my partner also had penis-in-vagina sex with me. (I'm assuming the reporter means
"penis-in-vagina" sex when she talks about "getting screwed", but I could be wrong.)
Honestly, I'm not sure why I would want to combine vaginal sex with an experience like
that. Vaginal sex strikes me, personally, as kinda incidental to what I'd get out of it. But
maybe I'll try it sometime and it'll be the greatest thing in the world; we'll see, I guess.
Sometimes I find that I've still got a "BDSM versus sex" distinction to work out, although
I seem to have comfortably settled into the frameworks I've created. One of my very first
blog entries, back in 2008, was called "Casual Sex? Casual Kink?", and I spent the whole
thing musing about whether I was more or less okay with casual BDSM than I was with
casual sex.
These days, I find that I'm kinda okay with both casual sex and casual BDSM, but I much
prefer those experiences within intimate relationships. Make no mistake, my friends:
BDSM can include a great deal of love and connection... at least as much as sex.
To hammer the point home, let me tell you about what happened after I broke up with a
much-beloved ex-boyfriend: Mr. Inferno. It was back when I was very focused on being
monogamous with my partners. Mr. Inferno broke up with me, and a month or two later I
had the chance to have an overnight BDSM encounter with another man, so I took it.
There was no genital contact; the whole encounter was limited to this guy giving me
orders, and hurting me until I cried.
But I remember, even as I slipped into the familiar emotional cycle, that I couldn't let go:
I couldn't let go because I felt like I was betraying Mr. Inferno. He'd broken my heart, but
on some level I felt like I still belonged to him. It was wrong, wrong, wrong for me to cry
in someone else's arms. The wrongness rang through me like a bell. It was so impossible,
unbearable -- all I could think was how it should have been Mr. Inferno. I choked on the
tears. I couldn't lose myself in them.
Later, I mentioned to my partner that one of my ex-boyfriends (not Mr. Inferno) had
trouble dealing with my BDSM desires. "Ah," my partner said. "That explains why you
had trouble letting yourself cry." I decided to nod; to let him think he knew what was
blocking me off. It seemed simpler.
In the morning, I had breakfast with my partner. We hugged and split up, and I went for a
walk until I found a local creek. I sat next to the creek and I closed my eyes and I let the
helpless tears slip down my cheeks.
I'd felt (and I'd known others who felt) this way after the dissolution of a sexual
relationship. But I had never imagined that such a reaction of intense bodily loyalty could
apply to BDSM as well as sex. I hadn't anticipated that I'd feel such heartbreaking,
visceral loss just because I let another man hurt me.
So different, and yet so the same.
* * *
This can be found on the Internet in two parts:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2011/10/09/bdsm-versus-sex-part-1-political-concerns/
and
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2011/10/14/bdsm-versus-sex-part-2-how-does-it-feel/
* * *
* * *
* * *
S&M:
[theory] BDSM Roles, "Topping From The Bottom," and "Service
Top"
I wrote this post in 2011.
* * *
BDSM Roles, "Topping From The Bottom," and "Service Top"
I often say that all consensual sexuality is okay. Open relationships? S&M? Same-sex
partnerships? One-night stands? Porn? I could care less how people have sex, as long as
the people involved are consenting adults. This means that most of the interesting and
important questions are about consent: how do we make sure that we always have
consensual sex? How do we ensure that we're always respecting our own boundaries and
our partners' boundaries? How do we talk about our preferences and our consent? I write
a lot about sexual communication for this reason.
Every once in a while, though, there's something interesting to discuss besides consent.
(Totally weird, I know!) One of those interesting things is stereotypes. Also interesting:
bad dynamics in the BDSM community.
One example of a bad, weird dynamic is the "one true way" thing. Some people act like
there are "right" ways and "wrong" ways to do consensual BDSM -- as if some
consensual BDSM is more legit than other consensual BDSM. Often, people do this via
what we call "role policing": they make claims about "real submission" and "real
dominance." (Even worse, people will sometimes act like dominant people are socially
"better" or "more important" than submissive people. Or they'll act like men are
"inherently" dominant, or women are "inherently" submissive. It's a clusterfuck! Thomas
MacAulay Millar has a great essay about this called "Domism.")
Examples of role policing might include:
* "If you were really submissive, then you would be serving my dinner right now instead
of having me serve myself."
* "If you were really dominant, then you would pay for my drinks."
* "If you were really submissive, then you wouldn't be confident enough to write a blog
about your sex life." (Not that I'm biased or anything.)
Sometimes these are hilarious light-hearted jokes. But sometimes they're not. Sometimes
they're bullshit, and they make people feel as though they're "bad at submission" or "bad
at dominance." Also, it gets really silly when we start thinking about switches -- people
who can feel comfortable in the dominant role or the submissive role, such as myself.
One very common, relevant assumption is that dominant people always enjoy inflicting
pain: that sadists and dominants are always the same group. They're not! Sometimes
people are into sadism, or into dominance, or maybe they're into a lot of sadism but a
little dominance, or whatever. The same thing goes for submission: sometimes people are
submissive and like taking pain, but sometimes people are submissive without being
masochistic, or maybe they're into a little bit of submission and a lot of masochism, or
whatever.
Or maybe they're masochists who like ordering their partners to hurt them. I once threw a
memorable party at which my then-boyfriend, a mostly-submissive gentleman, arranged
for a bunch of our friends to grab me and hold me down while he ate cake off my body.
As he did this, I clearly recall shouting at him: "You better hurt me, or I'm going to
safeword on your ass." So he hurt me! It was great.
Because "submissive" and "masochist" aren't always the same thing -- and "dominant"
and "sadist" aren't always the same thing -- the BDSM community uses the terms
"bottom" and "top." A "bottom" is a blanket term for a submissive and/or a masochist --
the receiving partner. A "top" is a blanket term for a dominant and/or a sadist -- the
partner who is providing sensation. The point is to have words that indicate who is giving
and who is receiving, without making claims about each partner's preferences. (These
words can also be used as verbs. For example, if I am "topping," then I am in the
dominant and/or sadistic position.)
And yet! Even though we have these handy terms "top" and "bottom," which are
specifically designed to help us avoid making assumptions, people end up making
assumptions. There are two common BDSM community phrases that are often deployed
in tones of disgust and irritation. One of those phrases is "topping from the bottom." The
other phrase is "service top."
"Topping from the bottom" indicates a person who exercises power in the relationship,
despite being in the "bottom" position. There's nothing wrong with doing that, as long as
both partners consent. But some people talk about "topping from the bottom" like it's bad
-- as if power ought to belong to one side or the other; as if the bottom should never
express preferences or make decisions about what's going on. Which is ridiculous.
I'll grant that it can be annoying if I'm trying to be a top, and my partner isn't listening or
isn't doing what I want. But in those cases, it's important to pay attention to what is
actually going on. Is my partner resisting because he actually doesn't want to do what
we're doing? In that case, I should respect his preferences. Or maybe my partner is
resisting because he wants me to punish him. Or maybe we just have bad chemistry!
Whatever. The point is, "topping from the bottom" isn't inherently a bad thing. "Topping
from the bottom" doesn't make the bottom into a "bad submissive" or whatever. It just
means that either the person is trying to communicate, or the person is looking for a
certain kind of push-pull dynamic.
Simultaneously, there's the phrase "service top." It's basically the same thing in reverse. A
"service top" is a top who enjoys topping in line with his partner's desires. And once
again, some people act like this is a bad thing -- as if service tops "aren't dominant
enough." But it's not inherently a bad thing! If a service top is doing things just because
her partner likes them... then good for her!
I sometimes use phrases like "topping from the bottom" and "service top" to describe
dynamics of a relationship: to talk about what is actually going on. But that's because I
don't think there's anything wrong with topping from the bottom or being a service top. I
try to avoid joking around about it unless I know that the person I'm talking to is not
sensitive about the topic. And I really don't like it when people use those phrases while
role policing.
BDSM can carry an incredible emotional charge, and a lot of the time, people will want
comfort and snuggles after doing BDSM together. Sometimes, part of that comfort and
snuggles includes reassuring the partner: "I know you just beat the shit out of me until I
cried; I enjoyed it -- I still like you and think you're a good person." Or, "I know you
called your safeword while I was hurting you; I still think you're a beautiful submissive
and you did a great job -- in fact I love it when you call your safeword because it helps
me understand you better." I think that in these cases it's totally okay to say something
like, "You're such a good submissive." But it's so important to keep in mind that there
isn't some kind of submission that's inherently "better" than any other kind -- or
dominance that's "better" -- or sadism, masochism, whatever.
And here is the part of the entry where I pull aside the mask and reveal that even though I
claimed I wouldn't talk about consent... I was secretly talking about consent all along!
The consent problem here is that role policing can be used to mess with people's
consent, because role policing can be used to pressure people. If a person wants to feel
like a "real submissive," and you tell them that "real submissives" always receive anal
sex... then the person might accept anal sex even if he doesn't really want to... because he
wants to be a "real submissive."
I have personally witnessed accusations of "topping from the bottom" or "service top"
being used to hurt people who were just trying to communicate, or arrange a relationship
that they liked. For example: "I thought you were a submissive. Why are you asking me
to tie you up? Stop topping from the bottom! I'm the dominant partner, I make the
decisions!"
An important facet of consent is trying to create a pressure-free environment, so that all
partners feel comfortable talking about what they want. Sometimes, it can be very hard to
create that environment, because pressure isn't always easy to see or understand -- but if
we want maximum consent power, then we have to do our best. One way to create a
pressure-free environment is to be careful about phrases like "topping from the bottom"
and "service top" and the role policing that can go along with those phrases.
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2011/11/12/bdsm-roles-topping-from-the-bottom-andservice-top/
* * *
* * *
* * *
FEMINISM:
[theory] "Inherent Female Submission": The Wrong Question
I wrote this post in mid-2011. Perhaps you can tell that I was in the depths of my
obsession with pickup artists at the time... those guys talk about "inherent female
submission" ad nauseam. Not all pickup artists are evil and misogynist, but the ones who
are love to beat this horse.
* * *
"Inherent Female Submission": The Wrong Question
I get a certain question occasionally, from straight dudes who've had a number of sexual
partners. It goes something like this:
All the women I've slept with liked pain. They asked me to hurt them or to dominate them
in bed. I did it, and enjoyed it; I loved how much it turned them on... it turned them on a
lot. But I keep thinking about it now. Why are all women into being submissive and/or
masochistic in bed? What does that mean?
They ask me this question in vaguely worried tones. Sometimes they say things like, "It's
really creepy." It is obvious that these dudes are rather concerned about this Terrible
Truth.
Here's my short answer for those guys: If you know women who are submissive and/or
masochistic in bed, that means those particular women like being submissive and/or
masochistic in bed. It doesn't mean anything else.
You're still here? Ah, well. I figured that wouldn't satisfy. So here's a longer answer:
Firstly, if you're a straight dude, and you're drawing conclusions about "all women" based
on the women you get involved with, then stop. Just stop. Even if you have slept with
zillions of women, you don't actually know what all women want, because:
A) Your experience of women is limited to women who got involved with you. You
are screening for certain qualities, sometimes consciously, and sometimes unconsciously
or by accident. If you tend to enjoy the dominant role, for example, or if you use a
dominant style of flirtation, then you could be screening for submissive female partners,
whether you intend to or not.
B) Everyone has biases, including you. I love the old saying: "When all you have is a
hammer, everything looks like a nail." If you have a bias towards seeing women as
sexually submissive (and you almost certainly do, because female sexual submission is a
hugely prevalent cultural trope), then you're more likely to see female submission in
places where it does not exist.
C) Women, like people of all genders, are demonstrably varied. You really don't think
non-submissive straight women exist? Why then, it must be so inconvenient when I point
you to the work of blatantly dominant women, huh? It's shocking, I know... next I'll be
telling you that queer and asexual women exist! (Not to mention women who switch
among roles -- from submissive to dominant, from sadistic to masochistic. I primarily go
for submissive masochism, but still, I myself play for both teams.)
The thing is, though... no matter how many holes I can poke in these dudes' anecdotal
"data," I can't bring myself to worry like they do. Even if a brilliant, well-reviewed study
came out tomorrow and proved beyond a shadow of a doubt that 100% of women are
submissive masochists in bed, I wouldn't care. (I bet you my left ear this study will never
happen, but I'm just saying, even if it did, I wouldn't care.)
Let me say it really clearly: Even if most women are submissive masochists in bed
(and I'm not convinced most women are), there's nothing wrong with that. I don't
care.
Why don't I care? Because all this anxiety and argument about submission -- and in
particular, what it means for women to be submissive; whether all women are
submissive; whether women are "inherently" or "biologically" submissive; whether
BDSM is an orientation or not... this is all the wrong question.
I'll note that the research seems to indicate that more kinky women are submissive than
dominant. Of course, this doesn't necessarily indicate anything about the tastes of women
who don't identify as kinky. And it's probably biased by culture, in that everything from
fashion photos to romance novels emphasizes female submission and male dominance.
Within BDSM culture, female dominance and male submission are often disappeared,
much to the justified frustration of actual female dominants and male submissives. When
all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail -- sometimes including our own
psyches and sexualities.
Plus, if the only available patterns for kink emphasize something a person doesn't like,
then that person will probably avoid kink. Note that in the research I linked to, for
example, the percentage of submissive women was higher in samples from within the
BDSM subculture than in samples from outside the BDSM subculture... perhaps because
many BDSM subcultural gatherings emphasize female submission and thereby alienate
women who are primarily dominant. Anyway, regardless... this is still the wrong
question.
In short, "inherent female submission" is the wrong question.
Certainly, I've fought through a lot of personal fears about what my interest in BDSM
meant for me as a feminist... but these days I have trouble understanding what, exactly,
got me so upset. I can't believe how long it took me to outthink those fears. Now, it just
seems instinctively obvious to me that:
1) The only reason these conversations happen at all is that BDSM, and especially
submission, is seen as broken and problematic and screwed-up and a sign of
weakness. What if we viewed S&M proclivities as a superpower rather than a
perversion? What if submission and masochism, in particular, were viewed as signs of
strength and endurance and emotional complexity, rather than weakness?
2) Sexual kinks don't necessarily affect one's performance in non-sexual fields. A
sexually submissive woman won't make a bad CEO (at least, not because she's sexually
submissive). I mean, come on, it's not like there aren't sexually submissive men in
powerful corporate positions. When I was younger I remember being scared that, in some
bizarre way, I was betraying women's liberation by being sexually submissive; this seems
ridiculous to me now. That fear can only survive in a culture where people are looking
for excuses -- no matter how flimsy -- to control and disempower women. Because it
doesn't make any damn sense on its own.
3) Rape is still rape. Everyone still has a right to consent, including submissives. A
submissive partner (of any gender) must be able to withdraw consent, and a dominant
partner (of any gender) must make space for them to withdraw consent. It's always great
when both partners can have an honest conversation about desire, trying to avoid pressure
and unfair expectations (whether those expectations arise from sexist culture or from
whatever else). Safewords are one frequently-recommended communication tactic for
those who have rape fantasies, although they aren't the only tactic. What really burns me
about many discussions of "inherent female submission" is that they have horrible
overtones of blaming the victim and justifying rape... much like "she was wearing a short
skirt, so she was asking for it." In reality, "inherent female submission" says absolutely
nothing about women's right to choose our partners and protect our bodily integrity.
Female submissives have made it perfectly clear that we do, in fact, claim that right.
I think most of the dudes who ask this question come to me, a feminist, and they ask this
question in hushed and worried tones, because they are decent guys and they are
concerned about The Consequences Of This Terrible Truth. I'd venture a guess that
they've met other dudes who talk nonstop about how women are vain and stupid and
hysterical and, snicker snicker, why do we let those dumb bitches even vote and, oh by
the way, did you know that lots of girls like to be choked and isn't that sooo significant...?
And so these decent guys who are talking to me -- they have learned to associate
discussions of female sexual submission with anti-feminism, and with attempts to
disempower women in other spheres.
Being decent guys, this worries them, because they know that people of all genders
deserve equal opportunity. But it is all a red herring! It's a series of illusions thrown up by
BDSM stigma; by the idea that sexual kinks always mean something about the rest of a
person's life; by people who don't comprehend that everyone has the right to consent; and
by blatant, uncomplicated misogyny! Female sexual submission isn't even close to a
threat to women's liberation, unless we allow it to be. If we weren't constantly forced to
deal with the broken assumptions of a broken misogynist culture, this question would
never occur to anyone!
It doesn't matter nearly as much what the cultural patterns are around sexual submission,
as it does how we deal with sexual submission. If your partner is submissive, you can
respect their desires and also respect them as a person. As I already noted, in BDSM this
means communicating carefully, like with safewords and/or other tactics. Some people
can have great sexual communication that's totally non-verbal -- but I always encourage
explicit verbal communication because for many people, it's easier to make intentions and
desires clear that way, and tactics like safewords provide a fallback in case there's a
mistake.
So: what does "inherent female submission" mean for women, for feminism, for equal
rights, for women who work, for powerful women? For housewives? For disabled
women? For female rape survivors? For rape survivors of other genders?
Say it with me now: It's the wrong question. The mere act of asking this question implies
a cultural context that is seeking excuses to disempower women. Female sexual
submission means nothing...
... except what every woman wants it to mean, for herself.
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2011/07/01/inherent-female-submission-the-wrongquestion/
* * *
* * *
* * *
MANLINESS:
[theory] Fifty Shades of Grey, Fight Club, and the Complications of
Male Dominance
I wrote this in early 2012, when everyone and their brother was talking about the
amazingly successful fanfiction-turned-BDSM-smut Fifty Shades of Grey trilogy, by E.L.
James. (The online version of this post contains a bunch of relevant current links at the
end.) It's one of my rare attempts at pegging an article to a recent news item; I had been
planning to write this article for months, but Fifty Shades gave me an opportunity to
actually do it. My main goal as a sex writer has always been to put forth analysis that's
responsive to the conversations I hear a lot, yet independent of the latest craze. For one
thing, I almost never care to track what Everyone Is Talking About Right This Minute!!,
and I'm irritated to think that I ought to do so. But I've come to reluctantly understand
that responding to current news is one of the best ways to get more eyeballs on my work,
so I'm trying to do more of that. I've also been encouraged in that direction by employers
-- most notably the gender-lens website RoleReboot.org, where I took on the role of Sex
+ Relationships Section Editor in late 2011. A slightly shorter version of this article was
originally published there.
* * *
Fifty Shades of Grey, Fight Club, and the Complications of Male Dominance
Much is being made of the highly successful S&M erotica novel Fifty Shades of Grey.
People are blaming feminism for making women into submissives, blaming feminism for
preventing women from being submissives, blaming women for having sexual desires at
all, and a whole lot of other boring and typical stuff that comes up in any conversation
about women and S&M. News flash: it's not the feminist revolution that is "causing"
women to have fantasies of submission. S&M fantasies have been around since the
beginning of time. (And the 1950s S&M-sensation book, The Story of O, was much better
written than Fifty Shades of Grey.)
As an S&M writer, I hear a lot of allegations about how "all" (or "almost all") women are
sexually submissive and how this must Mean Something. This is echoed in the coverage
of Fifty Shades of Grey, in which everyone is demanding to know What It All Means
About Women. I've already taken on these questions as they apply to women. But there's
another submerged question here -- about men. There's plenty of talk and stereotypes
about how men are inherently violent, or more aggressive than women, or "the dominant
sex."
As I said in my previous article: I think it's quite questionable whether women are
"inherently submissive," but my conclusion is that I don't care. It doesn't actually matter
to me whether women in general are "inherently submissive" (though I really don't think
women are), or whether submissive women's preferences are philosophically Deep And
Meaningful (though I'm not convinced they are). What matters is:
1. How women (or any other people) can explore sexually submissive preferences
consensually,
2. How women (or any other people) can compartmentalize submissive preferences so
that their whole lives are safe and fulfilling and happy, and
3. How women (or any other people) can be treated well in arenas that aren't even
relevant to their sexuality -- like the workplace.
This is also how I feel about these ideas of "inherent male violence." I don't buy that men
are "the dominant sex" or that men are "inherently violent." Based on what I've read, it
seems quite clear that individuals with higher testosterone levels -- who are, incidentally,
not always men -- often experience more aggressive feelings. Yet that's a far cry from
large-scale generalizations, and it's also frequently irrelevant to questions about how
people can best deal with those aggressive feelings. Plus, psychological submission can
be a very separate thing from physical aggression levels.
Much of the time, when it comes to aggression, anger management is the answer, the
same way a naturally shy or submissive person needs to learn to set boundaries. But there
are circumstances where catharsis is completely acceptable. Lots of perfectly decent men
have urges towards violent dominance; what do they do about it? How much do they
agonize, like Christian Grey in Fifty Shades of Grey, and how much do they explore their
desires in a consensual and reasonable way?
I always thought that the late-90s movie Fight Club was fascinating primarily because of
its lens on masculinity and violence. It's not just about the violence men to do each other,
but to themselves. Quotes include "You have to give up; you have to know that someday
you're gonna die," and "The first rule of Fight Club is: you do not talk about Fight Club."
I first watched it before I knew much about S&M, but now whenever I think about it, I
think about how the idea of a fight club -- where people would get together and fight, for
catharsis and community -- is so very reminiscent of how a lot of people experience
S&M. Fight Club even has safewords. Someone says stop, you stop. I obviously don't
support the endpoint of the Fight Club story (i.e., blowing up buildings), but the idea of
establishing a men's community via a fight club seems reasonable to me.
So, what are the practicalities of dealing with aggressive or dominant tendencies in the
sexual arena? As an S&M person, I've experimented with dominance as well as
submission, but because violence is so associated with masculinity, I turned to some
egalitarian male S&Mers for advice. I believe that even for non-S&M people, their
perspectives make a really good lens for ideas of gender and violence and power. Of
course, the first thing one of my friends told me was: "I'm not sure I really see dominance
in general as being particularly masculine. I don't really think it's a gender associated
thing."
That gentleman, who comments around the Internet under the name Scootah, went on to
add: "I've certainly worried about my kinks in the past. I mean fundamentally, I get
really, really turned on by grabbing someone by the hair, throwing them into the wall,
backhanding them, etc. That's a pretty disturbing thought for an egalitarian who's worked
with abuse victims. I spend a lot of time considering the ethics of my kinks; my partners'
enthusiastic consent is a major priority."
Jay Wiseman, author of the famous S&M primer SM101, talks about his own early fears
towards the beginning of that book. He writes about how he began having sadistic
fantasies, and went to the public library to research them. All he could find was portraits
of serial killers, which scared the hell out of him. He writes:
I decided to keep myself under surveillance. I made up my mind that I was not going to
hurt anybody. If I thought I was turning into someone that would harm somebody else,
then I would either put myself in a mental institution or commit suicide. And thus I lived,
waiting and watching to see if I was turning into someone that I needed to shoot.
Fortunately, Wiseman found partners who were open to exploring S&M with him, and
went on to write extensively about safety and consent and communication within S&M.
Trying to communicate in an egalitarian way is arguably the most complicated part of
any S&M encounter; as Scootah told me, "There are certainly elements that could
potentially unbalance a relationship in my favor. I'm a big reasonably strong guy. I do
usually make more money than my partners. I also have this whole sense of position in
the local S&M community. I mostly just try to be aware of those things. I try to be very
careful about not taking advantage of that and negotiate clearly and not pressure people."
There are lots of ways to do clear negotiation, including asking open-ended questions
before any S&M actually happens: "What are you interested in? Could you go into that
more?" There's also a huge emphasis on talking through the S&M encounter afterwards,
as part of the post-S&M processing we call aftercare. As another gent who goes by Noir
said: "It really helped me to have a few great, feminist S&M partners. Having that echo
of 'it's OK, I want this,' as well as the honest feedback when I do wrong really helped
shape how I experience S&M, and with who. It's meant I learned how better to read and
grasp the people in my, er, grasp."
Noir also noted, "I strive to use dominance and submission as a tool for helping my
partners become stronger, in ways that also feed my S&M preferences. For example, I
tend to form long-term interests with women who want a 'safe space' to extend and
explore their ability to be sluts, with all that can imply. But in the process, we also
explore how becoming more confident in one's sexuality also can reflect into everyday
life. Also, just coming to spaces in the S&M community can be a goldmine of
information. All a dominant man has to do is read, listen, open up and understand. One
thing I learned was that my fears about reinforcing our messed-up society were shared by
women into kink... but also that my ways of approaching the topic, as 'oh, we're so
controlled by society!' were themselves pushing too much agency out of women's
choices. There's a balance there that we guys who identify as both feminist and kinky
have to respect, and that can come from listening to feminist women struggle with these
issues, themselves."
The alternative sexuality advocate Pepper Mint (who has his own blog) told me that in
terms of putting gender on his experiences, "I am a bit genderqueer, and I personally
experience dominance with either a feminine or masculine vibe from moment to moment.
Certain activities -- like punching -- feel masculine, while others -- like whipping --
feminine in the moment. Also, I switch, meaning that I don't always take the dominant
role. Strangely, my most clearly masculine S&M activity is masochism. I always feel
very manly while taking pain. I don't think I can clearly explain why these things have
attached to gender in my head, though presumably I'm being affected by cultural tropes to
some extent."
The consensus in general was that dominance, whether masculine or feminine, is
something that happens in an encounter... not outside it. As Pepper put it, "New guys
often want to play hard or do hardcore things, and will often boast and swagger. Kinky
women almost always recognize this as dangerous bullshit. Learn to chill out and not take
yourself too seriously, and learn to start with a light careful touch when playing with
someone new. Learn to ask for help and guidance, both from others in your S&M
community and from your partners."
Scootah agreed: "The first mistake I see newbie doms make is trying too hard to be some
kind of bad ass. Admit your inexperience. Be seen learning. Be modest and have a good
time. Learn to communicate well, and to really be friends with your prospective
partners."
For me, the bottom line of these conversations is that questioning gender roles, and
understanding gender complications, is an ongoing process. People have a lot of urges
and preferences that are politically inconvenient and which we will never fully
understand. Whether we're shaped by biology or culture, those feelings will still exist for
now, and we have to deal with them. There are ways to do almost anything such that
people respect each other, though -- whatever the implications for gender or power.
Violence is complicated ground, but it can be used in balanced and consensual ways that
end up bonding people together. Fifty Shades of Grey and Fight Club are both examples,
and I haven't even touched competitive sports!
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2012/04/20/50-shades-of-grey-fight-club-and-thecomplications-of-male-dominance/
* * *
* * *
* * *
ABUSE:
[theory] The Alt Sex Anti-Abuse Dream Team
I wrote this post in 2010 for the high-profile feminist blog Feministe. If I were to write it
today, then I would write it differently. In particular, if I were writing it today, then I
would emphasize that there are actually two primary patterns for abusive S&M
perpetrators. There are the ones I emphasized in this post, the ones who prey on
inexperienced people outside the community... but then there's another category:
perpetrators who achieve high status within the community and then use it to get away
with non-consensual things. Other BDSMers have been writing about this more and
more, and the discussion is really heating up right now, in 2012. My fellow feminist
BDSM writer Thomas MacAulay Millar has a particularly long, complex blog series
about patterns of abuse in the BDSM community that gives a lot of great reference links
to other articles on the same topic. I've mentioned Thomas before; I don't always agree
with him, but he's principled and passionate and smart. He blogs at the Yes Means Yes
blog, and the series is being published post-by-post even as I write this. The first post in
the series is available at this link:
http://yesmeansyesblog.wordpress.com/2012/03/23/theres-a-war-on-part-1-troubles-
been-brewing/
* * *
The Alt Sex Anti-Abuse Dream Team
BDSMers face a lot of stigma around our sexuality, and this can be a major problem
when BDSMers are trying to deal with abusive situations. I've written a lot about
generally negative conceptions of BDSM -- they can briefly be summarized as:
* S&M is wicked,
* abnormal,
* a sign of mental or emotional instability,
* inherently abusive,
* or even antifeminist.
Given this climate, it's not surprising that two things almost always happen when BDSM
and abuse come up:
1) People of all genders who are abused are often unwilling to report. People of all
genders who are abused within BDSM relationships tend to be particularly
unwilling to report. Victim-blaming is already rampant in mainstream society -- just
imagine what happens to, for example, a woman who has admitted that she enjoys being
consensually slapped across the face, if she attempts to report being raped. And that's
assuming the abuse survivor is willing to report in the first place; ze may prefer not to
negotiate the minefield of anti-SM stereotypes ze will be up against, ze may be afraid of
being outed, etc.
2) Members of the BDSM community sometimes push back against real or perceived
anti-SM stigma by talking about how abuse is rare within the BDSM community. A
BDSM blog post and comments over at the awesome blog SM-Feminist claim that not
only is abuse within the community rare, but abusive BDSM relationships seem
more likely to happen outside the community. In fact, if you look then you can find
posts from submissive women who found that getting into the BDSM community, being
exposed to its ideals and concepts, helped them escape or understand their past abusive
relationships.
I tend to think that #2 is a really good point -- particularly the bit about how abusive
BDSM relationships are more likely to happen outside the community, due in part to lack
of resources and support for survivors. For this reason, I tend to stress the role of the
community in positive BDSM experiences, and I encourage newcomers to seek out their
local community. But lots of people don't have access to a local community at all,
especially if they're not in a big city. Plus, lots of people have trouble enjoying their local
community for whatever reason, perhaps because they have nothing in common with
local S&Mers aside from sexuality, or because they don't have time to integrate into a
whole new subculture.
There's also the unfortunate fact that point #2 sometimes reacts with point #1 in a toxic
way -- that is, it can ironically be harder for abuse survivors to talk about abuse within the
BDSM community because the community is pushing back so hard against the stereotype
of abusive BDSM. I've spoken to BDSMers who feel that the S&M community
pushes back far too hard, and that survivors are being aggressively silenced simply
because the rest of us are so invested in fighting mainstream stereotypes. I have
never personally experienced this, but I would not be surprised if I did. And the fact is
that I'm sure there are toxic dynamics in some BDSM communities -- we aren't a
monolith, folks -- and that even in 100% awesome communities, I'm sure there are at
least a few abusive relationships. And even one abusive relationship in the community
is obviously too many.
As Thomas MacAulay Millar wrote when the most recent abusive BDSM case hit the
media, "Our declaration that the abusers are not us has to be substantive." This is
something we should be taking action on. But how?
* * *
Dynamics Within the Community
I have personally had excellent experiences within the S&M community. However, I am
also pretty thick-skinned (unfortunately, this is partly due to lots of time spent working in
a sexist industry); and I have a well-developed sense of my own boundaries. I am saying
this not to sound self-congratulatory but because I believe that, due to being thickskinned,
I may be less bothered by actual harassment and pressuring dynamics than
others are. Also, I am lucky enough that I've never experienced an assault. Therefore, it's
incumbent upon me to listen to how other S&Mers -- especially female or genderqueer
S&Mers -- feel about their experiences being pressured within the community.
There are issues that even I have noticed. For example, I think that there is a distasteful
tendency to talk about "real BDSM" or "serious BDSM," as if some S&M is more
legitimate than other S&M. That's wrong and dangerous because it can make some
people feel as though they have to push past their boundaries -- do things they aren't
comfortable with -- in order to be accepted, liked, or seen as "real." On the rare occasions
that I encounter this, I try to point out the problems right there and then. There is no such
thing as "more real" and "less real" S&M. The only truly important part about any
S&M activity is that it happen among enthusiastic, consenting adults.
Thomas once wrote to me by email that "I tend to think that the dynamics of abuse in the
community are a combination of the desire to avoid washing our laundry in public,
patriarchy colonizing our own, and the usual thing in small communities where people's
willingness to do the right thing in theory bumps up against their personal friends and
loyalties." I completely agree. I'd add that similar issues arise in almost all small
communities, and it's not fair to blame S&M in itself for these problems. At the same
time, though, it's incumbent upon all BDSMers to contribute to an environment
where people who don't want to participate can easily say "no", and can rely on
being supported by others when they do.
* * *
Existing Anti-Abuse Initiatives in the BDSM Community
Finding existing initiatives is a bit of a piecemeal project, but here's what I've run across.
* A variety of pamphlets and written statements. One example was released by The
Network/La Red, a rather unique anti-abuse organization for lesbians, bi women and
trans people. One panel of the pamphlet shows a picture of handcuffs, and the text says:
The most basic difference between S/M and abuse is Consent.
It is not consent if...
* You did not expressly give consent.
* You are afraid to say no.
* You say yes to avoid conflict.
* You say yes to avoid consequences (i.e. losing a job, losing your home, being outed).
S/M is...
* Always consensual.
* Done with respect for limits.
* Enjoyed by all partners.
* Fun, erotic, and loving.
* Done with an understanding of trust.
* Never done with the intent to harm or damage.
Just because you consent to play does not mean you consent to everything. You have the
right to set limits.
(You can look at images of the pamphlet on my Flickr account.)
Some SM organizations have also released statements on SM and abuse, such as the
national Leather Leadership Conference and New York's Lesbian Sex Mafia. Note that at
the bottom of the LSM page, they mention that they've sensitized a local abuse hotline; if
I ever get a grant or something to start a pro-sex anti-abuse center, I'll immediately grill
the LSM to see how they got in with that hotline and what they said.
* Kink Aware counselors. I talk about this all the time, but I think it bears repeating as
often as possible. The National Coalition for Sexual Freedom maintains an online list of
Kink Aware Professionals, which is a grassroots effort begun by writer/activist Race
Bannon and includes doctors, lawyers, and therapists. The list is pretty much open and
opt-in -- professionals go to the KAP site and offer to list themselves there -- and this is
one reason it's not a good idea to assume that any given professional will be a great fit for
you. Personally, when I was coming into my BDSM identity, I found a Kink Aware
therapist to be incredibly helpful -- but while I was finding him, I visited another therapist
who was not at all helpful.
When people ask me for kink-friendly survivors' resources, I always tell them to seek a
KAP therapist first.
* The annual Alternative Sexualities conference. This is a comparatively new effort
from the Community-Academic Consortium for Research on Alternative Sexualities.
They describe it as "a conference for clinicians and researchers, addressing issues around
BDSM/Kink sexualities and consensual non-monogamies." 2012 will mark the fifth
Conference on Alternative Sexualities. I was on a panel at the 2009 conference in
Chicago, and I thought it was pretty awesome, but I am obviously biased.
* Community workshops. Most BDSM communities in large cities have educational
workshops. These teach SM-related ideas or skills such as community etiquette, how to
use various types of equipment, etc. Every SM workshop I have ever attended has
emphasized careful negotiation and has, at the very least, mentioned safewords. One
workshop -- "The Emotional Aspects of BDSM Play," taught by San Francisco's
EduKink -- gave a detailed list of ideas for how to tell BDSM from abuse, which I wrote
down:
1) Consent. BDSM is consenting; abuse is not.
a) Assuming consent was given -- was it informed consent? Did everyone know what they
were consenting to?
b) Was consent coerced or seduced from the partner? Did everyone feel like they could
say no if they wanted? Was anyone worried about suffering negative consequences if they
said no?
2) Intent. A BDSM partner intends to have a mutually enjoyable encounter; an abusive
partner does not.
a) Did everyone leave the scene feeling somewhat satisfied?
3) Damage. A BDSM partner tries to minimize the actual damage inflicted by their
actions; an abusive partner does not.
a) Did the two partners learn what they were doing before they did it? Did they learn
how to perform their activities safely?
b) Were the partners aware of the potential risks of their activities?
4) Secrecy. Abuse often happens in secret. This is the hardest one on this checklist,
because -- due to the fact that BDSM is a very marginalized, misunderstood sexuality --
BDSM often happens in secret, too. But this is one of the benefits of having an entire
subculture that deals with BDSM: we try to look out for each other.
a) Were the two partners involved in the local BDSM scene? Did they get advice from
knowledgeable, understanding BDSM people during rough patches in their relationship?
I've heard of one or two workshops specifically focused on "BDSM for Survivors." I've
also heard of support groups for BDSM-identified survivors of abuse, but I've never run
across one in person. I've said this before, but I'll say it again: I believe that the safest
place to have a BDSM relationship is within the BDSM community.
* * *
My Fantasy Sex-Positive, Anti-Abuse Program
You can tell from the above list that relevant community efforts have focused on raising
internal awareness, consolidating useful information, and educating. If I were to get a
grant or something (ha!), I would certainly look for ways to use it on a dedicated pro-sex,
anti-abuse initiative, hopefully more expansive than a hotline, and considerably more
extensive than a pamphlet. I've never developed this thought too extensively -- I hate to
torture myself when I know there's no money for one of my ideas -- but I know I'd want
my Dream Anti-Abuse Team to have the following qualities:
* BDSM is obviously my main interest, because that's how I identify the core of my
sexuality. But I have a strong interest in destigmatizing all forms of sexual expression
practiced by consenting adults. Everyone involved in my initiative would emphasize that
people of all genders and sexualities could come for help -- whether straight, gay,
lesbian, bi, trans, asexual, BDSM, sex worker, polyamorous, swing, or whatever
amazing fetish could conceivably come up.
Ideally, I would personally try to shock the hell out of anyone before I agreed to work
with them... because anyone whose face twists up or who gasps at the idea of any kind of
consensual weird sex is a person who shouldn't be anywhere near altsexual abuse
survivors.
* I'd want destigmatizing alternative sexuality among the mainstream, especially
mainstream anti-abuse organizations, to be a major focus -- so that abuse survivors
could feel less anxious about being misunderstood while seeking help. So I'd need people
who were willing to go out and charismatically shock the abuse officers at police stations,
feminist organizations, college campuses, etc. I'd want us to be running everything from
anti-stigma poster campaigns to sex communication workshops.
* I'd want the program to be well-advertised to the general public, so that people who
aren't in the community -- yet who are practicing S&M or poly or whatever on their
own -- could still find us.
* Of course we'd also do the more traditional work of offering walk-in counseling to
abuse survivors, including help making a concrete plan, altsexual-friendly legal advice,
and so on.
So.
Anyone willing to fund my Dream Team?
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2011/01/16/the-alt-sex-anti-abuse-dream-team/
* * *
* * *
* * *
Section 1 Study Guide
A regular reader who goes by SnowdropExplodes suggested that I add "study guides" to
the end of each section of this book in order to pull it together, and I thought it was a
good idea. (See why I love my readers?) I'm sure that others could find this insufferably
patronizing, however; if you're one of them, feel free not to read the guides! I'm just
trying to offer questions for further thought, and give some insight on why I organized
this book the way I did. This section was intended to pull together the ideas I see as
"basic" or "building blocks" for feminist sex, both in theory and in practice.
* * *
1. Have any of these pieces felt relevant to how you communicate with your partners?
Have any pieces felt irrelevant or incomprehensible? Can you see any overarching
themes that guide which ones felt relevant, and which ones felt incomprehensible?
1a. If you could give your partners one piece of advice about communicating with you,
what would it be?
1b. Are there areas of communication that you feel you need to work on? (For example,
Clarisse often thinks that she should work on her non-verbal communication, and has
occasionally had trouble being direct with her partners about what she wants.)
1c. What ideas about sex and communication do you think you've absorbed from friends,
parents, and your larger cultural environment?
* * *
2. What stereotypes do you see acting on your sexuality?
2a. Have you come up with any mental tactics for thinking around those stereotypes?
What are they? (For example, Clarisse sees the "S&M superpowers" concept as a positive
way of framing S&M, so it doesn't feel "broken" or "dark.")
* * *
3. Are there any areas of your sexuality where you feel trapped or stalled? Can you think
of ways that you want to move forward on those, or do you think it might be a good idea
to take some time off from those activities instead?
* * *
4. If you were feeling anxious about a relationship or uncertain about your boundaries,
who would you turn to in order to talk about that? Do you have friends (online or offline)
or other resources where you could find advice?
4a. Are there unique problems affecting abusive relationships within the communities
you frequent? How do sexual stereotypes affect how you and your friends perceive both
positive relationships and abusive relationships?
* * *
5. What are the overarching patterns that you see within the pieces in this section? How
are these disparate topics relevant to each other?
5a. Is consent complicated?
* * *
* * *
* * *
SECTION 2:
Activism and Allies
In which we explore activism and other topics tangentially related to S&M feminism --
from sex work, to polyamory and monogamy, to the nature of masculinity.
* * *
When I think of this section, I think of:
Abuse of power comes as no surprise.
~ Jenny Holzer
I think of Clarisse as the John Stuart Mills of sexuality.
~ one of my ex-boyfriends
* * *
* * *
* * *
ACTIVISM:
[theory] Grassroots Organizing For Feminism, S&M, HIV, and
Everything Else
I wrote this in March 2011 for Bitch Magazine's Feminist Coming-Out Day Blog
Carnival. The goal was to talk about feminist "click" moments, and my entry was
predictably wide-ranging and idiosyncratic.
* * *
Grassroots Organizing For Feminism, S&M, HIV, and Everything Else
Earlier this month, my sex-positive documentary film series screened Jane: An Abortion
Service. The film tells the extraordinary story of "Jane," an underground network of
women in Chicago who provided thousands of safe abortions in the years before abortion
was legal. It was totally inspiring.
Jane was started accidentally by a woman named Heather Booth. Booth was a student at
the University of Chicago in the late 1960s when another woman came and asked her --
secretly, of course -- whether she knew any abortion doctors. Heather Booth found one,
and she also found that other women started coming to her for references.
As one woman in the film put it, in those days, women who sought abortions were all
"hysterical and desperate and scared": if you needed an abortion, you knew you would
have to come up with some fabulous amount of money and take a life-threatening risk.
Some women committed suicide when they got pregnant instead. Information about
abortion was at a premium.
So Heather Booth began looking for abortion doctors, and better than that, she started
vetting them. After finding the doctors, she sought testimonials about those doctors.
Common problems with abortion doctors ranged from being rude to actually assaulting
their patients; some doctors, who already charged sky-high prices, would demand more
money at the last minute. Booth kept a list of abortion doctors who didn't do those things.
Pretty soon, there were other women who had her list too, and they were vetting doctors
and spreading the word as well. The group also provided counseling before and after the
procedure, letting the patients know what they could expect -- physically and
emotionally. They called themselves "Jane": a woman who called them and asked for
"Jane" was seeking an abortion.
After some time, the women of Jane figured out that abortion isn't a complex procedure,
and they convinced a doctor to teach them how to do it safely. And then they taught each
other. So then they didn't have to refer patients to doctors: they did all the abortions
themselves, and they did them for whatever the patient could spare rather than charging
prices that were out of reach for many women. Jane members continued to provide
emotional support, as well: in the documentary, one member reminisces about how she
would have patients over to dinner with her kids and talk to them for a while before
performing the procedure. It got to the point where doctors and medical students sent
women to Jane, rather than getting referrals from Jane.
That is positive activism. That is building the world we want to see.
When abortion was legalized in 1973, the group quietly disbanded. Some members of
Jane went on to be involved in other parts of the feminist movement or to found respected
women's health organizations.
It's not that Jane had no problems; the organization was not transparent, for example, and
it sounds like there was a fair amount of gossip and internal difficulties. These are typical
issues within small groups, and the stigma and anxiety of what they were doing can't
possibly have helped, but still, it's important to work against those problematic patterns
from the beginning. It's worth it, I think; I'm increasingly convinced that the most
positive direct change can be traced to small, grassroots, community groups. Which
means that making sure your small, grassroots community group is egalitarian but wellorganized
can have ripple effects all down the line.
Another example of such a group might be Chicago's Rape Victim Advocates. RVA was
established in 1974 by doctors and nurses who were appalled by how badly rape
survivors were treated in the emergency room. Back then, there was no public
understanding of how traumatic rape could be, and little understanding of survivors'
experience, even from police and doctors. (An older female friend of mine who was
raped in 1970 once told me that she tried to talk to a psychiatrist about what happened.
He sighed and said, "Really, do you think that's important?") Rape Victim Advocates has
always been a network of volunteers who are on-call to come and talk to rape survivors,
but since 1974, it has also developed from a fragile activist group into one with funding
and political presence.
And on a somewhat different note, S&M community organizing is really quite good. A
lot of people don't realize that most S&M community dungeons (unlike the professional
dungeons run by sex workers) are nonprofit organizations, kind of like community
centers. (No, seriously.) People don't just go to community dungeons to do S&M -- they
also go to community dungeons for discussion groups or educational workshops, to learn
how to perform certain activities safely.
Much like Jane, the S&M community has also created a network of necessary references:
the Kink Aware Professionals list. If you've read my work before, you've probably read
about this list, because it had a huge impact on my life and I like to spread the word.
S&M activists in San Francisco realized, years ago, that there was a need for lawyers and
doctors who understood their lives and wouldn't stigmatize their choices, so they wrote
three names on a piece of paper and passed it around. Now, the Kink Aware
Professionals list is an international online directory hosted by the nonprofit National
Coalition for Sexual Freedom.
Again, it's not like there are no problems in the S&M community; people gossip, people
backstab, people fuck up. There's little vetting process for educators or for people who
list themselves on Kink Aware Professionals, and a lot of people run kink classes at least
as much from a desire for status as from a desire to educate. But still, I think the S&M
community is engaging in positive activism... more than a lot of us even realize.
This was a lesson that really hit home for me when I spent a year in Africa working on
HIV mitigation. One of the reasons international aid is so complicated is that figuring out
how to help a community that's not yours is incredibly hard. A lot of well-meaning
Americans (including myself) go abroad with little understanding of how hard it is. The
reality is that assisting with, for example, public health in a foreign place entails learning
the social fabric of that country in a way that outsiders can only do with tons of sustained
effort... and we're still unlikely to be as good as someone who grew up there. One of the
reasons -- maybe the biggest reason -- I left was that it was so obvious to me that I was a
better activist in the USA... even when I wasn't trying to do activism. (When I was there,
I received one letter from an American girl asking for advice on how to do African
activism. My advice to her can be summarized as, "It's harder than you think, and you
might consider staying home where you're awesomer.")
When HIV began destroying the gay community, the most effective and important
measures to curb it came from people like Richard Berkowitz, the actual gay activist who
wrote a safer sex pamphlet on his home typewriter and then distributed it by hand. They
saw a need and they did something about it. Just like Jane. Just like S&M educators.
You are probably already part of more communities than you might realize. If you go to a
university, you're part of that community. Whether you live in a city neighborhood or a
small town, you're part of that community. If you go to particular clubs, you're in those
communities. There may be aspects of your identity that could align with a community as
well: for example, if you read science fiction there are conventions for that (although of
course, identity communities don't always work for everyone with that identity). These
are places where your knowledge already makes you powerful... so keep an eye out for
needs. (It's also worth considering getting involved in an intentional community. I'm kind
of psycho about housing co-ops, for example, because they are awesome. I personally am
a member of North American Students of Cooperation, but there are other groups, and
there are also independent co-ops that aren't part of larger networks.)
We live in an unstable and fast-paced age. I don't know how people in most other
countries feel, but I know that here in the USA, there is a quite pervasive and quite
justified anxiety among everyone I know in the middle class. Many of our safety nets are
evaporating, and it's not at all clear that they will be replaced. But no matter how much
the people in power fuck us over, we'll never be totally screwed as long as we're not
isolated and we talk to each other.
One of the former members of Jane, a white-haired feminist with such powerful energy
that she practically glows through the screen, says in the documentary: "Don't stay with
people who tell you you're crazy and useless. Don't stay where you're weak." That's what
I call an activist click moment: find the other people like you, and organize with them.
That applies to feminism, it applies to sexuality, it applies to public health. Go where
you're strong and make your people stronger.
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2011/03/29/grassroots-organizing-for-feminism-sm-hivand-everything-else/
The film Jane: An Abortion Service is available from the distributor Women Make
Movies:
http://www.wmm.com/filmcatalog/pages/c410.shtml
* * *
* * *
* * *
ACTIVISM:
[storytime] Interview with Richard Berkowitz, Star of Sex Positive and
Icon of Safer Sex Activism
Richard Berkowitz is an interesting guy. He was active in the gay community in the
1970s and 80s as an S&M sex worker, so he's got plenty of experience with all kinds of
sexual history. Not only that, but he also wrote the very first safer sex pamphlet ever,
when HIV began storming through the gay community. The pamphlet was called "How to
Have Sex in an Epidemic"; Berkowitz literally wrote it at home on his typewriter and
then distributed copies by hand. Then he was slammed by his own community for doing
so... well, read on and learn more about what happened next.
I was honored to interview Berkowitz in early 2009. I really love it when I get the chance
to talk to boundary-breaking activists who were around before I was born, especially if
their domain is sexuality. I feel a combination of both exhilaration and despair during
these discussions -- exhilaration because I learn how far we've come, and despair
because I can see how we keep making the same mistakes again and again and again.
* * *
Interview with Richard Berkowitz, Star of Sex Positive and Icon of Safer Sex
Activism
Our second film at my awesome sex-positive film series was Sex Positive, a fascinating
documentary about the history of safer sex. I'll be honest: I was psyched about Sex
Positive from day one, long before I'd even seen it. It was the first film I chose for my
film list. In fact, the whole idea for the film series came out of a conversation I had with
Lisa (our lovely Hull-House Museum education coordinator) in which I said that I
wanted to see Sex Positive, and then added, "There are so many sexuality movies I want
to see. You and I should have a regular movie night!" She looked at me and said
thoughtfully, "You know, I bet people besides us would come to that...."
Sex Positive tells the story of Richard Berkowitz -- and how he was one of the first to
spread the word about safer sex in America. Berkowitz, a talented writer, started out as a
hot-blooded participant in the promiscuous gay bathhouse culture; later, he became an
S&M hustler (i.e., a sex worker). When AIDS started decimating the gay community,
Berkowitz was instrumental in teaching his community (and the world) about safer sex.
As it became clear to some medical professionals that sexual promiscuity spread AIDS,
Berkowitz tried to tell the world about their findings. But there was a huge backlash
against him -- because in those days, the promiscuous bathhouse culture was seen by
many gay men as a huge part of identifying as gay and sex-positive... and anyone who
argued against it, or tried to modify it, was therefore cast by many people as sex-negative.
After we screened Sex Positive, I reviewed it on my blog, and Richard Berkowitz himself
read the review! He left a comment offering feedback, and I was so thrilled and honored
to hear from him that I emailed him right away. We talked a little bit, and met in person
last time I was in New York City -- and I practically begged him to let me interview him
by email. Here's the results: a discussion of Richard's history with S&M; what he thinks
about advocacy; his feelings about the gay community and its history; and where he finds
himself in his life right now.
Clarisse Thorn: In Sex Positive, you mention that you didn't initially think of
yourself as a BDSM type, but that you had partners who convinced you to do it. Do
you think you would have gotten into BDSM if you hadn't had partners pressuring
you to do it? Do you think you would have gotten into it if you hadn't been able to
make money at it?
Richard Berkowitz: I was filmed talking in three- to four-hour sessions over the course of
a year about difficult, often painful, personal history. At times I felt uncomfortable, I
made mistakes, so there are moments in Sex Positive that I wish I could clarify -- but it's
not my film. That's why I'm thrilled that you're giving me the first opportunity to address
the moments that make me cringe when I see the movie -- and what amazed me is that
you nailed most of them.
Me -- pressured into S&M? Hell, no. I stumbled across BDSM porn in college, and was
both appalled and more turned on than I was to any other porn. I pursued a few
experiences as a novice when I was in college, and I was completely turned off to the
scene for years. The few Tops I met were clumsy, distracted by fetishes that bored me,
and I was convinced a bottom could easily get hurt -- so I walked away.
When I began hustling in NYC, I was an angry activist and it attracted S&M bottoms that
were happy to teach me what I could do with my anger that was erotic and consensual.
To that I added what I had learned that Tops did wrong -- and presto! I got really good at
it fast -- and I loved it. I was doing two or three scenes a day, but because I could often
steer a scene to what turned me on, it felt more like play than work.
If I hadn't had been trained as a Top by older, experienced bottoms who were hiring me, I
still would have had S&M experiences on my own. But I doubt that I would have gotten
as heavily into the scene if it wasn't for hustling. That's where I earned my S&M PhD.
In 1979, S&M was considered the fallback scene for aging hustlers -- it was what you
turned to when you were losing your youth. There was such a dearth of good Tops. But I
had the raw material to be a great Top at 23, and I built quite a reputation on word-ofmouth
referrals and repeats. Many of my clients became close friends.
CT: Where do you place BDSM in your sexual identity and self-conception? Do you
see it as deeply part of you, or something you chose? Do you think of your BDSM
urges as coming from a place as deep, as intrinsic, as your gay orientation?
RB: I think it's too late for me to answer that question. Turning my libido into an
occupation at 23 changed me in both good ways and bad. It would take a book to explain
-- so let me just say that as a product of gay male sex in the 70s, there was an element of
power intrinsic to the sexuality of the times. That shaped me. I don't see vanilla sex and
S&M sex as mutually exclusive because I believe in Tops and bottoms -- and that's the
basis of BDSM. "Tops and bottoms" are not exclusive to BDSM; the terms are widely
used for assigning roles of power in sex in general. Gore Vidal said, "There is no such
thing as gay and straight -- only top and bottom." I believe both are true.
But one shouldn't lose sight of the fact that a third of my living space for the past three
decades was a sound-proofed dungeon.
I think that a culture like ours that's based on competition, as opposed to cooperation, can
be extremely sadomasochistic. I think bad S&M can be found in many aspects of our
daily life, and good S&M is just eroticizing aspects of being human that can enhance sex
immensely for some.
CT: What kind of BDSM advocacy have you encountered? What kind of sex work
advocacy have you encountered? What did you think of what you saw? Do you have
any ideas about how to make those movements effective? Do you have any fears
about those movements? Would you consider being part of those movements?
RB: My only fear about those movements would be if they didn't exist! My neighbor
down the hall for the past 25 years built my dungeon and was a co-founder of Gay Male
SM Activists, but I always had too much hot sex going on at home to be interested in
meetings. Plus, I never stopped feeling like a pariah in the gay community because of the
attacks on me and my writing since AIDS began. You reach a point where you just
assume people hate you because it's easier than trying to figure out who doesn't.
I fiercely support BDSM advocacy, but mainly from a distance. There's a limited number
of body blows any activist can take before we just retreat. I had my fill -- but the response
to Sex Positive and the new Obama era is nudging me out of my shell. I had a breakup a
few years ago that devastated me, so I've been out of the scene for almost three years.
Now I'm trying to reinvent myself, find one person I can retreat from the world with. I've
never lied about S&M being an intrinsic part of my sexuality, and because of my early
bad experiences with BDSM, I'm thrilled and inspired by advocates for it. If there had
been BDSM advocacy when I came into BDSM, then I don't think I would have had the
bad experiences I mentioned earlier. As a BDSM sex worker, I met so many men who
had horrible tales of being hurt in scenes, and I did my best to be an antidote for that.
CT: On my blog, you commented that "Of course BDSM was a source of joy in my
life but I put it aside when it robs me from having a platform to champion safe sex
to the largest possible audience, which BDSM often has." Could you talk more
about that?
RB: Smear campaigns are hard to pin down, and there's no way to know how much of the
contempt against me or my writing was due to my BDSM, my sex work, my safe sex
evangelism or simply me. I'm just a dangling pinata for people who have issues with sex!
There are gay people of my generation who are as uninformed and rabidly anti-BDSM
sex as homophobes are about gay sex.
I can't think of anyone who has gone on film with such brutally honest testimony about
their radical sexual history as I did in Sex Positive. It felt like a huge risk and you can see
my anxiety in the film, but to me, this level of honesty is crucial to pro-sex activism.
People are so dishonest about sex; many would never talk publicly about their private
sexual behavior -- and they don't want others doing it either, so it's not easy.
There was a doctor I saw once when AIDS began who heard I was into S&M. As he went
to take blood from me, he stabbed the needle into my arm. I bolted out of the chair
screaming, and he said coyly, "Oh, sorry, I thought you liked pain." How can I not feel
reticent talking about BDSM considering so many people I've met like that? And then I
think, how can I not?
I've seen the most courageous pro-sex writers and activists attacked, pilloried and
silenced because of their honesty in writing about their kinky sexual histories. I shudder
when I recall the vicious smears against pro-sex feminists by anti-porn feminists back in
the early 80s. I don't want to invite that bile into my life, especially now, when my circle
of gay male friends are no longer alive and here to support me when I go out on a limb
with my personal radical sexual issues in public.
So why did I speak out? Why do I still speak out? Because I owed so much to the army of
men who loved and supported me over the years and no longer have a voice, and because
gay men were dying. It was no time to be squeamish about sex. It still isn't.
CT: Do you have any regrets? -- and, concurrently, what are you most proud of?
Did the making of the film Sex Positive bring any regret or pride to the surface for
you?
RB: I have a few regrets about Sex Positive, but they pale next to what I've gained. I've
been to more cities with this movie in one year than I've been to in my entire life. Young
people have been extraordinarily supportive and kind, and it helps me to let go of the
past. I've been stuck in the past for so long -- it's deadening, but I finally feel that this
movie is breaking me free, to finally let go and move on to write about other things. For
that, I'm forever indebted to Daryl Wein, the documentary's director.
What I'm most proud of is how much work I did on safe sex that no one even knows
about. I'm putting it all on the Internet as a free archive, as soon as I can find or pay
someone to help me with the technical stuff. I'm from the age of typewriters.
CT: Is there anything you'd like to add? Please feel free to also respond directly to
points I made when I talked about Sex Positive on my blog.
RB: I loved S&M hustling before AIDS so much -- sometimes, when I talk about it, I
become the part of me that tied people up and dominated them; it's like a mental erection.
I get lost in the reverie of being an erotic, arrogant Top. I begged director Daryl Wein to
delete me saying that clients would tell me that I could do whatever I wanted to them
except fuck them, and then I would proceed to do just that. I said that when I was lost in a
persona, and it makes me sound like a rapist!
The truth is, my most valued expertise as a hustler was teaching men who were afraid of
getting fucked how to relax, how to douche, how to open up, how to explore the intense
pleasures of receptive anal intercourse and anal orgasm without any pain. I would never
rape or violate anyone's consent -- and certainly not customers I wanted to come back! I
had tremendous empathy for how difficult it can be to learn how to get anally fucked
because I was never able -- or had the desire -- to do it without being high on drugs. (You
have to remember how pervasive recreational drug use was during the sexual revolution.
There were articles in the gay press saying how cocaine was good for you. We didn't
understand addiction then as we do now. And we paid a heavy price for that innocence
and ignorance.)
When I began hustling in NYC, the lesbian and gay liberation movement was ten years
old -- and about that mature. We grew up in such an intensely erotophobic and
homophobic culture -- there was no way to escape it, even after we accepted that we were
gay. We didn't always treat each other well, and it permeated our sexual expression
whether it was vanilla or S&M.
You mention in your blog post that you are wary of how I talk about BDSM as arising
from "self-loathing" and "insecurity" and negative cultural pressures on the gay
community. Yes -- in S&M and in vanilla sex -- I saw how we brought a lot of the
culture's contempt to what we did. But, as I say in Sex Positive, many of us came to
realize this, and we understood that a lot of sexual fantasies are socially constructed by
the times that shaped us. Many of us came to realize that sexual fantasies don't diminish
us as people -- they can actually help free and enrich us when we understand what we're
doing.
I'm reluctant to put myself forward as a role model for BDSM and sex work, because of
what happened to me after AIDS when I went back to hustling. I was furious that there
was no place in the community for me to do safe sex education. I felt so hurt that some
people only saw me as a sex worker/sadomasochist and that political differences got in
the way of saving sexually active gay men's lives. You can't imagine the rage I felt that it
took two entire years after we wrote and published "How to Have Sex in an Epidemic"
for NYC to do its first safe sex campaign. I went back to hustling in such despair that I
was an addiction waiting to happen, and that's what did.
In the end, though, BDSM and my love for it is part of what saved my life. If I weren't so
busy hustling with BDSM before AIDS and safe sex, I would have spent much more time
at the baths having high risk sex, and died long ago. I think each of us has a limit to how
much sex and how many different partners our spirits can bear. Sex can become an
addiction, and when you reach that point, people use recreational drugs to keep that level
of hypersexual activity going. If I had found a place in safe sex education, my life would
have been a much happier, healthier journey. But I never lose sight of how grateful I am
to still be here, or how much joy and pleasure sexual freedom gave me until the world I
loved started collapsing all around me and taking the men I loved along with it.
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2009/03/23/interview-with-richard-berkowitz-star-of-sexpositive-and-icon-of-safer-sex-activism/
Check out Richard Berkowitz's web site to read more about him and investigate his book
(which I admit I have not read), Stayin' Alive: The Invention of Safe Sex:
http://richardberkowitz.com/
And seriously, if you get the chance, watch Daryl Wein's awesome documentary Sex
Positive:
http://www.sexpositive-themovie.com/
* * *
* * *
* * *
ABUSE:
[theory] Social Responsibility Within Activism
I wrote this post in 2010 for Thanksgiving (the original post had a bunch of "thank yous"
at the end, which I removed from this version). The questions here seem to be some of the
biggest recurring questions in my life. Later events have taught me a lot about work that
has already been done on accountability within communities. In particular, I want to
highlight the book The Revolution Starts At Home: Confronting Intimate Violence
Within Activist Communities (edited by Ching-In Chen, Jai Dulani, and Leah Lakshmi
Piepzna-Samarasinha), which was published in 2011.
But there's a lot of other work out there on how to deal with a perpetrator of violence
without resorting to our corrupt and violent established prison system. People of color
should be credited for much of this work, because communities of color are rarely wellserved
by the criminal justice system, and thus have particular incentives to seek
alternatives. Sometimes, this field is called "transformative justice" or "restorative
justice." Here is a post that links to a number of resources on transformative justice:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2012/01/30/some-transformative-justice-links/
* * *
Social Responsibility Within Activism
Tonight I had Thanksgiving dinner with my mother and her boyfriend. Some friends of
my mother attended, one of whom is a lesbian who I'll call Kay. Kay attended dinner
with her mother, who is unaware of Kay's sexual orientation. One of the reasons Kay's
mom doesn't know about Kay's sexual orientation is that Kay's mom has already behaved
quite badly towards Kay's elder sister, who is an out-of-the-closet lesbian.
I knew this whole situation going in, and one thing that struck me was how much of a
nice person Kay's mom is. I mean... she's really nice. I mean, she clearly tries to be a
good person. She also tried really hard to help me do the dishes. (I didn't let her because I
wanted them all to myself.)
I've been thinking a lot lately about how to engage with people who have done bad
things, or who are currently doing things I think are bad (like shaming their lesbian
daughters). It wouldn't have been right to throw my sex-positive ideas on the table while
talking to Kay's mom -- mostly because Kay specifically asked me not to, ahead of time.
But. The most powerful tool for getting people to reconsider their stigma against
alternative sexuality is personal engagement. Don't I have some responsibility here? Is
there something I can do?
Other examples of this are rife. One very intense, very important issue I grappled with
this week was having a friend email me to inform me that another friend -- someone I
like and admire a lot -- has been credibly accused of sexual assault by a person who will
never press charges. This has come up before in my life... every time it's a little different,
and yet so many things are the same: a person is assaulted, the news gets out among
friends, the survivor doesn't press charges, there is confusion among the friends about
how to act, eventually things die down, and I feel as though I should have done more.
When I was in high school, one of my closest male friends raped a female acquaintance
of mine. She didn't press charges and they later had a romance that was, to all
appearances, consensual. I pieced events together slowly -- he did acknowledge what he'd
done, though never directly to me. I didn't know what to do, at the time, and I still feel as
though I should have done so much more. He and I were so close. I never had the nerve
to directly talk to him about what happened, because -- even though we never talked
directly about it -- I saw evidence that he felt terrible about it, and I was sure that I could
devastate him by talking about it more. But still... I should have talked to him.
I also feel as though I should have supported her more, but I don't know what I could
have said. There were people who told her that she shouldn't be having a consensual
relationship with her rapist. It seemed wrong to tell her that -- I felt like it eroded her
agency, attacked her right to choose -- so I didn't say it. If I had said it, though, would
that have been helpful to her? What could I have done to be a better resource for her?
Especially given that I was such close friends with him?
I was young(er), but that's no excuse. Then again, what am I excusing? I did nothing. But
I should have done more.
Now, again, I have a friend, a good friend, who assaulted someone. It's a friend in the
local S&M community. I don't know the survivor at all. I have to talk to my friend about
it, but what do I say, and what happens next? Feminism instructs us that we should listen
to the voices of survivors, that community mores and community condemnation are what
stops rape from happening. I believe these things to be true; and there are people close to
me who have survived rape, and I really want to make sure I'm doing everything I can to
ensure that rape stops happening. But I intensely wish that I had more guidance on what
exactly to say, how exactly to act, to change the mores.
I emailed my ex-boyfriend Mr. Chastity for advice, because he's got one of the finest
ethical minds I've ever been lucky enough to engage with. Here's part of what he wrote
back:
I've tried to distill your messages into a few questions, and I ended up with "How does
one parse a situation in which a friend, and an otherwise noble person, seems to have
done serious wrong?" and "What are a person's moral obligations in this case?"
Nobody is composed of unmixed goodness or evil, no matter how much of a
paragon/fiend 1) they seem to be or 2) their principles require. People we respect and
love are not forces of nature or avatars of their cause of choice, no matter how
thoroughly they embody it to us. I don't say this because I think you haven't considered it,
but because I know I've had a lot of trouble absorbing it over the years and think it might
therefore bear restating to others, too.
As an individual, a person has a relatively large degree of freedom in action and
association. I think where this case becomes truly difficult to consider is when we bring
in justice and the community. Because the means of enforcement of the rules of these
communities is so interpersonal, one's interpersonal actions take on an unusual role of
community-level justice as well as merely justice between two people. I can't see how it
could ever be good to allow things like this to just slide. Honestly, I'm not sure what else
you can do but (as you suggest in one of your messages) politely ask your friend about
their take on the story. If nothing else, it will demonstrate that people are paying
attention to this thing and might give you some insight into their character and opinions
of the issue.
He's right. I agree. But. What now? How do I ask, what do I say? How can I tell if my
friend has dealt with whatever healing has to take place in order for such assaults not to
happen again?
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2010/11/26/social-responsibility-activism-and-givingthanks/
It is really worth reading about work that's already been done on transformative justice:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2012/01/30/some-transformative-justice-links/
* * *
* * *
* * *
BOUNDARIES:
[storytime] Taking Care Of Each Other
This was originally published in 2012 at the girl-power site OffOurChests.com.
* * *
Taking Care Of Each Other
As a sex educator, I think a lot about how to teach boundaries. I try to come up with
exercises, stories, maxims that could help people respect their own bodies, minds, and
desires; and of course I also think about how to encourage people to respect others'
boundaries. But the biggest influences on a person's boundaries have nothing to do with
what I teach. Good boundaries are (hopefully) demonstrated by parents, influenced by
friends, and encouraged by partners.
Within a community, though, I also think it's really important not to tell people what to
do. I believe that it's crucial to be a good resource for the people close to us, without
trying to force them to do what we think is best. That way, we can both build trust and
foster independence. On the other hand, sometimes it's hard to know how to do that when
I know more about a certain subject than someone else. It is so powerfully tempting to
tell them what I think they should do!
I was thinking about this recently when, out of the blue, I remembered something that
happened when I was 16 or 17. I'd just had a nasty breakup, I was really unhappy about
my ex, and I was trying marijuana. I had never smoked before.
There were a bunch of other people my age present -- including a guy who'd been flirting
with me for a while. When he passed me the marijuana, he kissed me. I kissed back. I
wasn't attracted to him, but I felt so empty and hurt, and I guess it was reassuring that
someone wanted me, despite the fact that my ex-boyfriend didn't.
Also around was a girl who I'll call Lena. I had always seen Lena as tough and no-
nonsense, but I didn't know much else about her. I think she probably considered me a bit
naive. Anyway, Lena watched the situation and my body language; she knew that it was
my first time smoking. A few minutes later, she took me aside. I don't remember the
exact conversation, but I seem to recall that it went something like this:
"Clarisse," Lena said, "how are you feeling?"
"I'm not sure," I said. Truth be told, I felt a bit numb.
Lena looked directly into my face. "How far do you want to go tonight?" she asked.
I looked away. I felt embarrassed because she seemed so composed. I felt like an airhead
compared to her. We were standing next to a wooden wall, and I pretended to study the
wood-grain. "I don't know," I said vaguely.
"If you can tell me how far you want to go tonight," Lena said firmly, "then I'll make sure
nothing goes past that. Do you want to keep making out? Do you want to do more than
make out?"
I traced a knot in the wood with my finger. "Making out," I decided.
"Okay," Lena said, and nodded. I don't remember if she said anything else, but as she
took me back to the group I still felt a little embarrassed -- and also incredibly relieved.
I wonder if I ever thanked Lena? I should have; maybe I'll try to find her on Facebook or
something. Because I really did feel a lot safer that night, knowing that Lena was looking
out for me. I made out with that gentleman a little bit more, but after a while I put a stop
to it, and nothing else happened.
Maybe if Lena hadn't been there, I still would have had the wherewithal to stop making
out with him; or maybe I would have felt so confused, anxious, numb that I let it go
further. (And I can tell you for sure that I'm glad it didn't go further.) Or, God forbid,
maybe if she hadn't been there then I would have been actively pressured into something
that I actively objected to.
Before that, it had never occurred to me to set a clear boundary before I hooked up with a
guy. That's an important lesson in itself! Even more importantly, though, Lena didn't tell
me what to do. She didn't say anything about how I should be sexual, or who I should do
it with. She didn't shame me for what was up. She just asked me what I wanted, and then
she offered me her support.
Certainly, Lena is just one small piece in the puzzle of my life. But I still remember her,
and I admire and thank her. My parents have offered me a lot of support throughout my
life, both in my relationships and otherwise. I've had partners who helped show me what
it means to create a low-pressure sexual environment, or who helped me learn clear
sexual communication. Still, Lena stands out in my mind -- someone I barely knew, yet
someone who helped show me what it means to be among women who stand up for each
other and help preserve each other's boundaries.
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://offourchests.com/taking-care-of-each-other/
* * *
* * *
* * *
MANLINESS:
[theory] Questions I Want To Ask Entitled Cis Het Men
I wrote this piece in 2009. It was the culmination of years I'd spent thinking about
masculinity, manliness, and men's gender role. I was relatively new to blogging, and I
hadn't yet established myself. I thought that the most controversial things I would ever
write would be about S&M. I was wrong.
I published this in three parts, and it got a huge response. The major feminist blog Alas!
A Blog asked to repost it, for example, but there was a much bigger reaction among nonfeminist
and anti-feminist men. Some wrote responses with titles like "Answers for an
Entitled Feminist." Others actually came over to my blog and engaged me, with varying
results. It kicked off a long, dense discussion in my blog Comments section, which lasted
for over a year and thousands of comments. I wrote a number of followups, including
some that got me labeled "brainwashed by the patriarchy" by other feminist women.
Some of the guys I was talking to got me interested in the "pickup artist subculture" or
"seduction community" -- a group of men who trade tips, tricks, and tactics on how to
seduce women. Eventually, I did an in-depth investigation of that subculture and wrote
the book Confessions of a Pickup Artist Chaser: Long Interviews with Hideous Men,
which contains some of my best work on masculinity, communication, and sexuality. You
can buy that on Smashwords at this link:
https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/144451
One thing I've discovered over the last few years, as I learned more about the history of
feminism, is that there are excellent reasons why most feminists are unwilling to talk
about men's problems. There's a ton of politics involved, and a lot of very justified fears
about the political ground we could lose. We still have a long way to go when it comes to
gender equality. But I do believe that those fears are often overblown.
And I've also discovered that there's a subgroup of feminists that's much more likely to be
open to talking about men's experience: it's the sex-positive feminists, especially the
S&M feminists. To be sure, there are exceptions. Plenty of S&M feminists see no reason
to discuss men's experience, and of course, plenty of S&M feminists don't like my writing
in particular. But most feminist essays I've found about masculinity were written by
women who openly admitted that they were into S&M -- Gayle Rubin, author of the
pioneering sexuality essay "Thinking Sex," is one good example. Maybe the S&M
feminists are the ones most likely to intuitively understand that power is never a onedimensional
picture or a one-way street.
* * *
Questions I Want To Ask Entitled Cis Het Men, Part 1: Who Cares?
Why do I care about masculinity?
I'm rather perverted, but not enormously queer. I present as femme, and -- although I've
been known to tease my sensitive (frequently long-haired) lovers for being
"unmasculine" -- I fall in love with men. I'm hardly one to go for the "manly man" type,
but at heart, I love knowing that I'm fucking a man.
However, because I'm cisgendered and straight, I feel profoundly at a loss when trying to
articulate problems of (for lack of a better phrase) "Men's Empowerment." The issues
don't feel "native" to me; I've intersected with these questions mainly through the lens of
lovers and friends. Watching their struggle is demoralizing, but trying to imagine how I
can give them feedback is more demoralizing.
A male friend once wrote to me, "I think you personally find expressions of
masculinity hot, but you also have no patience with sexism. You've caught on that it's
tricky for men to figure out how to deliver both of these things you need, that you don't
have a lot of good direction to give to fellas about it, and that neither does anyone else."
So:
How can men be supportive and non-oppressive while remaining overtly masculine?
On top of my limited perspective, there's been an echoing lack of discourse -- that is, very
little mainstream acknowledgement of the problems of masculinity. The primary factor in
that silence is that normative cis men themselves tend to be flatly unwilling to discuss
gender/sex issues. Often, their first objection is that the discussion is neither important
nor relevant. This is true even within subcultures centered around sexual analysis, like the
BDSM world -- I once met a cis male BDSMer who said, "Why bother talking about
male sexuality? It's the norm. Fish don't have a word for water."
But if masculine sexuality is water and we're fish, why doesn't that motivate us to
examine it more -- not less?
Don't get me wrong: I agree that America's sexual conceptions are centered around
stereotypical male sexuality, and I agree that this is damaging and problematic. Believe
me, I'm furious that it took me many years to reconceive "actual" sex around acts other
than good ole penis-in-vagina penetration! But if American stereotypes and ideas of
sexuality are male-centered, then surely that makes it more useful for us to be thinking
about male sexuality -- not less.
And those male-centered ideas of sexuality aren't centered around all men -- just
stereotypical men. LGBTQ men are obvious examples whose sexuality falls outside the
norm; fortunately for them, they've created some spaces to discuss that. But there are lots
of other non-normative guys who aren't gay or queer, yet feel very similar sexual
alienation -- and because there's so little discourse about masculinity outside LGBTQ
circles, they usually just don't talk about it.
What does it mean to be a cis het man whose sexuality isn't normative? Which straight
cis guys don't fit -- and hence, feel alienated from -- our current overarching sexual
stereotypes?
Guys who identify as straight BDSM submissives are one fabulous example of nonnormative
men who are frequently alienated from mainstream masculine sexuality, but
who often don't have a forum. Men with small penises are a second. There are lots of
others. In the words of sex blogger and essayist Thomas Millar: "The common
understanding of male sexuality is a stereotype, an ultra-narrow group of desires and
activities oriented around PIV [penis-in-vagina], anal intercourse and blowjobs; oriented
around cissexual women partners having certain very narrow groups of physical
characteristics."
Still, that doesn't mean that straight, dominant, big-dicked dudes who love boning thin
chicks feel totally okay about the current state of affairs. It just means they tend to have
less immediate motivation to question it. They also have less of an eye for spotting
gender oppression, because -- though they've got their own boxes hemming them in --
they're still more privileged than the rest of us, and the nature of privilege is to blind the
privileged class to its existence.
A male submissive once told me, "Lots of heteronormative men know something is
wrong with the way we think about sex and gender. I can see them struggling with it
when we talk. They can't put their finger on it; they have a hard time engaging it. But I
engage it all the time; I have to, because my sexuality opposes it."
When is it to a man's advantage to examine and question masculinity and stereotypes of
male sexuality? Which men are motivated to do so?
It's tempting to assert that men whose desires fit neatly (or at least mostly) within the
stereotype have it made -- after all, their sexuality works within the norm so many of us
struggle to escape. But I've had this assumption corrected several times, usually by smart
"stereotypical" men themselves. At one point, while developing a sexuality workshop, I
sent the outline to a bunch of friends. The original draft contained this paragraph: "Our
sexual scripts favor a certain stereotype of men and male sexual pleasure, which makes it
hard for women to figure out what we really want and what we really enjoy, and also
makes it harder for non-stereotypical men to figure that out." One friend sent that
paragraph back, having quietly appended: "... as well as for stereotypical men to discover
or explore new desires beyond the stereotypical script."
When we discuss the limitations around sexuality from a non-normative perspective, how
do we exclude normative people who might develop themselves in new directions if they
had the chance? What do normative men stand to gain by thinking outside the box about
masculinity and sexuality?
* * *
Questions I Want To Ask Entitled Cis Het Men, Part 2: Men's Rights
In the 2006 documentary "Boy I Am", a trans man talks about how one of his mental
barriers to transitioning was the fact that after transition, he would be a "white male."
And, he laughs, the "last thing in the world" he wanted to be was a white male!
A year or two ago, I attended a lecture by Jackson Katz, a rather overtly masculine, cis
male anti-abuse educator who lectures in colleges around the country. Bullet-headed and
aggressive in stance, he said a lot of valuable things -- particularly about how men ought
to take ownership of problems we traditionally consider "women's issues." It's certainly
true that if we want to end male abuse of women, men must participate in the movement.
But although Katz discussed some issues of masculinity, I heard little about how we can
make things better for men. His proposition of a men's movement was centered around
correcting the things some men are doing wrong.
Although they're often watered down, many feminist concepts have gone mainstream.
For instance, Americans have some consciousness of traditional feminist critiques about
how women's bodies are represented in the media. Indeed, that consciousness has become
so endemic that, in a grandly ironic twist, marketers now capitalize on it to sell beauty
products: the nationwide Dove Campaign for Real Beauty attempts to use
deconstruction of the media's representation of women to sell Dove soap. Americans
are also quite aware of men as the privileged class -- sometimes regarded outright as the
oppressors.
But this shift in awareness about gender issues faced by women has not been
accompanied by a widespread understanding of gender issues faced by men. And that
creates situations like an activist working towards a masculinity movement that talks
mainly about how men are hurting women, or a trans man who has trouble with the idea
of transitioning partly because he doesn't want to be a white man -- one of the oppressors.
How can awareness of oppressive dynamics make it difficult for men to own their
masculinity? Does male privilege ever make life harder for men? When does male
privilege blind us to oppression of masculinity? There's some mainstream awareness of
gender issues faced by women; is there any similar awareness of the problems of
masculinity?
A good friend of mine first caught my attention by talking about gender. We encountered
each other at a BDSM meetup, and when I mentioned that I'd been thinking about the
boxes around masculine sexuality, he launched into a rant about oppressive sexual
dynamics. He gave me references to complex sexuality blogs and intelligently used
words like "heteronormative" and "patriarchy." But a month or so after we started talking,
I mentioned his interest in gender issues... and he gave me a puzzled look. "I'm not really
into gender studies," he said.
He talks about sex, gender and culture all the time -- but he also specifically identifies as