highly masculine, and felt that to be at odds with identifying as someone who questions
masculinity. As Thomas Millar writes in his aforementioned article: "There's a huge
unstated assumption that to even address the question [of male sexuality], for men, is to
mark one's self as 'other.' ... cis het men are brought up to fear that their masculinity could
ever be called into question. By even opening up a dialog, I think some folks fear that
they are conceding that their sexuality is not uncontroversial."
Men currently experience this problem in a way that women do not. In other words,
women don't risk being seen as unfeminine as easily as men risk being seen as
unmasculine; nor do we have quite the same fears about it. In 2008, a group of
researchers published a paper called "Precarious Manhood." Their concluding statement:
"Our findings suggest that [so-called] real men experience their gender as a tenuous
status that they may at any time lose and about which they readily experience anxiety and
threat." Earlier in the paper, they wrote that -- although "our focus on manhood does not
deny the importance of women's gender-related struggles" -- "Women who do not live up
to cultural standards of femininity may be punished, rejected, or viewed as 'unladylike,'
but rarely will their very status as women be questioned in the same way as men's status
often is."
When is it to a man's disadvantage to publicly examine and question masculinity? Surely
the mere act of questioning and examining gender does not make a man less masculine;
how can we work against the perception that it does?
At the same time, though, this isn't a "with us or against us" situation: men who don't
choose to identify as non-normative also don't tend to join the "opposition." By
"opposition" I mean folks like "Men's Rights Activists" (on the Internet we call them
MRAs). MRAs -- at least according to my stereotype of them -- are conscious of social
and legal disadvantages suffered by men, such as the fact that men are at a severe
disadvantage in child custody cases; at the same time, they're blind to male privilege. It's
a deadly combination. My personal favorite MRA quotation ever is, "White men are the
most discriminated-against group in the country." Mercifully, MRAs are a fringe group,
but they make a big impression.
My "not into gender studies" friend once told me that although he frequently deconstructs
problems of masculinity in the privacy of his own mind, he doesn't like to publicly have
those conversations because he doesn't want to sound like an MRA. He said, "A lot of the
time, men who want to think seriously about masculinity won't talk about it aloud
because we really don't want to be that." He later added, "It's very tricky to discuss
masculinity yet avoid simply devolving into male entitlement. That's the crux of the
problem with the 'Men's Movement' assholes -- none of them are addressing the
underlying problems of masculinity. They're just whining about not receiving the
privileges their cultural conditioning tells them to expect."
How do the current "men's rights movements" discourage men who might, in a different
climate, be very interested in discussing masculinity? Assuming men can reclaim the
"pro-masculinity movement" from MRAs, do any men feel motivated to do so? Can men
occupy the middle ground between MRAs and LGBTQ, feminist, or other leftist
discussions of gender -- that is, can men find space to discuss masculinity without being
aligned with "one side or the other"?
All too frequently in radical sex/gender circles, the theme has been blame. Men in
particular are excoriated for failing to adequately support feminism -- or criticized for
failing to join the fight against oppressive sex and gender norms -- but few ideas are
offered for how men can be supportive and non-oppressive while remaining overtly
masculine, especially if their sexuality is normative (e.g., straight/dominant/big-dicked).
There are fragments: some insight might be drawn from the ways in which many BDSM
communities create non-oppressive frameworks within which we have our deliciously
oppressive sex. With practice, one can get shockingly good at preserving a heavy
dominant/submissive dynamic that still allows both partners to talk about their other
needs. Surely that understanding of sexual roles vs. other needs could be adapted to the
service of gender identity. Yet so many BDSMers still fall prey to the same old gendered
preconceptions, and talk nonsense about how "all women are naturally submissive" or
whatever.
Don't get me wrong: of course anyone would deserve plenty of blame if they refused to
let go of their entitlement, or chose not to examine the ways their behavior might
support an oppressive system. But I think men exist who are willing to do those things,
yet feel blocked from relevant discussions because participating creates anxiety about
their sexual or gender identity. It strikes me as unreasonable to attack them for that.
Choosing to present one's sexuality and/or gender identity in a normative way is not in
itself a sin. It's not fair to expect people to fit themselves into a box that doesn't suit them
-- not even for The All-Important Cause of better understanding sex and gender.
Where can we find ideas for how men can be both supportive and non-oppressive, and
overtly masculine? How can we make it to normative men's advantage to analyze
masculine norms? What does it look like to be masculine, but liberated from the
strictures of stereotypical masculinity? How can we contribute to a Men's Movement that
encompasses all three bases -- being perceived as masculine, acknowledging male
privilege, and deconstructing the problems of masculinity?
* * *
Questions I Want To Ask Entitled Cis Het Men, Part 3: Space for Men
I'm about to assert something that makes me nervous, because I worry that people are
going to stick me in the "asshole MRA" box. Don't get me wrong: I certainly don't think
that women have it better, overall, than men do. But I do wonder whether it might be
good for feminists to acknowledge that -- although we don't experience nearly as
much privilege as men -- there are a lot of advantages women experience that men don't.
Because women aren't seen as threatening, we have an easier time doing confrontational
things like approaching strangers on the street. Because women aren't seen as fighters, we
stand a lower chance of being mugged than men do. Because women are seen as
emotional, we're given a huge amount of social space to consider and discuss our
feelings. I can work with and be affectionate with children far more easily than a man
could. I can be explicit and overt about my sexuality without being viewed as a creep.
And there are at least a few recurring complaints about how trying to be masculine can
suck. First and foremost: that men don't feel they've been taught to process their
emotions, or don't feel allowed to display them. Another: that they're perceived as less
manly if they don't achieve success through a career, especially if they aren't the main
breadwinner for their family. A third: that men are expected to be sexually insatiable, or
always to be sexually available.
Of course, it's worth noting that the advantages women experience are almost always the
flip side of unfortunate stereotypes. For instance, one might say that women get more
social space for emotion because we're stereotyped as irrational and hysterical. But that
doesn't change the fact that most of us easily grasp that space, while most men don't. And
if we can reject the Oppression Olympics for just one minute and stop thinking about
who's got it worse, it becomes clear that the advantages and drawbacks associated with
being both male and female are intertwined. The two systems reinforce, and cannot
function without, each other. The gender binary may not hurt everyone equally, but it
hurts everyone. As those beautiful "Every Girl / Every Boy" posters say, the most
obvious example is: "For every girl who is tired of acting weak when she is strong, there
is a boy tired of appearing strong when he feels vulnerable."
I do suspect that it may not be psychologically realistic to ask people from our underdogloving
culture to embrace an image of themselves as privileged; my thoughts turn again
to the trans man who hated the thought of being a white male. But if we feminists can't
work productively from a stance that acknowledges our social advantages, how can we
expect straight/dominant/big-dicked men to do it?
Could feminist acknowledgment of the women's gender-based advantages help pave the
way for more men to acknowledge male privilege? Could feminist acknowledgment of the
advantages on both sides of the gender binary help us better grasp what sucks about
being a guy?
Am I citing Thomas MacAulay Millar too much here? Well, at least once, he frustrated
me. Amongst the comments on one blog post, I thought he was stating his views about
stereotypical guys rather harshly. I suggested that it might be better to seek common
ground, or at least to explain things gently; he said he wasn't interested -- "I think we all
work with some people where they are and can't soft-sell our views enough to deal with
others." He added, "If I'm going to alienate someone for saying what I think too bluntly,
I'll pick entitled cis het dudes."
I won't pretend I didn't laugh when I read that -- but I worried about it, too. I've had an
enormous number of experiences trying to discuss feminism/sex/gender with men in
which the men tensed, bristled, and closed me out. I don't think it was always because
those guys couldn't stand the thought of losing their privilege, either. I think a lot of
dudes have been led to feel that they have no place in gender discussions -- that those
discussions will always be about what men are doing wrong, and that no one's prepared
to work with them where they are.
All groups have outsiders. Movements inevitably form themselves around oppositional
forces. As someone who's spent her share of time feeling feminist rage, I'd say that being
filled with feminist rage is totally understandable. And seriously, don't get me wrong: I'm
not giving unfeminist guys a free pass. I'm not happy about the fact that so many men are
apparently alienated from feminism because us radicals are too confrontational -- or too
uncomfortably correct -- for their fragile masculine egos to handle. (I'm being sarcastic!
Mostly.) I'm really not happy about the fact that I've got to think about marketing antioppression
-- in a just universe, wouldn't anti-oppression market itself?
But at the same time, I'm a realist. I know this isn't a just universe, and I want to use
tactics that'll achieve my goals. Which are: I'd really like to find more men at my side in
the sex and gender wars. I'd really like to talk to more guys who don't see ideas stamped
with feminism as an attack -- rather, as an opportunity for alliance. Plus, if we're going to
think in terms of cold hard tactics, it's worth noting that normative men hold most of the
power in America. (That's part of what we're complaining about, right?) So swelling our
ranks with The Oppressive Class means we can ruthlessly use their power for good.
Can we do better at making feminist discourses around gender and sexuality open to
normative men, without driving ourselves crazy? How can we make our movement open
to, and accepting of, normative men? Put another way, how do we convince normative
men to support us?
Maybe we don't need a lot of normative men in the camp of sex and gender radicals;
maybe we'll be happier without silly Gender Studies 101 questions clotting our
discussions. Still, even if we don't try to "recruit" them, I'd love to see more widespread
analysis of masculinity and masculine sexuality amongst normative dudes... if only
because getting a sense for their societal boxes might simply make them happier. If only
because I think they've got their own liberation to strive for.
So at the very least, I'd like to contribute to an America where serious examination of
masculinity and male sexuality can flourish.
That's my final question. How do I do it?
* * *
The above entries originally appeared at:
and
and
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2009/10/18/questions-i-want-to-ask-entitled-cis-het-menpart-1/
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2009/10/20/questions-i-want-to-ask-entitled-cis-het-menpart-2-mens-rights/
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2009/10/24/questions-i-want-to-ask-entitled-cis-het-menpart-3-space-for-men/
The first followup (plus many many comments) is available at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2009/12/09/manliness-and-feminism-the-followup/
* * *
* * *
* * *
EDUCATION:
[theory] Sexual ABCs in Africa, Part 1: Abstinence
In 2009-2010, I spent a year in sub-Saharan Africa working on HIV mitigation. It was
fascinating, frustrating, heartbreaking work. I learned an enormous amount about the
possibilities and pitfalls of foreign aid, public health, and global injustice -- far more
than I could ever summarize in an introductory paragraph. Maybe someday I'll write
more about it all, but in the meantime, if my articles leave you with an appetite for more,
then I recommend two wrenching books: Letting Them Die: Why HIV/AIDS Prevention
Programmes Fail by Catherine Campbell, and The Wisdom of Whores: Bureaucrats,
Brothels and the Business of AIDS by Elizabeth Pisani. (Pisani's book in particular gave
me so many moments of recognition that I was almost offended. I was like, dammit,
Elizabeth Pisani, this is the book I wanted to write!)
In early 2010, while I was still in Africa, I began writing a series of articles about my
experiences. These articles were published at CarnalNation.com and edited by Chris
Hall, who is a smart sex-positive writer in his own right. I'm especially grateful to Chris
because, unlike a lot of editors, he made the effort to grasp where I was coming from; he
always made requests rather than demands, and never changed my work without
consulting me. Good editors are hard to come by, and I hope that when I edit other
writers' work today, I do credit to the model Chris provided.
I'm sad to report that CarnalNation ceased publishing new articles in late 2010,
although you can still read the archives online (and I encourage you to do so). There are
a lot of "sex-positive" websites out there that have little real understanding of sex
communities, activism, etc. -- not to mention, there are websites that hire talented and
ethical writers, but then hide truly unethical business practices. But from what I could
tell, CarnalNation was the real deal. The list of contributors read like a Sex-Positive All-
Stars, and I was proud to be part of it.
So, anyway. This is the first of a bunch of articles that I originally wrote about sex and
culture in southern Africa. Like all my writing, it's framed within my own experience.
(I'm not republishing all the Africa articles in this book, but they're all available in my
CarnalNation archive.) And before we get into it, I would like to note one final thing.
One problem with how many Westerners write about Africa is that they treat Africa as
"one country": there's little acknowledgment that Africa is a huge, diverse continent full
of many different cultures. I try to avoid that, but I also write under a pseudonym, and
thus I can't write too precisely about where I was or what I did in Africa. I'm sorry about
that, and I hope I don't come off as too much of a colonialist asshole.
* * *
Sexual ABCs in Africa, Part 1: Abstinence
In the beginning of 2009, I made a name for myself as a sex-positive, pro-BDSM
educator in Chicago -- and no one was more surprised than me by how suddenly
successful I was! I curated the explosive pro-sex, pro-queer, pro-kink documentary film
series Sex+++ at Jane Addams Hull-House Museum. I lectured on both BDSM and
sexual communication in Chicago, San Francisco and New York. I even fielded a call
from Oprah's office! Then, just as my life was going all crazy, I was offered a job doing
HIV/AIDS mitigation in southern Africa. I've wanted to do it for years, so I accepted --
though not without some soul-searching.
Rather a change of pace, right? I thought I might even give up basic romance by coming
here... but not so fast. Only a month after moving, I met a guy I really liked. He's another
American, also here to work on HIV/AIDS; we live a bit far apart, but flirted constantly
by text message. We discussed etymology, traded literary recommendations, compared
religion -- I'm Unitarian, he's a Baha'i convert. He lived one summer in Chicago, and we
discovered that we'd shopped at the same bookstores.
One night, we found ourselves in the same nightclub. Using a cigarette as an excuse to go
outside, we abandoned the music and talked for hours. Our friends came to check on us
multiple times, with varying degrees of smirking insinuation; we kept promising to go
back in after one cigarette, then neglecting to actually smoke it. The conversation went
through homesickness, ethics, roleplaying games, more literature. I lent him a book. He
promised to visit me.
His next text message, a few days later, was plainly nervous. Can you imagine someone
blurting a text message? That's what he did when he told me that he takes the "no sex
before marriage" part of his Baha'i faith seriously. I was stunned -- but I had to laugh,
too. Of course Miss Clarisse Thorn, pro-sex advocate, just had to fixate on a man who
wouldn't sleep with her!
* * *
I did not undergo abstinence-only sex education. My middle school's health teachers were
admirably forthright and even hosted condom demonstrations in the auditorium, more
power to 'em. I also had the good fortune to be raised Unitarian -- so I received incredibly
compassionate, complete sex education in Sunday School.
Still, for a long time I was strongly attracted to chastity. In my teens, I decided that I
wouldn't lose my virginity until I was much older -- I think I picked age 25 -- because I
wanted to be sure I'd be mature enough to handle it. This resolution didn't last, but after I
became sexually active, I occasionally came back to the idea. A few female friends took
"time off" -- in some cases, full years of abstinence. I considered doing so myself,
strongly and for a long time.
Back then, I was terrible at communicating about sex. Reading explicit sex scenes made
me feel anxious, perhaps because I felt they set standards I couldn't "perform." Talking
explicitly to my partners felt impossible, not least because I had practically no idea what I
wanted. Worst of all, I could feel the societal boxes around my sexuality, but I couldn't
articulate them. Plus, there were dark undercurrents to my sexuality that simply scared
me. Abstinence was the only obvious way around my sex-negative cultural baggage!
Once I adjusted into my BDSM orientation, once I got a grip on how to circumvent some
problems with how Americans tend to think about sex, once I experienced mutual sexual
communication that was totally trusting and adventurous... my attraction to chastity was
greatly reduced. These days, the idea only seems awesome when (a) I've just been
romantically burned, or (b) I want more time to myself.
It's tempting to think that Mr. Chastity might be the same way: that he's uncomfortable
for similar reasons; that he'll "get over it." Tempting -- and offensively presumptuous.
Maybe he'll re-examine his motives someday, and maybe he won't. The important thing is
to respect his feelings. So when he sent me that text, I did what any responsible sexpositive
girl ought to do: I honored his boundaries and thought seriously about whether I
could work within them.
I wrote back:
I think it's adorable that you told me the vow thing by text- & on a serious note, I rather
admire you for challenging yourself & social expectations of masculinity. I can't afford
exegesis of my sexual history by text; we can talk about it when you visit- which I hope
you do, even if you insist on sleeping on the floor. I promise not to push you- though I
confess I'm curious about the vow's limits. But I also understand if you don't feel
comfortable coming down.
His relief, in our next few exchanges, was palpable. I think a man who wants to abstain
has a far trickier journey ahead of him than a woman: America's sexual assumptions may
be formed around stereotypical male sexuality -- which really sucks for women -- but it's
a very narrow stereotype that limits men too. Men are expected to be insatiable, and
preferring not to have sex casts a man's entire masculinity into question. His abstinence
can cause anxiety for the female partner, too: after all, given an assumption that men are
nigh-indiscriminate sex machines, a woman might feel that there's something terribly
wrong with her if a man won't bang her.
Mr. Chastity has dealt with those problems a lot, so my careful reaction and evident lack
of anxiety won me lots of points. Since then, I've met up with him publicly twice, and
we've even managed to make out! He's still going to visit. Maybe I can convince him to
sleep in bed, as long as I promise not to put the moves on him.
And maybe, just maybe, his vow allows him to practice BDSM... a girl can dream, right?
But seriously, if we can do BDSM together, then I just might be his dream partner. I'd be
happy to focus our sexual time on BDSM and foreplay, and to ignore "actual" sex
indefinitely. Plus, some people argue that declining to sate ourselves sexually is the best
tactic for prolonging romantic magic. So this could be the way for Mr. Chastity to
become the love of my life.
* * *
In Africa, the mantra for HIV educators is ABC: the three things that protect against HIV/
AIDS are Abstinence, Being faithful, and Condom usage. But my job is much more
complicated than passing out condoms and wagging my finger. The problem isn't so
much that people don't know how to avoid HIV, although myths and misconceptions do
exist. The problem is that people don't seem willing to change their behavior in order to
protect themselves... or that they don't feel they have the power to change their behavior.
People can't just know about condoms -- they must prioritize condom usage despite
drawbacks like loss of pleasure or pressure from their partners. People can't just know
that HIV is sexually transmitted -- they must be psychologically open to abstaining from
sex despite drawbacks that are, well, obvious. HIV prevention in Africa is less about
sharing knowledge, now, and more about marketing: giving people a new perspective on
sex, their health, and their futures.
Of course, I'm totally psyched about marketing some of these social aspects, like gender
equality. (Gender equality is an HIV/AIDS issue for lots of reasons -- the most obvious
being that the less power women have, the less they control their own sexual acts.) But
others give me pause. Abstinence? Seriously? It sticks in my craw. Obviously, I don't
have a problem with people choosing not to have sex... but I'm not sure how I feel about
actively convincing people not to have sex.
In America, I advocate for open, explicit, pleasure-affirming sex education. But that's a
radical stance even in America -- I'm not sure whether it's possible here! At least I'm
spotting a few allies, some in unexpected places: for instance, there's a great high-profile,
outspoken sex-positive educator named Agrippa Khathide in South Africa... who happens
to be a pastor. I'm starting to think there's room to do fascinating work here, creating
culturally appropriate sex-positive education.
Yet abstinence remains the only 100% effective tactic for avoiding HIV. As another
educator told me, "I hate abstinence-only education more than anything. Seriously. But...
here, I think it's a necessary ingredient." Is it responsible for me to avoid promoting
abstinence? Even if marketing abstinence means that to some extent, I'll have to tell
people sexual exploration isn't worth doing?
I'm still feeling out my approach, but... what if the most effective way to fight HIV is to
align myself with values antithetical to free sexuality? Does properly doing my job
require me to promote a sex-negative agenda? Surely not. Surely there are ways to
promote sex-positive abstinence -- perhaps a "Vibrators for African Women" program...?
(This is a joke. Mostly.)
And that's just one facet of the broader question keeping me awake at night! Which is:
given a fatal, incurable sexually transmitted infection; given a population where, in some
groups, up to 40% test positive; given a society in which culturally appropriate messages
emphatically do not include my pro-sex, pro-queer, pro-kink approach to sex education...
what does being a sex-positive educator mean?
Maybe I can harvest clues from my own feelings, past and present, about abstinence:
clues for how to promote it compassionately, effectively and responsibly; clues for
locating my boundaries when I talk about it. And maybe I can harvest down-to-earth
advice from my relationship with Mr. Chastity, too. I can work from toxic masculine
norms he's had such trouble with, and examine how men in southern Africa might
likewise worry about abstinence -- if you think American men have tough definitions of
sexual manliness to contend with, then try living in a place where the big men have
multiple wives and over a dozen children. I also think it'll be hot to be bound against
going "too far." Maybe I can learn how abstinence is fun, fun, fun!
Hey, at the very least, it'll give me a taste of what I'm telling everyone else to do.
* * *
The original version of this article can be found on the Internet, but please note that I've
done some editing for clarity. Here's the original:
http://carnalnation.com/content/45211/1133/sexual-abcs-africa-part-1-abstinence
* * *
* * *
* * *
EDUCATION:
[theory] Sexual ABCs in Africa, Part 2: Be Faithful
This is the second in the three-part "Sexual ABCs" series, but I originally intended it to
be the last one, because it's the most complicated by far.
* * *
Sexual ABCs in Africa, Part 2: Be Faithful
South African President Jacob Zuma has three wives; in a headline-making ceremony, a
South African businessman recently married four women at once. King Mswati of
Swaziland has thirteen wives, and his father King Sobhuza had 70. (Yes. Seventy.) Here
in southern Africa, even those rich men who don't take multiple wives almost always
support mistresses. Naturally, local women don't get multiple spouses, and the social
penalties for infidelity are much worse for women. In America, feminists often point out
that "slut" is an insult while "stud" is a compliment; there's a similar linguistic trend in
siZulu, but the English words are mild compared to their siZulu equivalents.
* * *
I rarely practice consensual non-monogamy myself, but I don't hesitate to advocate
destigmatizing polyamory and swing in America. True, my primary interest is BDSM,
but there's so much to learn from every form of consensual sexuality. Plus, we're
basically on the same side -- it'd be great if different sex subcultures had more
consciousness of a sex-positive "agenda" or "movement"! Although our communities
have different emphases and, sometimes, profoundly different values, I see swingers and
polyfolk as my brothers- and sisters-in-arms.
But enough of the soapbox! The point is that I've often defended poly -- and I've gotten
into interesting arguments doing so. One friend noted just how hard it is for poly people
to negotiate their relationships. "It's so complicated," he complained. "So much
communication is required. Doesn't that seem like an argument against it? If polyamory
were really a good relationship model, then people wouldn't have to put so much effort
into accomplishing it."
"It's only complicated because polyamory isn't our societal default," I replied. "People
have to put extra effort into negotiating relationships that fall outside the norm. The same
thing happens with BDSM. Kinksters must spend a lot more time discussing our sexual
relationships, because it's more dangerous for us to make assumptions about where our
partners want to go. That doesn't mean there's anything wrong with kink.
"And," I added, "that extra effort can be a feature, not a bug! The fact that kinksters spend
so much time isolating different aspects of our sexuality has given us a uniquely finegrained
sexual vocabulary. I think most kinksters tend to make fewer assumptions about
our partners' boundaries than vanilla people do. And circumstances have forced us to
develop some brilliant strategies for bedroom communication. I'm not saying we're all
brilliant communicators, but I think we've got a unique window on it. When I run sexual
communication workshops, half the tactics I share are filched from the BDSM
subculture; I just rename them for a general audience. Many polyfolk have similar
insights about relationship communication."
Being in southern Africa, seeing all these men partnered with multiple women, has
brought that conversation to mind. Because the majority of men can't afford multiple
wives and some churches frown on the practice, polygyny isn't exactly the default -- but
it's certainly a well-respected, highly desirable relationship formation. (Polygyny is the
most precise term for the type of polygamy that's practiced here, where men can have
multiple wives but women can't have multiple husbands. However, a lot of Africans
simply call it "polygamy.")
And men who can't go the open route frequently do the same thing discreetly. In the July
2009 issue of New African Magazine, Akua Djanie -- who moved to England at age 10
and grew up there -- observes: "I know very few African men, especially those living on
the continent, who keep only one partner. The majority of men I come across are in
multiple relationships, sometimes open, but most times on the quiet." She also notes that
"in some instances, a man's manhood is judged by the number of women he can keep."
So monogamy is not the default; and negotiating monogamy is difficult, here. But a new
factor makes it a matter of life and death: HIV.
* * *
The basic centerpiece of HIV prevention is ABC -- Abstinence, Being faithful, and using
Condoms. But the three strategies haven't always received equal airtime. "The Fidelity
Fix," a 2004 New York Times Magazine article by Helen Epstein, quoted one analyst who
believed "partner reduction has been the neglected middle child of the ABC approach."
Epstein wrote, "Perhaps the topic seems weighted with moral judgment; perhaps Western
advisors in particular feel it would be insensitive to raise it; perhaps they also feel it
would be futile to try to change deeply rooted patterns of behavior." She outlined those
patterns and concluded, "A fidelity campaign does seem worth a try, even if it might
seem overly simplistic and preachy." Another expert, quoted in a 2007 Washington Post
piece on multiple partners in Botswana, agreed: "There has never been equal emphasis on
'Don't have many partners'.... If you just say, 'Use the condom'... we will never see the
daylight of the virus leaving us."
Living in southern Africa now, it seems clear that this recommendation has been taken to
heart. I regularly spot posters, stickers and billboards for fidelity campaigns that
apparently didn't exist a few years ago. Although cultural pride is a big deal here, locals
routinely disparage risky marriage-related cultural practices: for instance, many speak
harshly against wife inheritance, whereby a woman whose husband has died is
traditionally expected to marry his brother. Many such practices are becoming more and
more unusual. However, the larger phenomenon of polygyny seems harder to budge.
I recently sat in on a partner reduction dialogue for one town's church leaders; it was
attended by representatives both from churches that allow polygamous marriages, and
those that don't. The discussion was quite civil, though one anti-polygamy preacher did
make snide comments towards the polygamists. They talked about issues like an absence
of marriage counseling, preachers' failure to act as positive role models, and churches'
failure to be transparent about HIV. (The all-male group also noted "women's selfish
impatience with erectile dysfunction," "women preferring men who last longer," "women
preferring men with a lot of money," and "women not loving their husbands enough" as
contributing factors to fidelity failure.) The group seemed pleased to work together, and
eager to address the problem. The question of members being pro- or anti-polygamy was,
apparently, only a side note.
As it happens, there are plenty of polygamy problems that have nothing to do with
HIV/AIDS. These divisions would exist without the disease. For instance, some
preachers who don't support polygamy will sanction divorce and remarriage. One man
told me that "true" polygamous marriage -- in which a man has many wives, all supported
simultaneously -- is slowly being replaced: rich men now often take younger wives, but
divorce and cast aside the previous wives first. The "new" approach looks suspiciously
like the Western model of "serial monogamy"... except that the women, left with few
resources, rarely marry again. (The gender inequality is highlighted when only one
partner has HIV: an HIV-positive man will likely be nursed by his wife, while HIVpositive
women can fear anything from abuse to abandonment.) Partly because
abandonment is getting so common and partly due to doctrinal interpretations, there is yet
a third group of church leaders who not only reject polygamy but refuse to remarry
divorced people.
Most interestingly, I've noticed that from some perspectives, the current system appears
to stack the moral deck in favor of polygyny. A lot of the time, people will claim that
there are only three alternatives: (1) abandonment and/or deadbeat fatherhood, (2)
cheating, or (3) overt polygyny. If those are the alternatives, then even empowered
women will argue in favor of polygyny -- though not happily, since they're quite
conscious that a system supporting polygamy without polyandry is completely unfair.
For example, in the aforementioned July 2009 New African piece, titled "The Sins of Our
Fathers," Akua Djanie reflects bitterly upon a father who ignored her mother in favor of
his second wife. She writes that she "will encourage [her sons] to have a relationship with
only one woman at a time. And if they make the mistake of having children from
different women, I will make sure they are responsible for each and every one of them."
Then, however, she asserts that "although I myself would never wish to be in such a
[polygamous] relationship, I think it can work, does work, and has worked in the past";
that "the issue is not so much with the pros and cons of polygamy, but more with the
irresponsible behavior of some men"; and that "African men are still as polygamous as
they were in my father's heyday. In fact I believe that polygamy will never go away."
Djanie doesn't mention HIV once.
(It's worth noting that Djanie is very aware of Western cultural imperialism; she loathes
and deconstructs those who downgrade African culture in favor of Western. For instance,
her November 2009 New African piece was about how frustrating it is that Africans
usually model Christmas on Western standards, showing images of white children
frolicking in Alpine snow. Thus, her argument against polygamy is especially striking.)
Recently, I spoke to some grassroots HIV educators who go door-to-door in their rural
villages. They keep a list of different prevention tactics that they discuss with their
neighbors. Glancing through, I saw both Zero Grazing and Be Faithful side-by-side. "I
don't understand the difference between these two," I said, prompting the educators to
confer amongst themselves in siZulu. Finally, one offered, "Be Faithful is about
monogamy with one partner. Zero Grazing is about having multiple wives and not going
outside the marriage." The others seemed to agree. Given their limited English and my
limited siZulu, I decided not to ask: "Does promoting both strike you as a mixed
message?" (I did ask whether they think people listen to their advice. In response, they
just looked depressed.)
Clearly, the fidelity fix has arrived. What's harder to determine is how much, and in what
manner, the message is being emphasized -- not to mention, whether it's actually taking
root.
* * *
Given my experience with polyamory, and my nigh-rabid promotion of straightforward
communication as the Cure For All Ills, I can't help wondering: would it help to port
communication tactics from our polyamorous allies over to southern Africa? But
polyamory is fundamentally different from polygyny. Polyamory assumes that both
partners have equal footing -- equal negotiating status -- whereas polygyny assumes that
men are entitled to privileges women aren't. Would it be possible to take the lessons of
even-handed polyamory, and apply them to polygyny?
What if I choose not to address polygyny -- to avoid the whole culturally fraught debate,
and just create relationship communication workshops inspired by polyamorous (and
BDSM) analysis? (That way, with no one alienated by an overt stance, I may reach the
audience better anyway.) Will it work if I teach from a perspective of assumed gender
equality? My instinct is "yes"; I've even found a heartening example! The well-known
South African Pastor Agrippa Khathide preaches equality for women and sexual pleasure
for everyone (as long as they're married first, of course). He gives explicit sermons
including technical sexual advice, and has been quoted in interviews asserting things like:
"married people should be totally free to express themselves any way they wish in the
bedroom," that "they must be willing to experiment, explore and explicitly acknowledge
the giving and receiving of pleasure," and that women are entitled to "enjoyment of sex
like men."
If he can do that, surely I can do something similar! Surely, then, my inherent egalitarian
assumptions would make a positive impact, even if I say nothing direct about irritating
male entitlement. Yet I worry that if I focus on relationship communication and don't
directly take on the monogamy juggernaut, I will sidestep the heart of these debates.
Indeed, not only might I be sidestepping -- I might be turning my gaze from the very
place I ought to focus.
* * *
Perhaps the hardest part about wrapping my head around a fidelity campaign isn't
whether certain tactics are appropriate or inappropriate, effective or ineffective. It's that
they can be both, or neither -- and while culture matters, it varies by individual. More to
the point, while culture affects attitudes towards Abstinence and Condoms, there aren't
many ways to interpret the implementation of those two dicta.
The people who live here themselves are divided about what fidelity means. Be Faithful,
or Zero Grazing? Multiple wives, or divorce and remarriage? They themselves are
working towards gender equality, but have just as many arguments about its
implementation as Westerners do. They themselves are proud of their culture, and yet
there's one anti-HIV slogan that always leaps out at me when I spot it among the myriad
of posters and stickers:
There is nothing cultural about dying of AIDS.
* * *
The original version of this article can be found on the Internet, but please note that I've
done some editing for clarity. Here's the original:
http://carnalnation.com/content/45680/1133/sexual-abcs-africa-part-2-be-faithful
* * *
* * *
* * *
EDUCATION:
[theory] Sexual ABCs in Africa, Part 3: Condoms
This article followed the previous two articles, published at CarnalNation.com in
January 2010. I think a lot of people would like to believe that Africans are "different
from us" and that's why HIV has had such an impact in Africa. And it's accurate to say
that certain cultural patterns influence the spread of HIV, as I described in the previous
piece, "Be Faithful."
But the truth is, also, that people are similar everywhere: we respond to certain
incentives, and sexuality is one of our most powerful incentives. The terrifying truth is
that Africans are not especially different from us... and given the right circumstances, the
West can and will be equally vulnerable to this awful epidemic. And as I learned more
and then came home, I began to see just how vulnerable we are. There are poor,
marginalized areas of the USA where HIV is reaching the same proportions that it has
reached in Africa. And even among privileged young Americans, HIV rates have been
rising for the first time in years.
* * *
Sexual ABCs in Africa, Part 3: Condoms
In America, the common argument against explicit sex education -- and promoting
condom use in schools -- is that it will encourage kids to be promiscuous. The idea is that
if we portray it as normal for kids to be having sex and tell them how to do it safely,
they'll be more likely to go and have sex. As for the kids who'll have sex anyway... well,
they're sinning and don't deserve to know what they're doing.
Some things don't change, even across oceans. I occasionally hear the same arguments
against promoting condom use in southern Africa. But here, HIV is ripping the populace
to pieces, and it's much harder to speak against condoms when funeral processions wind
through your neighborhood every weekend. Occasional religious educators claim that
promoting condom usage waters down their message and therefore makes anti-HIV
education less effective; but most churches I've encountered take a pragmatic, condompromoting
approach. Indeed, one of the best HIV curricula I've seen so far is the
"Channels of Hope" workshop, created by the Christian organization World Vision and
designed to train church groups. It not only promotes explicit condom education, but
urges compassion towards sex workers and homosexuals. And it discusses why marital
rape isn't okay! I'd venture to say that the majority of liberal, secular sex education
curricula in the USA aren't as awesome.
Just the other day, I was surveying a bunch of kids aged 11-13 and they asked how to put
on a condom. Cursing myself silently, I had to admit that I didn't have any to show
them... at which point one child dashed from the room and returned minutes later bearing
both a condom, plus a rather splintery stick from a firewood pile. Condom distribution is
in full swing; I can think of three places to pick up free condoms within a ten-minute
walk from where I'm seated. Condoms are described in kids' textbooks, and condom
demonstrations are welcome in every school. Condoms are lauded by politicians, pop
icons, and religious leaders. Take any person off the street and they'll know the HIVprevention
mantra: ABC -- Abstain, Be faithful, use Condoms. Yet condom usage rates
are still killingly low.
* * *
Though I'm fishbelly-pale, I'm not great at wearing sunscreen, and I live in Africa. I try...
I mean, I kinda try... I mean it's so annoying to apply, and it feels gross! And this
notwithstanding the fact that I literally have ten bottles of top-quality, non-sticky, oil-free
sunscreen sitting across the room from me as I type this. On the other hand, I religiously
take my malaria prophylactic pill; I've noticed no side effects, and getting malaria would
really suck.
I recall one recurring conversation between myself and a former boyfriend, whom I dated
for years. We'd both had excellent sex education, and yet we used withdrawal as our
primary birth-control method. We did it even though we both had boxes of condoms
available. We did it even though neither of us wanted me to get pregnant, and -- though
I'm definitely pro-choice -- I wasn't sure I could bring myself to have an abortion. We'd
both been tested, and we trusted each other not to cheat, but that's some dangerous trust
to extend -- and we knew it.
One particular moment comes to mind: we were lying lazily in bed together, talking
about how stupid we were.
"We should be more careful," he said seriously.
"We really should," I agreed.
"Let's be more careful," he suggested.
I nodded.
We weren't.
Were we stupid? Obviously. Were we normal? Unfortunately, yes. A few months ago, I
chatted with another American HIV educator about the situation here in Africa. "They
know to use condoms," she complained, "and they have the condoms! I just don't get it!"
"I agree that it's incomprehensible," I said, "but hey, I haven't always been 100% careful,
and I'm a sex educator."
She glanced at me, then away. "Yeah, I haven't either," she admitted. There was a gloomy
pause, and then we couldn't help it -- we cracked up. "I hate love," she said when the
giggles subsided. She shook her head. "That shit fucks with you."
Why didn't I use condoms with that ex? I still don't know! When you instruct people to
use condoms as often as I do, you get accustomed to the arguments. I hear the same
reasons we didn't use condoms -- because they don't feel as good, because they interrupt
the moment, etc. etc. etc. -- I hear them, I smile and I tell the audience, "You gotta use
'em anyway, folks." I'm a hypocrite, but what else can I say?
And there are deeper-rooted objections to condoms -- objections that are both rarely
stated in public, and harder to confront. One is trust, which I've been struggling with for a
long time, since before I got to Africa. I don't think it's good for condom discussions to
center on trust, and I wish I had more ideas about how to refocus them. "Use condoms
because you can't trust anyone, not even your lover," is an ugly message to impart.
Moreover, it only encourages the audience to view not using condoms as a gift, or a
signifier of trust.
In America, I tend to cast it like this: "Safer sex is normal. It's the baseline. Lots of people
practice it. It's an assumption. Act like it." Which, I hope, helps people simply default to
safer sex without forcing direct questions about any given partner's integrity. Hopefully,
it also distracts attention from seeing discarding condoms as a gift. But the truth is that
condom usage isn't always an assumption even in America (witness myself and my ex).
And it's less of an assumption here in Africa. How can I avoid validating the viewpoint
that not using condoms is the best way to express trust?
The second deep-rooted objection -- again, both in Africa and America -- is inability to
maintain an erection while using a condom. When I was younger, I used to think that
guys were just whining when they claimed they couldn't keep it up with a condom, but in
my old age I've determined that People Are Different (no way!): while most men deal
with condoms just fine, some men genuinely can't. Since people tend to be bad at
communicating about sex and especially bad at making space for conversations about
non-normative male sexuality, this isn't often acknowledged. Fortunately, the solution is
easy: men who have trouble with condomised penis-in-vagina sex gain a glorious
opportunity to explore all the other kinds of sex!
People tend to panic when confronted with the idea of a man who can't have penetrative
sex. But that's sex-negative nonsense based entirely on the stereotype of "real sex" as
penis-in-vagina intercourse. The solution to loss of erection isn't to sit around awkwardly
wishing you could be having penetrative sex. The solution is for both partners to start
exploring with mouths, hands... and words. But teaching about this means speaking very
explicitly, and it can be hard to have those conversations in a conservative society
without being run out of town.
* * *
In the Strange Case of Clarisse and Her Condomless Ex, I was at least Being Faithful
with a pre-tested partner, and I didn't live in an HIV-rich population. The risks were
lower, and it's true that I've never run those kinds of risks outside a long-term
monogamous relationship. But the bottom line remains: my ex and I did it even though
we knew better.
He and I are both privileged people. Neither of us was dependent on the other for money,
for instance. If two highly privileged people who agree that condoms are necessary can
fail to use condoms, what about people who don't have that privilege?
In many places across the world, including much of southern Africa, sex workers can
charge double for sex without a condom. No businesswoman is likely to insist on a
measure that will halve her profits -- especially if she already lives on a razor-fine
margin, and especially if she's already contracted HIV herself. Likewise, if a girl can't
afford expensive school fees and therefore sleeps with her teachers, then she's hardly in a
position to demand protection. Many married women quite justifiably fear divorce,
violence or murder if they refuse their husbands sex without a condom -- in one recent
case, a wife tested negative for HIV while her husband tested positive, but when she tried
to refuse condomless sex, he killed her.
Some pro-condom campaigns tell the populace that "it's your responsibility: you must
respect your body and take the initiative"; but while that works for some people, it's a
terribly cruel message for people who lack the standing to negotiate with their partners.
Add to this the fact that, if you know enough people living with HIV -- and if your life
already seems difficult and directionless -- the disease will start to seem like much less of
a big deal. A friend reports that one day, sitting in a salon, she saw a man exit with a sex
worker. "Don't forget a condom!" she called bluntly. His reply: "I'm not the first to get it,
and I won't be the last." (Indeed, there are documented cases of marginal populations
deliberately contracting HIV when they perceived benefits. For instance, when HIVpositive
illegal immigrants in France were offered citizenship as part of a humanitarian
initiative, some sought out the disease.)
People who ignore prophylactics will always be with us. Some of them will be like me
and my ex, or the sex worker's client: despite knowing the risk, transient pleasure trumps
absolute safety. There isn't much to be done about that demographic, save ensuring that
they (we) truly grasp the consequences we risk with our silliness.
Some people, however, will be vulnerable more because they're female, or young, or
poor. In those cases, addressing the root causes -- sexism, poverty, abuse -- becomes the
only solution. Thus, some of the best HIV programs in southern Africa appear to address
completely different issues. These include:
* Identifying and supporting income-generating projects for women, so that they have the
resources to walk away from abusive partners;
* Sponsoring schools, so that they can educate for free and remove one reason a
schoolchild might sleep with a teacher;
* Facilitating support groups, so members can share tactics for negotiating safer sex (or,
if already HIV-positive, help each other cope with obligations and treatment regimens);
* Creating strong communities, so people are quite simply more motivated to live.
* * *
It's always tempting to see unfamiliar cultures as monolithic, but we must remind
ourselves that they never are. Every society in the world contains its own divides, just
like America's culture and subcultures. Because HIV/AIDS functions along the very
taboo, very culturally-influenced axis of sexuality, it throws taboo cultural sexual divides
into high relief.
In America, one thing the disease's advent served to highlight was stigma towards
LGBTQ and other radical sexual subcultures. American HIV mitigation has often sought
to redress that stigma. Here, one thing it serves to highlight -- one thing mitigation seeks
to redress -- is mainstream gender and relationship issues. But these splits existed before
HIV came along. Although the prevalence of HIV sheds light on and invokes compassion
for these divisions, they're more enduring than we like to think.
Still, I can't help noticing the phoenixes arising from these ashes. Firstly, it turns out that
the best way to shut down sex-negative arguments against explicit sex education is to
invoke the specter of HIV. One 2008 report from a well-respected local organization
argued that AIDS prevention efforts should include straightforward lessons on
pleasurable acts, such as oral sex or sex toy usage! (Obviously, I hope to work with this
organization.)
A 2004 New York Times Magazine article on HIV in southern Africa made the case that
while "many experts contend that sexual-behavior change in Africa is complicated
because women's fear of abusive partners inhibits private discussions of sex, condom use
and HIV," the crisis also contributes to a better environment for those discussions. One
researcher is quoted pointing out that, "young South Africans are much more likely to
talk about sex and are developing 'a vocabulary for discussing feelings and desires.'"
Furthermore, southern African movements for women's empowerment invariably cite
HIV as a reason change is necessary now. Because gender oppression is acknowledged as
a driver of the epidemic, gender equality is an explicit goal of both governments and
major HIV organizations. Even admirably reasonable laws about sex work are being
discussed -- considerably more reasonable than most Western sex work legislation. The
laws probably won't pass, unfortunately, but at least they're on the radar.
I've got a twisted confession to make. On days when I feel particularly flippant, I find
myself thinking: Thank God for HIV/AIDS! Without HIV... would women's
empowerment be such a given? Aside from bleeding heart feminists like myself, who
would care about sex workers' conditions? Aside from sex-positive nuts like myself, who
would advocate for explicit sex education?
Here's hoping we can create better social conditions to arrest the pandemic... and keep
those conditions going afterwards.
* * *
The original version of this article can be found on the Internet, but please note that I've
done some editing for clarity. Here's the original:
http://carnalnation.com/content/46266/1133/sexual-abcs-africa-part-3-condoms
* * *
* * *
* * *
ACTIVISM:
[theory] Colonized Libidos
This article was published at CarnalNation.com in early 2010. Anti-oppression theory
sure can get out of touch with reality.
* * *
Colonized Libidos
The situation for gay / lesbian rights here in Africa has gotten lots of media attention
lately, and I myself have written about meeting a Swazi lesbian activist who was later
murdered. So I won't waste your time by talking about how bad it can get to be gay here
(although it's worth noting that I've seen at least one interesting argument about how the
places in Africa where homosexuality is most heavily punished are also the ones with the
strongest national dialogue, and thus arguably some of the best ones to actually be gay).
Besides, I've become somewhat numb to the situation's sheer awfulness since arriving last
year. What catches my attention these days is unfamiliar cultural angles and arguments.
While reading the local paper, I recently came upon yet another gay-shaming article --
but instead of railing about God's will, the article talked about cultural imperialism.
Specifically, it argued that gays and lesbians are gay and lesbian only because of the
West. Gays and lesbians, the theory goes, have been so influenced by the Sodom and
Gomorrah that is the West that they've internalized our permissive, scandalous sexual
mores. (Those of us who actually come from the West are, of course, a little confused by
how our fractured native cultures -- still fiercely arguing about homosexuality within
themselves -- might create such an influence.) An African proud of his or her
Africanness, who rejects the colonial West, will therefore not only wear African
traditional garb and participate in African traditional ceremonies but will also be straight.
(Ironically, some historians have pointed out that much of Africa was much less
homophobic before Western missionaries came in.)
I got a front-line view of this attitude when I took a newspaper to the Post Office for
photocopying. "Another article about lesbians!" snorted the postmaster -- they're getting
to know me around there. He took the papers from me and shuffled through my requested
pages. "Is it true," he asked, "that President Obama supports lesbians?"
"Yes," I said.
He looked shocked; I wondered if he'd expected me to say no. "What?!" he cried, and
took a moment to regain his composure. "Well, that's American culture," he said finally.
"It's not African culture."
I took a deep breath and pressed my lips together. I'd be in big trouble with my employer
if I kicked up a storm at the Post Office, but oh, man -- in that moment, I really, really
wanted to. "How much do I owe you?" I asked instead, and went home to lose myself in
a nice sex-positive book.
Personally, what I find most intriguing about these assertions of cultural imperialism is
how they compare to similar assertions in the West. I'm a kinkster and pro-BDSM
activist, but I'm also a feminist, which can make for some serious anxiety. A lot of my
coming-out process involved both a difficult internal struggle and my observations of
arguments between kinksters and anti-BDSM feminists, who often make very similar
allegations to these African speakers on "cultural imperialism."
The very articulate BDSM blogger Trinity (who, of late, has sadly decreased her
involvement in the blogosphere) has spent lots of time analyzing and participating in
those arguments. One of my favorite Trinity posts, titled "Why BDSM?", hosts a radical
feminist commenter who writes:
If we lived in a healthy society, the idea of BDSM would not even come up in the first
place. BDSM is here, as a manifestation of that unhealthiness, but to try to 'stop' the
people who aren't being coerced into it would do more harm than the thing itself....
I am not saying tolerance of BDSM directly causes our sick society, but that it is a very
strong symptom of a society were hierarchy, inequality and degradation are seen as the
norm of human relations. Accepting BDSM is accepting this status quo. ... by challenging
all inequality, including that in BDSM, we are putting forward the idea that other
possibilities are available.
In other words: the Patriarchy made me kinky, and if I don't challenge kink then I'm
supporting the Patriarchy. I would imagine that Africans pushing the cultural imperialism
argument would say something similar: Western colonial influence made you gay, and if
you don't challenge homosexuality then you're supporting Western colonial influence.
Well, "with us or against us" arguments are inherently flawed. And then there's the fact
that, similarly to homosexuals, many of us kinksters consider our desires to be innate and
largely unchangeable. So if our desires can't be changed, then what exactly is
accomplished by shaming us through anti-oppressive theory-speak? (And make no
mistake -- for those of us who take the theory seriously, it really does feel shameful to
find others telling us we're in opposition, even within the private sphere of sexuality.) I'm
not remotely convinced that our sexuality arose solely because of an oppressive society --
but even if it's true, then what am I, or African gay people, supposed to actually do in
order to challenge the sick status quo? Give up on our desires and never have satisfying
sex again?
I tend to think that the idea of sexual orientations or innateness is a red herring -- not
because I believe that innateness doesn't exist, but because it's not actually relevant to
sexual morality. What should be important is only the question of whether all involved
sexual partners are consenting adults, not whether their desires are innate. Alas, it's clear
that across the world, people who are instinctively grossed out by alternative sexuality
will always find ways to reframe the question into how our acts are just plain wrong and
our consent is irrelevant -- and that's as true of some feminists and cultural loyalists as it
is of Bible-thumpers.
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://carnalnation.com/content/51544/1133/colonized-libidos
* * *
* * *
* * *
VEGAN:
[theory] Confections of a Pickup Artist Chaser
I've been vegetarian since 2009 and vegan since 2011; I wrote this in 2012.
* * *
Confections of a Pickup Artist Chaser
There are delicious recipes at the end! Read this article for the recipes!
I feel hyper-aware that this piece may alienate some readers, because it's a post about
being vegan, i.e. not eating animal products. Lot of folks are touchy about that. So, I want
to do some pre-emptive damage control: I want to clarify up front that I have no interest
in calling anyone an asshole. If you're not vegan, then I want to try and change your
mind... but I don't think you're an Incontrovertibly Bad Person, and I hope we can still be
friends.
And, look, I'm not gonna pretend I'm perfect. I screw up all the time, on all kinds of
social justice issues, and I'll be learning for the rest of my life.
For me, the hardest thing about being vegan has nothing to do with the food, although I
think many foods made from animal products are delicious, and occasionally I have
trouble resisting them. For me, the hard part is all about social situations. If I'm at a social
event where non-vegan food is served and there are no other vegans, sometimes I just eat
it -- especially if it will Become A Big Social Problem if I don't eat it. I also sometimes
eat non-vegan food that's been rescued from the trash (some of us call this "freegan").
And occasionally, when I'm spending a lot of time with someone who's non-vegan, then
I'll sometimes break veganism in front of them in order to reassure them that I'm not
judging them. I have vegan friends who consider this an unacceptable level of
accommodation; sorry folks.
I am aware that stigmatizing, judging, and attacking non-vegans is one tactic for
convincing them to go vegan. Personally, I find it stressful and frequently
counterproductive. I'd rather set an example and be welcoming. (Yet I acknowledge that
it's possible I wouldn't be able to do this effectively if aggressive vegans did not exist.
Aggressive vegans help create the space where I get to look "reasonable" and
"welcoming." The blogger Kinsey Hope once wrote a really brilliant activist typology
that describes these dynamics. And of course, it's worth noting that I'm often
characterized as an appeaser by feminists, too.)
So. That said? If you think you're going to Get Upset Or Offended by this post, please
just don't read it. Seriously. But if you're willing to not freak out for a moment, then here
are my two primary arguments for why you should go vegan:
1. It's easy. Yes, there will be some shitty social situations: awkward moments at
restaurants, pushback from your non-vegan friends, and so on. Yes, you will have to
avoid some very delicious foods. And food labels will become a whole new world of
confusion. But even with all these factors, veganism really isn't as hard as people
make it out to be.
There's a lot of delicious vegan food out there. A number of my favorite foods were
vegan before I went vegan, and some of yours probably are as well. (Recipes coming up!)
Here is a free online vegan starter guide that includes recipes. Here is a very
comprehensive list of vegan cookbooks; they range from "easy" to "incredibly
complicated Martha-Stewart-land." I am a fiend for baked goods, and I like Vegan
Cupcakes Take Over The World by Isa Chandra Moskowitz and Terry Hope Romero.
And there's an increasing number of high-quality all-vegan restaurants. My favorite ones
in Chicago are Native Foods (delicious cardamom rose cupcakes!) and Urban Vegan
(delicious fake orange chicken!).
I won't get involved in appeals-to-healthitude, because I know both healthy vegans and
unhealthy vegans, and the science is inconclusive... but I will point that out again: the
science is inconclusive. Unless you have an unusual disorder, modern nutrition has
identified no conclusive scientific reasons for not being vegan. Plus: If you aren't
vegan, but you don't pay any attention to eating healthy food, then you're being a
hypocrite if you make a "health argument" for being non-vegan even if the science
was conclusive, which it's not. And! If you're really into health, there's a highlyrecommended
book called Thrive written by a vegan professional athlete named Brendan
Brazier.
Some of my friends specifically do things like convince people to try veganism for short
periods, or run Vegan Weeks at universities or whatever, just to show how (a) delicious
and (b) easy vegan food can be. It works surprisingly well. A key ingredient in my own
adoption of veganism was knowing vegans, and seeing how simple it was to be vegan. I
used to push back really strongly... I think I resisted mostly because it was very hard to
acknowledge that by eating animal products, I was participating in an incredibly fucked
up system. First I had to recognize that I was doing something really bad, that I had been
doing so for my entire life, and that most people I love do it too. This is a familiar
problem for activists, of course; most people resist acknowledging that they participate in
a racist, sexist culture, too. (As one of my vegan friends puts it: "I've found that people
usually go through the strongest asshole anti-vegan phase right before they convert to
veganism.")
Of all the social-justice acts out there, I actually think veganism is one of the lowesthanging
fruit. It's just so easy that the only reason non-vegan culture can possibly persist
is through a really high degree of not giving a shit. In a way, that's understandable; I don't
have much of a connection to animals myself. A lot of my vegan friends love animals and
want to be around them all the time; I don't. If a smelly dog never jumps on me again, it
will be too soon. But the fact is, animals have senses and feelings. Interacting with any
animal for longer than thirty seconds can conclusively show you that animals like and
dislike things, and that they feel something that looks exactly like pain. Which brings me
to....
2. If you care about consent, then veganism is transparently the right thing to do. There
are environmental arguments and stuff, but I mean, seriously, let's call a spade a spade:
when you eat meat, you're eating the murdered body of an animal who died for no reason
other than your transient pleasure. As for animal products: many things that happen to
animals on factory farms are abominable and obscene, as two minutes of Googling or this
website or this video can show you.
Even if you decide to eat animal products that come only from well-treated animals,
there's no way to be sure that those animals were actually well-treated unless you're
raising them yourself. As this vegan FAQ points out, there's an amazing amount of
animal suffering that still occurs on "humane" farms. (Salon has written about it, too.)
Some of those farms are doubtless fairly pleasant for the animals, but others.... Well, let's
just say that calling some "humane" farms more merciful than factory farms is like saying
that being burned alive is preferable to dying in a medieval torture device.
Personally, when I went vegan, a lot of the reason it felt easy was because I no longer had
to spend tons of mental energy suppressing my empathy. I was amazed at how relieved I
felt. Again, I'm not pretending to be perfect about it -- I eat non-vegan food sometimes in
social situations, sometimes when it's about to be thrown away, and sometimes just when
I'm drunk. If you need to make accommodations in order to feel comfortable being
vegan, then I'm the last person who will criticize you. I'll just be glad you're taking steps
towards being vegan.
It took me a long time to decide to go vegan, and I understand that it might take you a
long time, too. I've listed a lot of resources in this post and I hope you'll consider looking
at them. Questions are welcome in the comments, although I may not be able to answer
them. I wish you luck. And if you're already vegan, then congratulations and high-5!
Now for recipes!
I promise that these recipes are beloved by non-vegans as well as vegans. In fact, even
when I wasn't vegan, they were some of my favorites. When I feed these dishes to nonvegans,
they are frequently startled that the food isn't vegan. (Sometimes I save the Big
Reveal for last. Heh, heh.)
(One of my other favorite gentle pro-vegan tactics is to walk into restaurants and ask if
they have anything vegan on the menu. When the answer is no, I smile and thank them
and leave.)
Organic and fair-trade ingredients are obviously encouraged. I'm not as good about
organic and fair-trade as I could be, mostly because of expense, but I try to do it when I
can.
Kickass Vegan Chocolate Chip Cookies
This is a modified version of a recipe that I originally found here, and some of the text
comes from that recipe.
+ 1 and 1/2 cups of FLOUR
+ 1 teaspoon BAKING SODA
+ 1 teaspoon SALT
+ 3/4 cup of OIL
+ 2 tablespoons COCONUT MILK (or ALMOND MILK or SOY MILK)
+ 1 & 1/3 cups of UNREFINED SUGAR
+ HALF A BANANA
+ 1 1/2 tablespoons VANILLA EXTRACT (I've occasionally used RUM as a
replacement; when I do that, I like to add some CINNAMON)
+ 2 1/2 cups OATMEAL
+ 12 oz. of DARK CHOCOLATE CHIPS
Heat your oven to 350 degrees.
Mix FLOUR, BAKING SODA and SALT together. Set aside.
Mix together the OIL and SUGAR. Mix until creamy. Thoroughly mash the BANANA
into the mixture.
Add the COCONUT MILK.
Add the VANILLA.
Stir this mixture until it is a uniform color (this will not take long).
Slowly stir in the FLOUR mixture. Mix this well.
Stir in OATMEAL and CHOCOLATE-CHIPS.
Preheat oven to baking temperature (usually 350 F).
Place large tablespoons full of the batter onto an ungreased cookie sheet (an air filled
cookie sheet works best, as the air between the two layers of the sheet keeps the bottom
of baked items from burning).
Bake the cookies for about 9 to 13 minutes (ovens vary in temperature). Check them by
gently pressing on the top of one of the cookies. If the inside looks moist, but not too wet,
they are probably done. It might take you a couple of tries to get the time down, so bake
only a few at a time when starting out. Do not, I repeat, do not expect to see them turn
slightly brown when done cooking. Without real eggs, they will not get that dark. They
will, however, turn a golden tan.
When they are done, remove them from the oven and allow them to sit on the sheet for
about a minute or two before placing them on a wire rack. Be careful with them as they
tend to be quite delicate until they have cooled.
Kickass Chocolate Cake
I think I modified this recipe from an Internet source too, but I can't find it now.
+ 1 1/2 cups FLOUR
+ 1 cup SUGAR
+ 1/2 cup UNSWEETENED COCOA
+ 1 tablespoon GROUND CLOVES
+ 1 teaspoon BAKING SODA
+ 1 teaspoon CAYENNE PEPPER
+ 1/4 teaspoon SALT
+ 1 cup ALMOND MILK (or COLD WATER)
+ 1/4 cup OIL
+ 1 tablespoon BALSAMIC VINEGAR
+ 1 tablespoon VANILLA (once I replaced this with ORANGE EXTRACT and added
some CINNAMON, and the result was amazing)
Preheat oven to baking temperature.
In a bowl beat together the OIL, SUGAR, SALT, SPICES and COCOA until wellcombined.
Add the remaining ingredients, and stir until well-combined. Pour into a
greased enamel plate or cake dish and bake 20-30 minutes. Don't worry if the batter tastes
quite spicy -- it mellows out a lot, when you bake it so that the end result is more
chocolate with a spicy after-taste. Cool.
Then mix the following ingredients together, and pour the resultant icing on top:
+ 1 cup POWDERED SUGAR
+ 1/2 cup UNSWEETENED COCOA
+ 6 tablespoons COCONUT MILK (or ALMOND MILK or SOY MILK)
Tofu Tikka Masala
This is a modified recipe that originated with a friend.
+ 5 tablespoons OIL
+ 2 medium ONIONS, thinly sliced
+ 5 large GARLIC CLOVES, finely chopped
+ 2 BAY LEAVES
+ 1 inch fresh GINGER, finely chopped
+ 1/2 inch CINNAMON STICK
+ 4 CLOVES
+ 4 PEPPERCORNS
+ 1 CARDAMOM POD
+ 2 pounds TOFU
+ 1 tablespoon GROUND CORIANDER
+ 1 teaspoon GARAM MASALA
+ 1 teaspoon GROUND CUMIN
+ 1/2 teaspoon CAYENNE PEPPER
+ 1/2 teaspoon GROUND TURMERIC
+ 14 ounces CANNED TOMATOES
+ SALT to taste
+ 2/3 cup SOY YOGURT
Heat OIL in large, heavy-bottomed sauce pan.
Add ONIONS, GARLIC, GINGER, BAY LEAVES, and WHOLE SPICES; fry gently on
medium heat until sauteed.
Add the TOFU, and fry until the pieces are lightly golden brown on all sides. (Here are
some tips on frying tofu so it has a light crust.)
Stir in CORIANDER, GARAM MASALA, CUMIN, CAYENNE, TURMERIC,
TOMATOES, and SALT. Cook for a while (10 minutes works).
Add SOY YOGURT and cook for another while.
As a general rule, the longer you cook a spicy dish like this, the spicier it'll be.
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2012/05/14/food-justice-confections-of-a-pickup-artistchaser/
* * *
* * *
* * *
POLYAMORY:
[theory] In Praise of Monogamy
This post was published in mid-2011, and it got more attention than most things I've
written. The reaction was quite mixed. Some monogamists felt that I was damning
monogamy with faint praise. Some polyamorists felt that it was problematic for me to
write a post praising the culturally dominant Western mode of sexuality, because it's
already dominant. On the other hand, the piece was cross-posted at a number of highprofile
websites, and I got a lot of positive commentary too.
My favorite comments came from Pepper Mint, a polyamory advocate who commented
on this post when it was cross-posted at Feministe. I really felt like Pepper got what I
was trying to do. Here's an excerpt from one of his comments:
"Monogamy is [perceived as] a hegemonic requirement, not an option that should be
advocated. So when people espouse monogamy (which is rare, since it is hegemonic),
they do it by claiming that anything else is impossible or they do it by making moral
statements. I challenge you to find a mainstream article that actually lists out the
pragmatic benefits of monogamy, like Clarisse has done here. I don't think I've ever seen
one. Indeed, when monogamy is explicitly discussed in the mainstream currently, it often
seems to be in 'is monogamy realistic?' articles.
"Note that this is all to the detriment of monogamous people as well as nonmonogamous
people. When I talk to people about polyamory, I get a lot of defensive responses, for the
simple reason that monogamous people are often monogamous because they did not
know there was a choice, rather than monogamous by inclination or what have you.
Discourse that presents monogamy as an actual choice and lists out the pros and cons of
that choice is nonmonogamy-affirming in my book, unless it is hugely one-sided.
"We have a problem in the poly communities I engage in, where people new to
polyamory spend a couple years unfairly trashing monogamy. This is partly out of anger
from their history and partly because they've finally found what they are looking for and
everything else looks shabby in comparison. But it creates ill-will where none need exist,
it screws up people's approach to relationships, and it bites people later if they want to
go back to monogamy.
"So as a polyamory activist I'm very glad this essay was written, and I've posted similar
things myself in various forums. It addresses a hole in the discourse that is very
important to fill."
Thanks, Pepper.
* * *
In Praise of Monogamy
There are lots of different ways of approaching non-monogamous relationships, such as:
+ Polyamory: Usually emphasizes developing full-on romantic relationships with more
than one partner. (I've been researching polyamory since my teens, but only in recent
years did I decide to actively pursue it.)
+ Swinging: Usually emphasizes couples with their own close bond, who have relatively
casual sex with other partners. (Another difference between swinging and polyamory is
that swingers tend to be more at home in mainstream culture, whereas polyamorists tend
to be geeky or otherwise "alternative." The blog Polyamory In The News has a great, long
piece on poly culture vs. swing culture.)
+ Cheating: One partner does something with an outside partner that wasn't accepted or
understood in advance. In monogamous relationships, cheating usually involves having
sex with an outside partner. Cheating exists in polyamorous or swing relationships as
well: for example, a person might cheat on a non-monogamous partner by breaking an
agreement -- an agreement such as "we don't have unprotected sex with other partners."
Just in case it needs to be said: I never advocate cheating, ever. As for the first two, I
know both poly people and swingers that I consider totally decent and wonderful folks! I
have more personal experience with and interest in polyamory, though.
Yet one thing that often gets lost in conversations about all these options is the
advantages of monogamy. Of which there are many. Although I don't currently identify
as monogamous, I had a very strong monogamous preference for years. I knew that
polyamory existed, and I thought about it a lot, because it's interesting -- but I just didn't
feel like it was for me. (In fact, my most adamantly polyamorous friend used to call me
his "reasonable monogamous friend." He said I had examined polyamory enough to
reasonably reject it, whereas he felt most people never consider polyamory deeply
enough to have a thoughtful opinion.)
And lately lots of my monogamous friends have been getting married. So I've been
thinking about the positive aspects of their relationship choices as I dance at their
weddings, devour mini-quiches, flirt with their brothers and try to avoid offending their
parents. (Okay, I've actually only flirted with one brother. So far.)
A Few Advantages of Monogamy (this is not a complete list)
+ Jealousy management. Some people experience jealousy more than, or less than, or
differently from other people. Plenty of people in non-monogamous relationships
experience jealousy -- and plenty of non-monogamous people handle it just fine, through
open-hearted communication. (Often, jealousy is managed through very detailed
relationship agreements such as a "relationship contract.")
But there are also plenty of people who appear to lack the "jealousy chip."
And then there are plenty of people who experience so much jealousy, who feel that
jealousy is such a big part of their emotional makeup, that the best way to manage it is
simply through monogamy.
Personally, I used to get a lot more jealous than I do now. I think I'm less likely to get
jealous these days partly because I've gotten better at finding low-drama men. Jealousy
has a reputation for being an irrational emotion, and sometimes it genuinely is an
unreasonable, cruel power-grab. But I think jealousy is often quite rational, and often
arises in response to a genuine emotional threat... or deliberate manipulation.
There's another reason, though... I've also noticed that some switch in my brain has
flipped, and I've started to eroticize jealousy. I occasionally find myself fantasizing about
men I care about sleeping with other women, and sometimes the fantasy is hot because I
feel mildly jealous. I cannot explain how this happened. It surprised me the first time it
happened, believe me. What's really fascinating is that I think the same part of me that
eroticizes jealousy, is the part that used to make me feel sick at the thought of my partner
sleeping with someone else. Masochism: the gift that never stops giving!
I think it's important to note here that I didn't become less jealous because I felt like I
"should", or because I was told not to be jealous. In fact, I had an early boyfriend who
acted like I was a hysterical bitch every time I got jealous... and he made things much
worse. With him, I just felt awful when I got jealous; I couldn't get past it. I felt like he
was judging me for something I couldn't help; I felt like my mind was fragmenting as I
tried to force myself to "think better" without any outside support; and worst of all, I felt
like I couldn't rely on him to respect my feelings.
It was the men who treated my emotions like they were reasonable and understandable
who decreased my jealousy. It's much harder to be jealous when your partner is saying, "I
totally understand," than it is when your partner is saying, "What the hell is the matter
with you?" Maybe that's what makes monogamy such an effective jealousy-management
tactic: monogamy can be like a great big sign or sticker or button you can give to your
partner that says, "I respect your jealousy." Which is not to say that monogamy is always
effective for this -- we all know that monogamous people get jealous all the time! (Which
only adds to my point that monogamy might be viewed as just one of many tactics, rather
than an answer, when jealousy is a problem.)
+ Focus. There's an oft-repeated joke among polyamorists that "while love may be
infinite, time is not." And sometimes, I've found it a little difficult to "switch gears" to a
different partner. New Relationship Energy can be a little harder to manage in the
polyamorous context than it is in serial monogamy.
I've heard of polyamorous couples who specifically take periods of monogamy when one
partner really wants one. This seems like it could be problematic -- for example, if my
hypothetical primary partner wanted a period of monogamy, and I had a secondary
partner (or partners) with a serious emotional connection, then I probably would not be
cool with straight-up ignoring my secondary for weeks or months. There'd have to be
more of a conversation about it. But regardless, this whole line of thinking makes an
interesting showcase of how sometimes, people feel like they just have to focus on one
relationship.
Personally, I'm quite interested in S&M games of orgasm denial, though I've never had a
chance to mess around with it as much as I'd like. I'm also interested in long-term lust
management strategies like karezza, where the partners involved choose not to have
orgasms -- instead, they maintain a low level of mutual arousal at all times. I have no
moral problem with my partners looking at porn or having orgasms on their own, but
sometimes when I hear about the effects of choosing not to do those things, it sounds like
there's really powerful bonding potential there. Something to keep in mind for the next
time I'm really serious about someone, I guess. Monogamy isn't necessary for these
things, but it would definitely make doing them less complicated.
+ Societal acceptance. Straight up, monogamy is the Western societal default. In some
ways this makes monogamy hard to understand and communicate about -- because there
are so many assumptions and built-in expectations, and folks don't always agree on those
expectations! A recent study found that 40% of young couples don't agree about whether
or not they're monogamous. That amazes me, because I have never assumed that I was
monogamous with a partner until we had a conversation establishing that we were
monogamous... but I guess I can see how it happens, if people feel anxious about
communicating and fall back on assumptions instead.
Usually, however, being the societal default makes monogamy easier. Heterosexual
monogamous people can get married with no problem, for example, and while marriage
is obviously contested territory for non-hets, it's instructive that "gay marriage" is such a
big political issue (while "polyamorous marriage" is currently nothing more than a
specter right-wingers use to scare people about gay marriage). Outsiders usually assume
that you're monogamous when you introduce your partner. Romantic comedies exalt
monogamy; the media, and many people around us, associate monogamy with love.
When you're monogamous, you never have to articulate your weird relationship structure
to your parents. You rarely have to think outside the box about relationship problems, and
you can go to any Western advice columnist or therapist and be sure that they'll recognize
your relationship as legitimate. (Those of you who like privilege checklists might enjoy
this monogamous privilege checklist, which is patterned after Peggy McIntosh's classic
essay and white privilege checklist.)
+ Some people just like it better. Occasionally, people will toy with the idea of an
"orientational" element to polyamory or monogamy: some folks just plain feel aligned
with monogamy or non-monogamy. (I have similar thoughts about this as I do about
BDSM as a sexual orientation.)
Personally, I always think it's really key, during any sex-positive critique, to emphasize
from the start that whatever you like is cool as long as the actions you take are
consensual. I know people who act all apologetic for being monogamous, usually because
they've been overexposed to "polyvangelists" who argue that non-monogamy is "better"
or "more evolved." This is silly! Liking monogamy doesn't have to be justified, as long as
you don't turn around and claim that non-monogamy is bad and wrong. And liking
monogamy is a perfectly awesome reason for preferring monogamy!
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2011/06/09/in-praise-of-monogamy/
* * *
* * *
* * *
POLYAMORY:
[theory] My Top Questions About Dealing With Multiple Lovers
I wrote this in early 2011. The comments on the online version are especially good -- lots
of viewpoints and resources shared. Sometimes my commenters just blow me away.
* * *
My Top Questions About Dealing With Multiple Lovers
I have a lot more theoretical exposure to polyamory than personal experience, but I've
been gaining more personal experience over the last year. It's often interesting, sometimes
painful.
Some recent experiences are making me think I am not nearly as smart or as on top of my
emotions as I like to believe I am. I remind myself that I have to be willing to
acknowledge when I don't know what I'm thinking, but that's harder than it looks... I don't
always take enough time to understand my feelings before speaking or acting.
Still. Through the stupid mistakes and the understandable ones, though my own failures
to be sensitive and the little heartbreaks I've sustained, I've been learning.
One thing I think I've figured out is what I want: I want a number of different
relationships that are ongoing, and one or two relationships that are primary, or especially
committed. Ideally, in fact, I'd love to eventually have a permanent relationship with a
primary polyamorous partner in which we have kids with each other, live together most
of the time, etc, but are still polyamorous. That would be a while in the future, though --
for now, it's important to me to not feel as though my partners expect me to settle down
or stay in one place or anything like that. It seems like any relationship I develop, even
during this relatively early time in my life, could become a child-rearing relationship
eventually -- like, years from now -- but if it does, I doubt I'd want to make it
monogamous.
I recognize that we don't always get our ideal world. In fact, we usually don't. Although
polyamory is a high priority for me, it may be something I eventually compromise on,
given that the majority of people in this world identify as monogamous.
Keeping all that in mind, my preference for polyamory presents some challenges, and
questions that I worry about. Such as:
1. What are my responsibilities towards my partners' other partners? A lot of poly
people will tell you that if you get into a relationship with, say, a married polyamorous
man, then you must also expect to interact with his spouse. In other words, don't assume
that your relationship means you only interact with one half of a couple. I'm totally fine
with this, but on occasion I've felt like I was getting sucked into the couple's problems, or
like I was expected to have no individual relationship with my partner -- that I always had
to go through his primary partner.
Yes, it is certainly my responsibility to communicate with my partners' other partners and
to be friendly with them. But I need to set boundaries on that too -- just dating a poly guy
does not make me their relationship therapist, and it doesn't make me best friends with
his other girlfriends (or boyfriends, for that matter). I am responsible for what I do, but
I'm not responsible for what he does. I am responsible for how I treat his spouse, but I
can't be responsible for how he treats his spouse.
But what if I'm already friends with someone, and one of my partners gets involved with
that person? Do I have special responsibilities in that case? I'm still figuring that one out.
2. When is it actually the best time to start talking about polyamory and setting out
relationship definitions? My approach so far has been to put poly on the table during
initial conversations, and then talk about it more when the topic of the relationship comes
up. But I've been thinking lately that I probably should go into more detail sooner,
because people have such different stereotypes of open relationships that I can't be sure
they're on board with what I'm talking about unless we've discussed polyamory in-depth.
I feel like I talk to a lot of people who think they want a supposedly "polyamorous"
relationship because they see it as a no-strings-attached free-for-all, and that's definitely
not what I want. Or I talk to people who back away from polyamory for the same reason.
I see polyamory as being about more commitment to relationship negotiation, not less. I
see it as being about setting individual boundaries, if necessary -- it's not about having no
boundaries. I see it as being about creating a secure situation for all parties involved --
not making anyone insecure, or ignoring anyone's needs. And being polyamorous doesn't
make my relationships unimportant to me. Being in love doesn't seem at odds with
polyamory for me.
This is a hard thing to communicate in a small dose, though, especially if I'm dealing
with someone who has minimal exposure to the concept. On the other hand, having a
Serious Conversation about polyamory on the first date is a bit much.
3. Is it a good idea for me to get involved with guys who ultimately want
monogamy? As I noted earlier, I might compromise to monogamy eventually, but poly is
a priority for me. (Who knows, maybe I'll decide it's my ideal relationship formation
again someday. This seems unlikely to me right now, but anything's possible.)
But what if I get really into a guy who ultimately plans to be monogamous? Is this a bad
call on my part? On the one hand, if I go on a few dates with a 28-year-old guy who
doesn't want to get married until his mid-30s but definitely wants a monogamous
marriage when he does... I mean, why not have a relationship? On the other hand, I may
be setting myself up for heartbreak in such situations, if he basically sees our relationship
as "not real" from the start. This brings me to my next point....
4. Some people see polyamory as a sign of commitment-phobia. I've made this
mistake myself -- in fact, the "polyamory as commitment-phobia" stereotype is so strong
that I've occasionally reversed it and wondered if my desire for it was a sign of
commitment-phobia. But the fact is, my appreciation for polyamory only increased as I
became more certain about what I'm seeking in a partner, and as I gained more
understanding of how to negotiate that. It's come along with relationship confidence and
understanding.
I feel pretty okay with believing in commitment in the context of polyamory. But my
potential partners might not be. I already tend towards emotional caginess and am
sometimes accused of being way too emotionally controlled -- I'm worried that I'll be
read as a "player" (or a "slut") by people who write me off as a result. I'm also worried
that some may be attracted to me because they see me as an emotionless player, whether
they admit it or not -- indeed, even if they don't admit it to themselves -- and will be
annoyed if I turn out not to be that way. Stereotypes and assumptions are tricky to root
out whether we're aware of them or not.
Some days, I get nervous that the guys who are going to be willing to talk about and
process relationships in the depth that I'm looking for, with a degree of acknowledged
emotional commitment, are all monogamous. Then I remind myself of how many
awesome polyamorous men I know, and also that I'm falling for stereotypes yet again,
just by having these fears.
5. Other questions:
How open am I to casual relationships that don't seem to be going in an emotional
direction, given that I don't have to give up on more serious relationships to have them?
How does being poly change breakup dynamics?
In the absence of monogamy, are there different signifiers that a relationship is serious --
or is getting serious? How can I get better at both giving and reading those signifiers?
What are the other poly stereotypes I've internalized, and how do I act against them?
What are the other poly stereotypes I should look out for from others?
6. Sigh.
Rereading all my questions and rethinking all my thoughts makes me feel somewhat
exhausted. Relationships are hard, and hacking the expected models makes them
hopefully more fulfilling... but also so much more complicated. My life seems so weird
sometimes; a week doesn't go by that I don't wonder why I'm not getting a nice typical
job and settling down with a white picket fence and the monogamous husband and having
2.5 kids. That is not actually what I want, but sometimes the image seems seductively
easy.
* * *
This can be found on the Internet at:
http://clarissethorn.com/blog/2011/04/11/my-top-questions-about-dealing-with-multiplelovers/
* * *
* * *
* * *
SEX WORK:
[storytime] One Blurred Edge of Sex Work: Portrait of a Sugar Baby
I published this interview in January 2012 at the gender-lens website RoleReboot.org,
where I had just taken on the role of Sex + Relationships Section Editor. Olivia left the
business in mid-2012, as you can read in the piece that follows this one.
* * *
One Blurred Edge of Sex Work: Portrait of a Sugar Baby
Sex work is a controversial and polarized topic, and there are many perspectives on it.
My position is complex -- but for me, when it comes to how we actually interact with sex
workers, one important factor is whether or not they consent to and enjoy their jobs. I am
absolutely in favor of giving better options to sex workers who do not enjoy their jobs,
and I am horrified by the idea of a person being trafficked or coerced into sex that they
don't want to have. But I also know people who have sex for money 100% voluntarily,
and I do not want to deny their experience.
My friend Olivia, a 25-year-old graduate student, recently started advertising her services
on a "Sugar Baby" site called SeekingArrangement.com. I think it's important for more
people to understand these kinds of experiences, so I asked to interview her. Many people
have pointed out that once a person starts thinking about the definition of "prostitute," it's
a bit difficult to define what exactly a prostitute is. Some of my sex worker friends have
asked the question: what exactly is the difference between a person whose partner buys
her a fancy dinner after which they have sex -- and a person whose partner buys sex with
money? Olivia has thought at length about this, and I'm grateful to her for sharing her
perspective on that question, and others.
Please note that Olivia is exceptionally privileged. What you are about to read is a
portrait of what the sex industry looks like for a person who is very privileged: she comes
from a white upper-middle-class background, she is not desperate, she is being paid a lot
of money, she does not have a drug addiction. Many other peoples' experiences in the sex
industry are very different.
Clarisse Thorn: Hey Olivia, thanks so much for being willing to talk about this
incredibly complicated topic. Could you start by defining a sugar baby site? What is
it?
Olivia: I use the site SeekingArrangement.com. I don't actually know how many sugar
baby sites there are, but I get the sense there's more than one. It's very hard to pin down
exactly what it does. I guess it connects people, usually with a big age gap, who are
interested in exchanging some kind of material goods or financial resources for some
form of companionship that is often sexual -- but not always.
As far as I can tell, the site's founder is very against the claim that this is prostitution. He
puts out a lot of publicity claiming that this site has nothing to do with prostitution. At
first I thought that he was trying to evade legal consequences, but I think he actually
probably believes that. The site has a blog that he controls, and you can look at it to get a
sense of what he's thinking. One post I think is really interesting is called "Sugar Baby &
Sugar Daddy: The Modern Day Princess & Prince?", which compares being a sugar baby
to a kind of "happily ever after" princess fantasy.
So far, no one I've talked to seems remotely interested in hiring what they see as a
"prostitute." They seem to want to be having sex with someone they find very attractive
who is also someone they feel like they can respect, whose intelligence they respect. For
example, someone I see occasionally -- the last time I saw him, he gave me money at the
end and he said that he felt good about giving me the money because he knew I wouldn't
spend it on, quote, "a designer handbag." He seems to think that I am reasonably
ambitious and have my shit together, and he seems to feel more comfortable giving me
money because he knows it goes towards my grad school costs and credit card debt. My
ability to write with proper grammar, without overusing emoticons, appears to be my
biggest sales point. Men have told me this outright.
That guy also mentioned feeling more comfortable because he thinks I'm from the same
social class as he is. There are a lot of class issues coming up in these encounters, I think.
Being white and from an upper-middle-class background may help me get clients. My
background has also given me a ton of confidence that puts me at an advantage when
negotiating. I do not think I radiate "take advantage of me," and I (nicely) tell guys who
start doing that to go away.
The guy I was just talking about -- he also mentioned that he feels like he doesn't want to
have sex with someone that he doesn't feel at least a little bit connected to. There's a
distinction between meaningless sex and casual sex. I think these guys want casual sex --
maybe they aren't at the point where they want to deal with having a partner, or they're
really busy at work, or they already have another partner -- they want casual sex but not
meaningless sex.
In my encounters with these men, the money does two things. Firstly, it enables them to
have a relationship with me that they wouldn't otherwise be able to have. Secondly, it
puts them in this position where they can give me something valuable and have that be
appreciated. The guys I see really want to feel appreciated.
Clarisse Thorn: Do you feel like this has given you any new insight into gender
roles?
Olivia: Hmm.... It's made me feel more powerful. I definitely feel like I am the one with
the power in this situation. When I show up, I don't feel like -- here is this rich, powerful
person who is about to bestow wealth upon me. I feel like -- here is this person who is a
bit sad and lonely, and maybe I can make their day better.
A lot of the men who are on this site want to feel appreciated, so it's important to them
that the woman they're with give off the appearance of appreciating them. So for
example, on the website there's a lot of talk about sugar daddies being "mentors" or
"benefactors" rather than clients. They seem to want some combination of me asking