she couldn’t dance to it and the other almost certainly would have rolled her eyes at the very thought. Which, I might add, could bring up the possibility of someone who imagines feminism is a monolithic system imagining one day that “I’m not a feminist but I don’t like to dance” and the next saying “I’m not a feminist but I still don’t like dancing.” Thanks, Emily. —fl]