Patient Zero, it's time for your Examination...

I was going to title this post “How Feminism Ruined my Sex Life”, but, as it really hasn’t, I thought such a title, while catchy, might be a bit inflammatory. However…

The thread at Feministe is just another in a long line of similar threads, similar arguments, similar discussions gone awry in the ever interesting, convoluted, and explosive examination of human, in this case more specifically, female sexuality. It’s a topic I’ve posted on many, many times before, but here I am, again, and before I begin, I want to make three things very clear:

1) I am all for people doing what makes them happy when it comes to sex, so long as they do it with other consenting adults. Do it your way, whatever that way might be. I am not in the business of judging other people for what they do in their sex lives, and frankly, I don’t think anyone should be.
2) I think the biggest problem women have with regards to sex, period, is they do not discuss, voice, say, what they want out of it, or don’t want out of it, and if anything, when it comes to an intersection between feminism and sex, the biggest duty we have to other women is to, ah yes, empower them, to voice their desires, say what they do want, and say what they do not want.
3) I do not think any sexual act is inherently degrading, and I do not think that any sexual act is “male centric” or “female centric”. Sex acts are merely that- acts. They have no gender or power based/political implication beyond what humans put on them. They are, as acts, neutral. Any connotations they have? Those come from people.

That being said, I almost did go with the original title because I think a lot of women of many ages, after reading too much about feminist sex, spend a lot of time refining their sexuality to fit their politics, and that is fine, they have the choice to do so, however, often end up feeling shamed for liking things they like, even if they have stopped doing them. Now granted, not all people are as sexual as I am, it’s not such a big deal to them, and that’s okay. But I am a sexual person. Sex and sexuality are very important to me, a big part of who I am, and I do not think that is a bad thing, though yep, sure enough, I’ve been shamed for it. And I can say, for myself, as one woman and one woman alone, if I, back as a young woman who was already examining “what the hell was wrong with me” for having fantasies which were far from vanilla even long before I ever had sex, read a lot of what I read on blogs, in comments, about feminist sex, what is okay, what is wrong, so on so forth…I bet it would’ve made me even more self critical about what I was pretty sure I liked. No, I don't bet. I know it would have. I would’ve felt more ashamed, more deviant, more wrong. And contrary to popular belief, my interests in strange or unusual sex did not come from porn. Historical texts on ancient Greece and Rome, historical fiction, a whirl-wind history obsessed girl tour through the lit a\& poetry of Victorian England? Humm, I read about and was fascinated by the idea of anal long before I ever saw it in porn. From very early on, very, very early on, my sexual fantasies tended towards the rougher side. Long before sex, long before I ever saw porn, hell, long before I’d ever even been on a date. And you can bet your ass I’ve examined. I spent years wondering why I liked rougher sex, or, before I had sex, the idea of rougher sex. The simplest truth I found is I’m a very physical, visceral person with, yep, a darker side. Yes, there is more to it than that, a lot more. Like anyone, my sexuality and mind and thoughts on things are complex. But hell yes, I’ve examined. And the assumption that I haven’t enrages me. The theory that I should, that I even could, change my desires also enrages me. I don’t tell people to do what I do, and I don’t appreciate when people feel they are entitled to tell me. And truthfully, I think my odd proclivities? They’ve given me an advantage many other women don’t have, or at least do not exercise: I am not, nor have I ever been, afraid to ask for what I want, say what I enjoy, and say what I do not enjoy. And if there was one thing my expatriate self could encourage, foster, work for in the cases of other women: That would be it. That ability.

And sure, people are going to point out my privilege, I have no doubt. And yes, in some ways, I am privileged. In my private sex life, I do get to choose my partners. I have the privilege of doing that. I am comfortable enough with my sexuality to be sexual, in the manner I prefer. Yet, please, look at all that and do consider, in a society where women are often thought to not even enjoy sex, or only enjoy a certain kind of sex, and are only often permitted to enjoy it in certain contexts, what sort of privilege a person like me does not have. I’ve been called every name (in a non-sexual fun way) you can possibly imagine by men, women, even feminists. Slut bashing and baiting are daily occurrences. Assumptions run rampant. Were I ever to be raped, or sexually assaulted, my chances in court would be abysmal, because of the type of sex I like, how often I have it, and the number of people I’ve had it with (and we won’t even mention how my job would further decrease my odds). And yep, I am asked to examine and it is often assumed I never have. I am not into traditional BDSM, my kinks run far more towards what people cite as “bad porn”, and people into that? Well, we’re not assumed to have the same safeguards or restraint or rules or consideration or aftercare that is acknowledged by many to be part of the BDSM community. And true enough, often times, we don’t…at least not in such a formal way. That, to some of us, is part of the appeal. Hell, even a lot of BDSM people look at us weird. Which only lends itself even more to the whole denial of my agency, my consent, my awareness of my own sexuality. So yes, I may have some privilege, but I certainly think the bullshit that goes with it balances out in the end.

But you see, I have examined. And contrary to popular belief, it goes beyond my selfish orgasms and thinking with my cunt, my sexuality and what I put into it and get out of it, on my own terms, is a big and important part of who I am, a part I’ve been examining since I was first aware of the fact that I had a sexuality, and it was different. If anything, after all that examining, I think the thing to do in furtherance of “feminist sex” is to equip and empower women to speak on their sexuality, as defined by them, and get them to say what they want, don’t want, and help them do it, if they choose, their way- whatever way they want. After all, a lot of them have probably done more than merely examine, they’ve probably agonized, amid social and cultural contexts and everything. And I am only into agony if people consent.