The V-Word

by Amber J. Keyser

  AMBER: It seems like no one ever has a neutral conversation about sex. People have pretty strong feelings about the topic and tend to jump on the judgment bandwagon right away. How do labels like slut or prude influence the way we tell stories about sex?

  KELLY: Slut and prude are value judgments used to keep a woman in line or put her in her place socially. A slut is easy and worthless, while a prude is uptight and naive. Labeling takes away sexual autonomy from women. There is a whole spectrum of sexual experiences that we can choose to engage in or not. Labels give a false, limiting sense that a women’s sexual choices make her good or bad—often called slut-shaming or prude-shaming.

  One of the best examples of how and why these labels are damaging is explored in Mariko and Jillian Tamaki’s This One Summer. Rose and her family hit the same beach every summer for vacation, where she is reunited with her younger friend Windy. This particular summer, Rose and Windy find themselves tuned in to the kids who live in the resort town year-round, and Rose starts referring to some of the girls as sluts. Windy calls her out on it, and Rose has to pause and reflect upon why she’s using the language she is to describe girls she doesn’t even know, what those judgments really mean, and what it might feel like were she at the receiving end of such labels.

  In Jennifer Mathieu’s The Truth about Alice, we see what happens when one girl’s sexual reputation becomes the focal point for a tragedy that rocks the town. It’s a tough look at how rotten people can be toward a girl when she is seen as little more than the town slut. Labeling Alice allows people to ignore and dehumanize her.

  A small number of titles like Pure by Terra Elan McVoy and Purity by Jackson Pearce explore purity pledges, a growing movement in the United States in which a girl vows, often in the presence of her religious community, to remain a virgin. Hardly any books look at virginity as a personal choice made by a girl and what the social ramifications are for her.

  In Looking for Alibrandi by Melina Marchetta, Josie decides she’s not ready to have intercourse with her boyfriend, despite the fact she enjoys the touching and exploration going on with him. She tells Jacob that she’s not ready. The place isn’t right, the mood isn’t right, and her virginity is something she wants to enjoy sharing with someone on her own terms. Jacob rebuffs her, suggesting she’s being a prude about going further, but Josie tells him that making a choice about her body is something only she gets to do. He’s upset at first, but eventually he realizes that he’s the one being a jerk.

  Diana Peterfreund’s duology Rampant and Ascendant features girls who grapple with their choices about virginity as well.

  The bottom line is that we need to be careful with language. Labels and the judgments they carry limit our ability to talk about what a sexually fulfilling and empowered life looks and feels like.

  AMBER: I love watching Modern Family, Orange Is the New Black, The Fosters, and Orphan Black. It’s awesome to see same-sex relationships and transgender issues depicted in such a normalizing way on television. Can you talk about depictions of sexual orientation, gender identity, and the shifting nature of sexuality?

  KELLY: There is an increasing number of excellent books featuring LGBTQ characters and themes for young adult readers like The Difference between You and Me by Madeleine George, The Miseducation of Cameron Post by Emily M. Danforth, Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe by Benjamin Alire Saenz, Empress of the World by Sara Ryan, Two Boys Kissing by David Levithan and Openly Straight by Bill Konigsberg.

  But I want to go into more detail about titles that push the boundaries even further.

  Far from You by Tess Sharpe features a bisexual main character, who actually uses the word bisexual to describe herself. This goes back to our conversation about the power of language. It’s important and validating for readers to see precise descriptions of sexuality.

  Nina LaCour’s Everything Leads to You is a solid lesbian romance in which the main character, Emi, is a person of color. Another fantastic, racially diverse story is Not Otherwise Specified by Hannah Moskowitz. Bisexual main character Etta is open and positively owns her queerness.

  In Adaptation and Inheritance, author Malinda Lo depicts a main character who can’t choose between a boy and a girl. She’s got feelings for both that she wants to pursue. In a great twist, Lo allows her main character to have both partners at once. It’s a relationship to which they all consent and an arrangement which brings them all satisfaction. Alaya Dawn Johnson’s The Summer Prince features bisexuality and polyamory in a nonwhite society.

  I’ve got to mention Libba Bray’s Beauty Queens here. Though it’s a satire, Bray offers characters who explore and identify all along the sexuality spectrum in a way that’s not just refreshing but reflects what our world looks like.

  Notable transgender and transsexual stories include Kirstin Cronn-Mills’s Beautiful Music for Ugly Children and Julie Anne Peters’s Luna. The nonfiction work Beyond Magenta: Transgender Teens Speak Out by Susan Kuklin profiles transgender and gender -neutral teenagers, giving us an important look at real teens who are exploring their gender identities. Two additional nonfiction memoirs about gender reassignment to note include Some Assembly Required by Arin Andrews and Rethinking Normal by Katie Rain Hill.

  For a non-Western story of sexuality, there’s Sara Farizan’s If You Could Be Mine, set in Iran. Farizan’s novel is about two girls who are in love but legally can’t be together, so one considers a sex change, a procedure legal in Iran, in order to be with the girl she loves.

  Liz Prince’s memoir Tomboy shows what it feels like to be pressured to conform to what society sees as acceptable gender appearances. Prince doesn’t like dressing in a manner that girls are “supposed to,” and must confront what it means to be true to herself.

  Stories like these capture the reality of today’s world. It’s not all straight and white, male and female. It’s a variety of colors, shapes, and desires. Sexuality is a spectrum, and gender identities are not set in stone.

  AMBER: For women especially, how we feel about our bodies is a huge part of how we experience sex. That’s a theme that came out in many of the essays in this book. How do you see the relationship between body image and sexuality intersecting in fiction?

  KELLY: How often do we really talk honestly about body image? There’s a Body Image and Eating Disorder Awareness Week, but we live in a world where “plus-size” models are size ten, and everything is photoshopped. We applaud underwear companies like Aerie that don’t retouch models in their advertising and get emotional about Dove soap campaigns featuring women of varying shapes and sizes. But even these companies only showcase a tiny fraction of the range of body shapes, sizes, and features found in real women. That’s weird, isn’t it?

  But back to sex and body image. Growing up I was told that I’d be ready to have sex when I could perform naked cartwheels in front of my partner. That would mean I was truly okay with my body and ready to share it with someone else. But that’s silly and really demeaning.

  Body image and sexuality are inextricably connected because sex is about our bodies. Even if it’s not necessarily about how they look, it’s about what they can do and the things they feel. Sex makes our bodies feel good, but it doesn’t make our body image insecurities suddenly disappear. Many of us struggle with varying levels of body acceptance. That’s okay. But there’s also no doubt that being secure in your body can be an important part of sharing it with someone else.

  One of the best novels that explores the relationship between body image and sex is Susan Vaught’s My Big Fat Manifesto. Jamie acknowledges that her body is fat but she’s comfortable in her own skin. Jamie pursues and enjoys sex, and the way her body looks has no bearing on what it does or how it can feel when she’s enjoying herself. What makes this book even more special is that Jamie’s boyfriend Burke decides he’s not comfortable with his weight and chooses to get bypass surgery. Jamie recognizes that other people don’t feel as comfortable with themselves as she does a
nd that’s okay too.

  A nonfiction title worth looking at is Nancy Amanda Redd’s Body Drama, which features color photographs of many different women naked, including close-ups of breasts and vaginas, as well as down-to-earth talk about body image.

  AMBER: One of the common stereotypes about sex is that for women it’s all emotional but for men it’s one big physical explosion. What do you think? Any truth there or is that all bullshit?

  KELLY: If that were the case, then girls would never be interested in hookups.

  Girls have a wide range of responses to sex. For some, it’s exceptionally emotional—it’s totally normal to cry if you’re having a good time. For others, it’s entirely physical—your body can just feel amazing when you’re having a good time.

  Every single person is different and each sexual experience is different. Even regular sex with the same partner can be unique in every encounter: sometimes it’s emotional, sometimes it’s not, and, maybe most of the time, it falls between being very emotional and very physical.

  In Daria Snadowsky’s Anatomy of a Single Girl, Dominique struggles with the idea of having sex with a guy for the sake of having sex. She’s just broken up with her first love, and the idea of hooking up with a guy for the fun of it seems beyond her. She’s a “good girl.” But the more she engages, the less scary sex for physical pleasure becomes. There’s a scene where she pushes her partner down and straddles him, taking total control of intercourse. Being on top allows her to achieve sexual satisfaction in a way she never has before. This is a turning point for Dominique because she discovers how awesome her body is and how great it can feel.

  The main character in Biggest Flirts by Jennifer Echols is not interested in commitment nor is she seeking emotional satisfaction. Tia wants a good time and nothing more. Her approach to sex is shame-free and empowering.

  Sarah Dessen deserves recognition here, too, for offering readers a sexually active and empowered main character in The Moon and More. Emaline enjoys sex with her long-time boyfriend, Luke. It’s a fun, healthy part of their relationship. When it’s time for her to break it off with Luke, sex isn’t a string keeping them together. It isn’t the whole of her.

  AMBER: Often a precursor to good sexual experiences is knowing your way around your own body, but it still seems like masturbation, especially when it comes to women, is hardly talked about. Where do we see positive depictions of female masturbation?

  KELLY: There’s an excellent piece in Rookie: Yearbook One (a compilation edited by Tavi Gevinson), about female masturbation that reminded me how important it is to have open conversations about solo sex. There is nothing more empowering than knowing your own geography.

  In The F— It List by Julie Halpern, Becca, who has cancer, makes a bucket list for her best friend Alex to complete. One of the items is for Alex to masturbate. She feels more uncomfortable with the idea of masturbation than she does having sex with a partner. But Alex follows through on the list even though she feels guilty that she gets to masturbate while Becca’s in chemotherapy. The open and honest conversations between Becca and Alex are empowering and validating, both to them and to readers.

  In Anatomy of a Boyfriend by Daria Snadowsky, Dominique purposefully gets to know her own body before she engages in sexual activities with her boyfriend so she will have a better idea of what it’s going to feel like. Other depictions of teen girls masturbating and enjoying it include Fiona Woods’ Wildlife, Kody Keplinger’s The DUFF, and Sarah McCarry’s All Our Pretty Songs. Of course, Judy Blume was a pioneer here, too, with Deenie.

  AMBER: I think we should talk about romance novels. I remember waiting on the hold list at the library for six months to get a copy of a bodice-ripper called The Savage Sands. It doesn’t take many sexual experiences to realize that romance novels are not reality, but do they have something to offer in the all-about-sex conversation?

  KELLY: Absolutely!

  It’s important to look at romances not as a roadmap to how the real world of sex works, but as stories that encourage women to take control of their romantic and sexual lives. It’s so validating to see a heroine take the reins and go for what she wants. Romance is exciting—and sometimes even feels forbidden—because the focus is on female pleasure. Women in romance novels have great orgasms and get happy endings.

  Romance novels also allow teens to enjoy some seriously hot sex in a way that works at their level of comfort. Too hot? Shut the book or skim the pages. Not hot enough? There are thousands of other titles to choose from. Even the act of being able to pick and choose what kind of spice you want to read is an exercise in control and comfort with sex.

  The same can be said of erotic fan fiction. Lots of steamy, sexy material is written and consumed by young women. It’s a safe outlet to explore what they like and what brings them satisfaction. That’s powerful!

  AMBER: Some of the most frequently challenged books are ones dealing with sexual violence like The Bluest Eye by Toni Morrison and Speak by Laurie Halse Anderson. Is this a topic we need to protect young people from reading about?

  KELLY: Part of why those books are challenged and censored is that they make adults uncomfortable. Just as it is hard for most parents to discuss sex in a healthy, productive way with their teens, they don’t want to talk about sexual violence either. But we have to talk about in order to have any hope of curtailing it.

  It would be great if the real world were always safe and unproblematic but the truth is lots of hard, sad, terrible things happen to young people. Books reflect those experiences. Blocking readers from difficult content doesn’t make them safer or more innocent. Fiction is a safe space to explore hard topics like sexual violence.

  In addition to Anderson’s groundbreaking and life-changing Speak, other titles continue to blaze trails. Christa Desir’s Fault Line, told from the male point of view, delves into his girlfriend’s experience being sexually violated and the fallout she endures when it’s not clear what has happened to her. Brandy Colbert’s Pointe features an adult of legal age pursuing and becoming intimate with an underage girl in a way that haunts her deeply for a long time.

  Uses for Boys by Erica Lorraine Scheidt offers a story about a girl who has various sexual experiences, some good and some violent. The Mockingbirds by Daisy Whitney is about a girl who experiences sexual violence and pursues justice for herself, even though she knows it means she might not be seen in the most favorable light, if she’s even listened to at all.

  Other titles that tackle aspects of sexual violence worth mentioning include One Lonely Degree by C. K. Kelly Martin, Tricks by Ellen Hopkins, Live through This by Mindi Scott, Faking Normal by Courtney C. Stevens, and Just Listen by Sarah Dessen.

  The bottom line is that we should put more faith in young people and their ability to tackle tough subjects in their reading material. Teens are amazing self-censors and know when they can’t read something because they’re uncomfortable with it or it’s too much to handle. We need to talk with them about these stories. They deserve that.

  AMBER: In 2012, a group of high school boys from Steubenville High School repeatedly raped one of their peers and posted the assault on social media. This horrific rape triggered a nationwide conversation about rape culture. Are there any good books that take on this difficult issue?

  KELLY: Let’s start with a definition: “rape culture” means a society where many practices and beliefs legitimize sexual violence and shift the focus from the violator to the victim.

  Think about dress codes in school. The rules aimed at girls can go on for paragraphs—don’t wear short skirts, low-cut tops, leggings, certain makeup, and so forth. Why? So you’re not a “distraction.” So boys can control themselves. Often rape victims are accused of wearing slutty clothes and therefore “asking for it.” If a woman has had multiple sexual partners, then she obviously deserved to be raped.

  We live in a world where women are constantly shamed and reminded that our very existence is a distraction to men. Discussions o
f rape focus almost exclusively on the things women can do to prevent rape instead of on raising boys into men who would never sexually assault another person.

  The outcry after Steubenville wasn’t about the victim and how her life was irrevocably changed. It was about the “poor boys” and how their futures were now tarnished. That’s rape culture.

  As for depictions in fiction, All the Rage by Courtney Summers is a must-read. It exposes some ugly truths about our social commitment to protecting boys and their actions at the expense of girls’ bodies, emotional well-being, and futures. The story reveals what it is like to be a victim of rape and have an entire community turn against you. This book is a wake-up call about the importance of listening to and believing victims of sexual violence.

  Patty Blount’s Some Boys tackles some similar elements of rape culture, with the added perspective of what it’s like to be a boy who is caught between believing what happened to a girl he likes and coming to terms with the fact his best friend may be the rapist.

  AMBER: The opposite of rape is consent—ideally enthusiastic consent. Are there good examples in fiction of healthy ways young people talk about sex with potential partners?

  KELLY: I’m glad we’re seeing more focus in media for teens on consent and what that really means. A huge part of combating rape culture will be conversations with boys and men about the importance of asking whether they can do things with their partner—Can I kiss you? Can I touch you there? It’s simple and nonnegotiable.

  Part of the problem is how often sex is seen as just penetration, rather than a landscape of sexual behaviors. Intercourse is the yes or no point instead of the sexual experience as a whole being a series of steps and discussions.

  Sarah Ockler’s Twenty Boy Summer is a great example of sexual consent. Jolene Perry’s The Summer I Found You is another solid example. There’s an actual conversation between the couple, wherein it’s laid out that when one person says pause or stop, then the activity does just that. The third book in Myra McEntire’s Hourglass series, Infinityglass, features a boy who asks the girl if he has “a green light” to continue when they’re getting into it. Dunn and Hallie build trust into their relationship through their conversation about whether what is happening is comfortable and okay.