Best Sex Writing 2012

by Rachel Bussel

  Antipornography activists Gail Dines and Wendy Murphy were by far the most egregious offenders when it came to stubbornly refusing to get it. They argued against SlutWalk in the Guardian, writing, “Encouraging women to be even more ‘sluttish’ will not change this ugly reality. As teachers who travel around the country speaking about sexual violence, pornography and feminism, we hear stories from women students who feel intense pressure to be sexually available ‘on demand.’”

  It was a mind-boggling exercise in arguing with a straw man. SlutWalk is not saying, “Everyone has to be exactly the same: dress in nothing and have sex with everyone who asks.” SlutWalk is saying, “Even if you think someone’s a slut, don’t rape her.” In fact, a protest against the consensus that it’s OK to rape a woman just because of what she’s wearing is a protest against the expectation that women be available on demand. Murphy and Dines might as well have argued that people protesting police brutality were supporting it by encouraging folks to believe they have a right to a life fuller than sitting quietly at home in fear of the police.

  Dines reinforced the sense that she objected to SlutWalk precisely because she wants young women to feel shame for being sexy when she went on the BBC’s “World Have Your Say” and practically hyperventilated while describing young women who walk around wearing tight, low-cut jeans and skimpy shirts as if they had every right in the world to wear what they want. (Hint: They do, and men shouldn’t rape them for it.) Dines’s argument skews very close to the conservative argument that women’s sexuality and sexual freedom must be curtailed for the good of civilization. She argues that women need to rein it in so that other women don’t feel they have to be sexual to get men’s attention. This is scarcely different from the conservative argument that the “hookup culture” is making it so easy for men to get laid that they won’t give women what they really want, which is marriage. If for “marriage” you substitute “respect” or “not bugging you for sex” it’s functionally the same argument.

  It was particularly strange for Dines to hook her hostility toward sexual playfulness in the public space to SlutWalk, since SlutWalk objectively did not pressure women to tart it up for dudely enjoyment. SlutWalk organizers encouraged women to wear whatever they wanted, anything from their sluttiest outfit to complete coverage in head-to-toe cloth. Katha Pollitt, writing for The Nation, captured the spirit perfectly when she said that Slut-Walkers were “attacking the very division of women into good girls and bad ones, Madonnas and whores.”

  Why, then, did so many participants find it useful to walk dressed in the traditional garb of the slut, the miniskirt and the fishnet? Because they were challenging the retort to women who dress in revealing clothes, which is that they’re somehow sending A Message to men. The exact content of this Message is rarely spelled out by people who are concerned about it; it is instead expressed as “What do you expect men to think if you leave the house looking like that?”

  Here’s what I expect:

  If I’m out on the town wearing a cute minidress, I expect that I’ll get a lot of indifference, some men thinking I look good, some men thinking that I want to be attractive, some men thinking I enjoy feeling sexy, some men flirting—and some men thinking, “I wouldn’t wear those shoes with that dress.” I expect men to be happy they live in a world where people have fun and exude sexual energy, because I believe sex is pleasurable and good and that a little more sexual energy in the world tends to improve the fun we have at home.

  What I don’t expect men to think is Oh boy, I get to rape that one! or Clearly, she forfeited her right not to be harassed when she broke the nonexistent rule about skirt length written by me. I feel that these are reasonable expectations, since the indifferent or favorable reactions I described above are what happens to me 99 percent of the time when I wear a minidress in public.

  I expect that when a man thinks a woman being sexy means that she isn’t smart or deserving of basic respect, you know everything you need to know about him, and he is the one who has forfeited his right to be treated with respect, not the woman he claims provoked him. I think such a man doesn’t actually respect any women; he’s just making excuses because he likes harassing women. I expect other people not to make excuses or consider his opinion to matter in any way. I expect instead that such men be shunned by decent people.

  I expect when I use the word slut in an arch, ironic way that men will find it both funny and insightful. I expect men to understand humor. I expect men to understand that even if I really do think I’m a “slut” this doesn’t mean I’m no longer a human. I expect men who believe I’ve had a lot of sex to know that no means no, no matter who says it. Again, these expectations have proven so far reasonable with the majority of men, and I expect that men who resist them have it in them to not be assholes.

  I have one more expectation. I expect that when a man flouts the rules of morality and decency and harasses or assaults a woman, we treat him like the raving douchebag he is, and bring criminal charges where applicable.

  Reading back over my list of expectations—demands—the part of me still socialized in traditional femininity flinches. A woman running down a list of expectations calls to mind unpleasant stereotypes: a bridezilla stomping her foot at a florist who used the word can’t, Meryl Streep in a power suit barking orders at a hapless assistant, a grim-faced church lady denouncing the evils of fornication. But really, this list of expectations isn’t so outrageous. The ability to live in the world, have fun, be flirtatious, make jokes, dress alluringly, have sex, and do all these things while still expecting the law to protect you from violent assault? These sorts of things should be expectations. Men—at least privileged white men who aren’t continually targeted by the police—experience lives where these expectations don’t even need to be articulated, but are simply part of the air they breathe. All SlutWalk is asking is that the same opportunities be offered to women.

  Criminalizing Circumcision: Self-Hatred as Public Policy

  Marty Klein

  Full disclosure: I’m circumcised.

  Too much information? Tell that to the people—well-meaning or otherwise—who have actually created a ballot measure to criminalize circumcision in San Francisco.1 Yes, in November 2011, San Franciscans vote on whether or not babies (and all minors) can be circumcised. In the wake of the ban’s (unlikely) passage, one can imagine the surgical equivalent of speakeasies or underground abortion clinics to which families bring little Joshua, Omar, or Justin.

  The bill has been driven primarily by the psychological anguish of a small number of activists. The main source of information about their emotional torment is contained in the bill’s language: It is unlawful to circumcise, excise, cut, or mutilate the whole or any part of the foreskin, testicles, or penis of another person who has not attained the age of 18 years.

  Equating the removal of an infant’s foreskin with the “mutilation” of the testicles or penis is ignorance, willful distortion, or delusion. No one in the city has been accused of touching any minor’s testicles or penis (Catholic priests notwithstanding). But lumping these together with the routine, nearly painless removal of foreskin—which has no impact on later physical function—shows just how theatrical the bill’s sponsors are. They are acting out their own odd sense of bereavement with a grand display of concern for future generations.

  As a sex therapist for 31 years, I have talked with more men about their penises than an office full of urologists. We’ve discussed concerns about size, shape, color, and the angle of the dangle. We’ve talked about the ability to give and receive pleasure. We’ve talked about the amount, color, taste, smell, and consistency of semen. We’ve talked about what women (and other men) supposedly like about penises. And some men have talked about how they feel about being circumcised or not circumcised. If I ask, almost all men are fine as they are; if a man brings it up first, he’s almost always convinced he’d be better off different than he is—the cut guys want to be uncut, and the uncut guys want
to be cut.

  Most patients who wish they were different are perfectly sane people who are somewhat overconcerned about their penises. Others are a bit less sane. And a few are intensely involved with their feelings to the point of ignoring science, logic, and the sworn statements of one or more lovers.

  I believe the people behind the San Francisco proposal to ban circumcision are among the latter group. In 31 years of talking with men about their penises, I have never met a man who felt damaged, mutilated, or emasculated by his circumcision who did not have other emotional problems as well. The pain they claim to remember from the brief procedure is impossible; the rejection from “all women” a childish overgeneralization; the sense of being incomplete a neurotic problem that has other sources.

  Yes, there are a few sensible reasons that some sincere people want to discourage routine circumcision. But this is dramatically different from men who feel mutilated or disgusted with their penis blaming all their life’s problems on an event they can’t possibly remember.

  The sexual effects of circumcision are clear: there are none. Say what you want about foreskins protecting penile sensitivity—virtually no one complains that their penis isn’t sensitive enough. I make my living listening to stories of sexual frustration and dissatisfaction, and they almost never center on “my penis doesn’t feel things intensely enough.” When they do, it almost invariably involves a serious emotional problem (guilt, Asperger’s syndrome, anxiety, trauma, dissociation, etc.), and the guy is as likely to be uncircumcised as not.

  The idea that a penis being 2 percent or 20 percent more sensitive (from the protective action of a foreskin) would prevent men’s sexual distress is nonsense. You might as well say that bigger testicles would make sex better. The truth is, most men (like most women) do very few of the things that could enhance their enjoyment of sex: relaxation or meditation beforehand; more kissing; communicating more about likes and dislikes; experimenting more with nonerogenous parts of both bodies; taking more time; starting when they’re not already tired; covering contraception more reliably; using a lubricant before it’s “necessary”; and learning to enjoy sex with a bit of light in the room.

  Men who cry that they can’t enjoy sex without a foreskin are in real pain—but it isn’t really about their circumcision.

  The United Nations recognizes the health benefits of circumcision ; the World Health Organization is now promoting a huge circumcision campaign in sub-Saharan Africa, which has been wildly successful in reducing HIV infections in Uganda, Kenya, and South Africa. Ironically, it’s world-famous San Francisco urologist Ira Sharlip who’s been asked to advise the project. Halfway around the world, the Philippines recently offered free circumcisions for poor people, who lined up enthusiastically.

  Indeed, studies around the world show that circumcision reduces urinary and other infections, has no negative sexual effects, and is rarely dangerous when performed according to simple public health guidelines. There is absolutely no evidence that the sexual experiences of circumcised and uncircumcised men are different for them or their partners (outside of their partners’ simple personal taste, of course). What do women prefer? Most prefer the penises they’ve spent their lives with.

  As a therapist, I am sworn to empathize with the pain of every man, woman, and child in my office. I am also devoted to reducing suffering by helping people understand the meaning behind their pain, the better to resolve and escape from it.

  As a citizen, my sworn concern is to keep emotion out of public policy, the better to foster the impartiality of science and enhance everyone’s well-being. So I urge anyone who feels damaged by their circumcision to get as much therapy as necessary, as much good sex as possible—and to keep their self-admittedly damaged psyches away from public policy. Guys, pleasure and intimacy await—as soon as you make friends with your penis. The ballot box is not the place to work out your self-loathing.

  On July 28, 2011, California Superior Court Judge Loretta Giorgi ordered the proposed ban on circumcision removed from the upcoming San Francisco ballot. She explained that medical procedures, just like marriage and driver’s licenses, can only be regulated by the state, not by individual municipalities.

  Proponents of the ban vowed to take their drive to the state level.

  In the wake of my posting of this piece, I received over 100 responses, comments, and emails. Although a few were supportive, the overwhelming majority were negative. Some cited the various international associations that don’t support circumcision. Others cited statistics purporting to show that circumcision is dangerous—the extremely rare infection and even the one-ina-million death.

  But most responses dispensed with such civilized conventions as citations and statistics, however bogus or agenda-driven. These correspondents were generally anguished, enraged, or both. They questioned my credentials as a sexologist and as a psychotherapist, often in very nasty terms. They powerfully described their sadness, hopelessness, and bitterness. They felt mutilated and abused, and betrayed by what they interpreted as my dismissal of their pain.

  As I said, that pain is real, but it goes much deeper than circumcision. These men feel alienated from masculinity, from sexuality, from their bodies. Unfortunately, this is not rare in America. As people who struggle with anorexia, obesity, addiction, violent impulses, and lack of sexual desire show us, you don’t have to be circumcised to feel that alienation.

  Some substantive issues did recur in the dozens of negative responses I received. Let me address them directly:

  Why is male circumcision acceptable to those who reject female genital cutting?

  Because the latter brutally damages an entire system of a woman’s body, reduces sexual function for a lifetime (not just sexual pleasure, but sexual function—that’s the intention), and often leads to lifelong infections. Virtually all male circumcision is free of subsequent infection, sexual dysfunction, or urinary damage.

  Circumcision is done before a male can consent, so why not just prevent it until adulthood?

  Our society accepts that parents are responsible for making virtually all decisions for their babies. Parents choose a wide range of medical practices for them without waiting for them to reach adulthood—for example, vaccination, ear piercing, invasive testing, many elective and corrective surgeries.

  A circumcised man can’t know the sexual pleasure he’s missing, so he shouldn’t insist that the procedure is harmless for his (or other) babies.

  This is a curious (and common) argument. If a man can’t know what he’s missing, how can he miss it—as so many anticircumci-sion activists claim? Most men could immediately increase their sexual pleasure by drinking less, kissing more, quitting smoking, talking to their partners, and starting sex earlier in the evening when they’re more energetic. The common unwillingness to take these steps trivializes any demand for “more pleasure.”

  I am certainly no apologist for circumcision. As we say about abortion, nude beaches, and nonmonogamy, if you don’t believe in it, don’t do it.

  But legislating sexuality is the way citizens most often demand that society deal with their personal demons. Fear of our kids being molested? Create horrible sex offender laws. Fear of teens being sexual? Criminalize teen sexuality and “sexting.” Fear of our neighbors being too kinky? Shut down swingers’ clubs. Fear of our kids actually learning something about sex? Destroy sex education and sanitize libraries and network TV.

  When emotion drives public policy, everyone suffers. The pain of stifled sexual expression and the obsessive promotion of sexual fear, guilt, and shame are ultimately far more destructive than any distress about circumcision could possibly be.

  Endnotes

  1 In California, a group of people can get a proposition on the general election ballot by collecting sufficient signatures on a petition. Signature collecting is now a huge business in the state; out-of-state money often drives the process.

  The Worship of Female Pleasure

  Tracy Clark - Flor
y

  Nicole Daedone pulls her long dirty-blond locks into a bun, rolls up the sleeves of her crisp white dress shirt, and readies her lube. On the table in front of her there is a woman, naked only from the waist down, with her knees spread wide. The 40-something founder of OneTaste, a center dedicated to “mindful sexuality,” is about to give a live and impromptu demonstration of orgasmic meditation (“OMing” for short) in a conference room at the sophisticated Le Méridien hotel in San Francisco. She takes a long look between the volunteer’s legs and enthuses to the audience of roughly 40 women: “Oh my god, it’s beautiful. It’s an electric rose color. The swelling is already beginning.”

  Before long, Daedone is hunched over and vigorously stroking the woman’s most sensitive “spot”—the “upper left quadrant” of the clitoris—with just her forefinger. The recipient moans wildly as though she is being taken over by a spirit and Daedone urges her on: “Good girl. Good, good. Reach, reach, reach, reach.” As the woman’s groans peak, Daedone lets out a throaty exhalation that sounds as if it belongs in a Lamaze class. Two audience members overcome by the intensity of the performance are silently crying. The demonstration, which is part of a weekend-long women’s retreat, continues for 15 minutes.

  It is both arousing and deeply bizarre.

  It isn’t every weekend that I find myself watching a woman being repeatedly brought to orgasm in front of a live audience—but I hardly expected normality when I asked to sit in on the workshop. Instead, I was hoping to get a candid view of Daedone ahead of the release of her book, Slow Sex: The Art and Craft of the Female Orgasm, which attempts to market her meditative practice to a broader audience. That is a challenging task when your practice involves a bunch of clothed men (and sometimes women) gathering in a room and manually stimulating half-naked female “research partners” for exactly 15 minutes. Two years ago, a New York Times feature detailed the eyebrow-raising practices at OneTaste’s “urban retreat center” in the wacky-woo Bay Area and described Daedone as “a polarizing personality, whom admirers venerate as a sex diva, although some former members say she has cultlike powers over her followers.” Since that high-profile coverage, OneTaste has become a bit more circumspect, but clearly not so much as to bar spontaneous OMing demonstrations—at an event initially advertised as including no “sexual activity.” (But, you see, Daedone has a tendency to go off script—that, or else appearing to do so is part of her script; it’s hard to say.)