Archive for Sex+ Society
Expanding Our Reality with Curvy Girls
At a party last Friday night, I had a conversation with a fellow guest about the inevitability of internalizing pervasive attitudes and prejudices of the culture(s) in which we grow up. It seems to me that even if we reject these perspectives intellectually and are aware of their falseness or repugnance, it is unavoidable to have been affected by cultural undercurrents of ingrained perspectives such as sexism, racism, and other disgusting “isms” as we develop. While I could go on and on about how I perceive this phenomenon and feel it is best addressed, that would be rather outside the scope of this post. :) The reason I bring it up here is because I feel perceptions of “fat” and the correlative judgements, associations, and implications one may experience around it signifies one of these areas where the influence of cultural attitudes seems virtually unavoidable.
For example, if I find (my perception of) our mainstream culture’s standards for the shape and form of the human female body fiercely dubious and reject that a large part of a woman’s value is in her body size being comparable to that of a supermodel or that only women who fit that description appear physically beautiful, I can be quite aware of that and proclaim it as such and truly feel that I am sincere in that perception. Yet within the same hour, I can look in the mirror and grimace at some part of my own figure that does not seem to fit into the very standards I just disparaged and feel some sense of shame or inferiority because of it.
It’s possible I’ve actually done those very things. It may also be that I’m not unique as such.
Where do these standards come from? Who upholds them? How can those of us who intellectually reject them still feel affected by them on some level?
Before I talk more about this book in relation to such things, I want to back up and mention something I really liked about this anthology: its aesthetics. The first thing I noticed about Curvy Girls was how gorgeous it is. It has a riveting cover with bold colors and a beautiful design. (I’ll say up front that my only complaint was that I was dismayed as usual to see the tagline “Erotica for Women” appended to the title. As I’ve mentioned before, I find this phrase arbitrary at best, and it seems to me to undermine the potential appeal the book may have to unrestricted audiences.) I even found the inside font beautiful. Add in the charming little black lace pattern at the corners of the first page of each story, and I truly found that the aesthetic loveliness of this volume added to my overall delight with it!
As I have alluded to, I found what was inside magnificent as well. To return to my earlier musings, even if we eschew what seem to be our culture’s prevailing (and increasingly preposterous) standards about how a woman’s body should look—and how it is most beautiful—we still may find them manifesting in our experience, sometimes without our even noticing. Intellectual recognition, alas, is not the same as conscious assimilation.
Which is what I found so refreshing about this book: the stories here embody the understanding of this phenomenon—beyond the intellectual awareness, rejection, analysis of something that can still show up in our subconscious in ways we may not even be aware of. We’re aware of them here. These stories tend to come either from the angle of a larger woman who experiences comfort and contentment about that or from one who struggles with the standards postulated by an abstract society, bringing us as readers face to face with those unconscious judgments and compelling us to confront them from the inside out.
All of which I see as of great value.
These characters are not abstract. And there is no question that the lovers in this book find the protagonists sexy—breathtakingly so in many cases. The overt and often verbal appreciation the protagonists’ admirers have for their beauty mesmerized me in story after story. (I also want to add that I much appreciated the references to condoms in so many of them. Depiction of condom use is an intense preference of mine in fiction, and its inclusion invariably enhanced my appreciation of the story in question.)
I noticed early on that I found many of the stories in Curvy Girls more arousing than I’ve often found erotica. In general, I don’t read written erotica to get off, appreciating it rather because it explores and focuses on one of the areas I find most fascinating in life (sexuality, in case that wasn’t obvious). To be frank, I don’t know why these stories seemed to turn me on so much more than usual. It seemed there was something different about the feel, maybe the energy of them somehow. Did the authors put more into describing the attraction in the context of the theme, making it more arousing for some reason? Did the theme add some element that tended to lead the description to be different? I truly don’t know. I just know that I noticed it, and while I have been contemplating what the reason for it may be, I have not yet put my finger on it.
Regardless, kudos to the authors, I guess. ;) “First Come, First Served” by Lolita Lopez was simply one of the hottest stories I had read in some time. I found the absence of actual intercourse interestingly refreshing, and I felt the author’s capture of the attraction between the characters and the sex that did take place between them was beautifully done. “Decadence,” by Satia Welsh, changed my breathing as I read it—just flipping through it as I was composing this post started to distract me so much I had to put the book down! Nina Reyes elicited a similar effect for me with her “Excuses”; I was nearly driven to reading it one-handed, which I’ve rarely experienced from the written word. And editor Rachel offers “Big Girls Do Cry,” an intense tale of spanking and self-awareness mixed with a burning lust that sparked in me too as I read about yet another male protagonist I’d like to meet myself.
Of course, eroticism is not the only thing these stories have going for them. Lush prose, delightful entertainment, and skillful portrayals of the headiness and intensity of connection abounded, all of which I appreciated every bit as much as the heat. “Before the Autumn Queen” by Angela Caperton comprised some of the most captivating and resplendent description I had read in a while, and I was duly enchanted throughout. I was not surprised to find “Wenching” by Justine Elyot both sizzlingly hot and seamlessly rendered, not to mention amusingly entertaining. I have experienced most of what I have read by Ms. Elyot that way, and this delight of a story proved no exception. I found “In the Early Morning Light” by Kristina Wright a powerfully affecting narrative from the point of view of a brand-new mother and the bodily changes that have corresponded as such. The honesty and complexity of this tale still strike me now as I recall it. The book ends beautifully with Donna George Storey‘s “Happy Ending,” an uplifting tale of bodily and personal empowerment that makes its title fitting indeed.
While this book may be fiction, it seems to me that as with much fiction, it is reflective of some part of reality. Despite various media’s constant bombardment to the contrary, there are obviously individuals who perceive this way, who see non-supermodel-shaped bodies as individually beautiful and unique, and to whom it would make no more sense to fetishize such than it would captivating eyes or luxurious hair (not that those things can’t be experienced as fetishes, but fetishization has not commonly been perceived as their only potential attractiveness, which has sometimes seemed the case with larger-sized women).
On the back of this book, the extraordinary Jaclyn Friedman states, “This lush collection won’t just quicken your pulse, it’ll widen your definition of sexy.” I dare say I agree with her. The actualization in these stories, far beyond some kind of detached commentary or analysis, reaches the reader (or this reader anyway) on the same level, serving indeed the potential purpose of truly expanding one’s perspective—a feat neither small nor always easy. I truly commend the authors in this collection for doing striking and beautiful justice to its theme.
If you so desire (and of course, I highly recommend it!), you can pick up or download your copy of Curvy Girls on Amazon now. And you can follow the rest of the Curvy Girls virtual book tour from the book’s website right here. Thanks so much for stopping by, and happy reading! :)
Love,
Emerald
“But he thinks she’s as pretty as a picture when she wipes down tables in her apron strings, and sometimes he forgets a chorus ’cause she’s shining like a beauty on the silver screen…”
-Joe Diffie “Bigger Than the Beatles”
Open, Fearless, and Needed: Best Sex Writing 2012
That an anthology series called Best Sex Writing exists thrills me. Truly. There are few topics I feel the human species would benefit more from exploring, questioning, and opening to. The fact that those things all seem particularly lacking makes me even more excited to see a book—in this case, Best Sex Writing 2012, edited by Rachel Kramer Bussel and published by Cleis Press—devoted to inviting and displaying them in a multi-authored tapestry.
Between the pages of Best Sex Writing 2012 is rumination, information, and investigation of a society displaying, as I see it, a severe misguidedness around the book’s title subject. The fascinating exposition of “Sex, Lies, and Hush Money” by Katherine Spillar outlines for us (just in case anyone has forgotten) the corruption and hypocrisy that is alive and well in our political systems—largely resulting from, I would argue, our continued repression, distortion, and shame around sex.
I found Radley Balko’s “You Can Have Sex with Them; Just Don’t Photograph Them” painful to read (which is not a negative comment—it was one of the pieces I appreciated most in the book); my sense of wanting to do something to help put a stop to the literal insanity it described was activated from its first page. The seemingly small but important victory of seeing it recognized and reported on assuaged my distress a tiny bit. The suspense in the powerful, heartbreaking “An Unfortunate Discharge Early in My Naval Career” by Tim Elhajj was breathtaking to me, as was the reminder that “being [accused of being] a homosexual” in the United States military could be the basis of such suspense.
In “The Careless Language of Sexual Violence,” Roxanne Gay offers a profound elucidation I found so extraordinary I don’t know how to even sum it up here. It struck me deeply as something that needed to be said, and I’m grateful to Ms. Gay for saying it.
I had already read (and recommended here) Thomas Roche‘s “Men Who ‘Buy Sex’ Commit More Crimes: Newsweek, Trafficking, and the Lie of Fabricated Sex Studies.” As I said then, I found it incisive, comprehensive, and illuminating of the issues the piece was about and responding to. (A one-sentence case in point: “Trafficking continues because of corruption and poverty, not because there are no laws against it.”)
There are also what Rachel describes in her introduction as “more personal takes on sex [...] that aren’t about making a point so much as exploring what real-life sex is like in all its beauty, drama, and messiness.” To me, three of the most moving of this kind of piece were Joan Price‘s “Grief, Resilience, and My 66th Birthday Gift,” a striking slice of memoir interwoven with, as the title suggests, experiences of grief, vitality, love, and the beauty of connection—including with ourselves; Hugo Schwyzer‘s raw, insightful (and indeed rather hot in parts) “I Want You to Want Me,” which, while very personal, lays out a commentary on gender socialization I much appreciated; and “Losing the Meatpacking District: A Queer History of Leather Culture” by Abby Taller, which relays a compelling, poignant portrait of a time and place that is no longer.
All three of these pieces compelled me in a different way, enlisting empathy and softheartedness as they opened a part of themselves onto the page and paradoxically shone a light on universal levels of sexual—and human—experience.
The combination of this kind of personal memoir alongside the investigative exposition, irreverent humor, and incisive commentary also found in this book makes for a vastly varied volume of entertainment and thought provocation. The few things in the anthology that didn’t resonate with me did not decrease my overall appreciation of it; I indeed encountered perspectives that diverged from mine, and I see that as one of the values of a book like this. Certainly I was engaged and even energized by the eloquent, captivating articulations of perspectives in alignment with mine—but those that weren’t invited me to discern and articulate why, an opportunity which is not lost on me.
Ultimately, this book exemplifies something it seems to me we could use a lot more of: open, fearless discussion of sexuality in which we talk about it like we do so many other topics—with consideration, enthusiasm, respect, curiosity, interest, reverence, scrutiny, and maturity…rather than the degrees of pubescence and oppression I have found so woefully pervasive in our culture. Rachel asserts in her introduction that “the more we talk about the many ways sex moves us, the more we work toward a world where sexual shame, ignorance, homophobia, and violence are diminished.” I couldn’t agree more, and I thank the the editor, contributors, and publisher of Best Sex Writing 2012 for offering their time and attention to doing so.
Love,
Emerald
“Did you read the news today, they say the danger’s gone away, but I can see the fire’s still alight, burning into the night…this is the world we live in, and these are the names we’re given, stand up and let’s start showing just where our lives are going to…”
-Disturbed “Land of Confusion”
An Open Letter to Rush Limbaugh
March 3rd is International Sex Worker Rights Day. My post in honor of it is combined with a few other things I want to address and is in the form of an open letter to Rush Limbaugh.
Dear Mr. Limbaugh:
From what I have interpreted in the last week, it seems you do not like the idea of birth control being funded by health insurance companies. It further appears that you found it appropriate to speculate about the personal life of an individual who disagrees with you about that and spoke about it before members of Congress.
Do you have health insurance, Rush? Would it be safe to say that you feel you should be able to eat all the french fries you want and that your insurance should still pay for treatment for you were you to develop heart disease (I certainly do not wish this on you or anyone), and that if you did happen to experience a heart attack, insurance should pay for your medical care during and after that as well? If so, we are on the same page.
If not, then for whatever reason, we do appear to disagree. Not that I would describe the above situation as taxpayers being asked to satisfy the eating habits of radio personalities, but if we are going to have a system of health insurance, it seems appropriate to me that it should cover the health care needs of the people it insures—even if those health care needs seem influenced by the lifestyle choices the holders of it, citizens of a free and democratic republic, make.
You mentioned that you felt that Sandra Fluke, who spoke before a congressional forum about contraceptive coverage in relation to health insurance, was a “slut” and a “prostitute” because she she feels birth control pills should be covered by health insurance. “Slut,” of course, is a subjective term—since it seems to me it has no actual definition, it would be hard to claim it to be slanderous. Furthermore, some of us don’t see it as a denigrating label. You could call me a slut, for example, until you’re blue in the face, and it wouldn’t disquiet me in the least because I simply don’t perceive the word as an insult.
Similarly, I don’t see labeling someone a prostitute as an insult. In the case of that word, it does refer to an actual job, so the label could be incorrect. Claiming that I am a prostitute at this time, for example, would be incorrect, but it would hold about as much power to insult me as claiming I am an accountant. Both are erroneous, but I certainly don’t take offense to either.
Because we have ignorant, puritanical, and inappropriate laws in this country about it, however, prostitution is illegal. So stating that someone works as a prostitute is claiming that person does something illegal. Thus that, if not true, is slanderous. I wish Ms. Fluke all the best in introducing legal action against you as such should she choose to.
Probably you didn’t know that today, March 3rd, is International Sex Worker Rights Day. One of the things supporting that means to me is advocating for the decriminalization of prostitution so that one day what you said about Ms. Fluke would not be slanderous because 1) it wouldn’t be accusing someone of doing something illegal, and 2) the ignorance and judgment of collective society would have subsided so that what you said would not even be perceived as an insult.
Of course, the energy with which you said it would probably still make it an unsavory thing to say. It wasn’t the words but the judgmental and disrespectful energy with which it was said, the relatively unconscious place from which it came, that made it so unfortunate.
To be frank, it would seem to me that one who underwent what became a public challenge with substance addiction as you did would have developed more empathy both for the basic struggles of your fellow humans and also for those whose personal business is intruded upon by a culture that seems to find it okay to do so to those considered famous or public figures. Why that didn’t appear to happen, I don’t know, but it seems doubly sorrowful to me because I suspect it means you are suffering all the more in order to close your heart off to the natural development of empathy.
I don’t doubt that you struggle a lot. Anyone who treats others with the degree of vitriol and contempt I have observed in you almost certainly feels those things toward oneself, whether it is realized consciously or not. I wish you all the best with the struggles and challenges you experience. In truth, it is not actually hard for me to do so—I recognize that we are ultimately all one, and even when I feel enormous frustration with what I perceive to be the ignorance or unconsciousness someone displays, I am still aware that there is something much bigger than that.
The truth is, Rush, I suspect that someday you will perceive and feel true regret for the degree to which you’ve treated your fellow human beings with disrespect. It may be on your deathbed, perhaps before. Or, perhaps it will not happen at all. I just suspect it will. Remembering that reminds me of the compassion I feel for you, as true compassion (which I feel we all have the intrinsic capacity for, whether we recognize it or not) is compassion for everyone—it’s indivisible. I don’t want to intrude on your process, so I beg your pardon for saying that; it is not for me to speculate, really. It’s just something that has occurred to me as I have observed this situation.
I wish you all the best, and indeed I do plan to continue to have as much sex as I want, with however many partners as I want, as often as I want. That happens to not be the reason doctors have recommended birth control pills as part of my health care, but it is a choice I make just like many citizens who choose to eat french fries and still receive health care for heart and other diseases. As long as I work for or pay for health insurance, I expect it to cover my health care needs to the same degree it does the rest of the citizenry, regardless of what my employer finds appropriate.
Sincerely,
Emily McCay
aka Emerald
-LIVE “Transmit Your Love”
Hold This Space
Once again, it is December 17—the International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers.
My hope was and is to blog about this more here, but I have a graduation party to attend tonight for a friend of mine who has just finished law school, and I don’t have much time now before I have to leave to travel there. I did not want to let this day go by, however, without acknowledging the International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers here, so even though this post is not as extensive or complete as I wanted it to be (I may add more/finish it later), I offer reverent recognizance of this day as first proclaimed by Annie Sprinkle in 2003. I have had my red candle burning as I’ve been getting ready tonight, and I take a moment now to breath consciously in honor of the recognizance of this day, in reverence for all who have been involved in the intersection of sex work and violence, and in a wish for awakening for the same (including perpetrators) and for us all.
I also want to share this quote I encountered last night in a SWOP-Chicago press release:
“Sex workers are not targeted because sex work is inherently dangerous. Sex workers are targeted because perpetrators know prostitutes are afraid of law enforcement and won’t seek the aid of law enforcement until it’s too late. They are targeted because of the stigma surrounding sex work. This stigma is constantly regenerated in the way politicians, end-demand advocates, and media representatives talk about prostitution.”
Blessings and love to all.
Love,
Emerald
-Collin Raye “Not That Different”
As I See It
Fellow erotica author Shanna Germain posted on her blog yesterday a response to a recent article in the New York Times magazine. The article was about the author Nicholson Baker, who has penned, among other things, fiction of an erotic nature. Shanna, for her part, has called on those who also write erotic fiction to post a picture, if we so desire, that flouts the author’s opening description:
“Nicholson Baker does not look like a dirty-book writer. His color is good. His gaze is direct, with none of the sidelong furtiveness of the compulsive masturbator.”
Overall I found the exposition on Mr. Baker rather interesting. However, there were things I interpreted about the tone and implications from the article’s author (Charles McGrath) that I did not appreciate. Shanna quotes the above opening lines. In addition, I took exception to the following:
“What kind of person dreams up this stuff? It’s as funny as it is filthy and breathes new life into the tired, fossilized conventions of pornography in a way that suggests a deep, almost scholarly familiarity with the ancient tropes.”
Hmmm. Does it seem so hard to imagine someone who appreciates contemplation devoting his/her/their attention to the arcane subject of sexuality? As though, oh, the subject held some kind of significance or interest to the species or something?…
And:
“As Rosenthal pointed out, Baker is no ordinary, adult-bookstore pornographer. In addition to what might be called his sex trilogy, he is the author of six other novels, none of them racy in the least.”
This might not be meant this way, but the way I read that is as though it should elicit surprise or astonishment that someone who devotes attention at times to the subject of sex could also then feel drawn to and expound on other subjects in other ways with other tones. This, of course, would presumably apply to almost all adults outside an artistic context.
I feel less incensed now than when I first read the piece, but I do feel the article is loaded with what seem to me shallow assumptions about the artistic exploration of sexuality, especially coupled with other artistic exploration (as though those who write or express artistically about sex would not dream of or have the capacity to express similarly about other subjects). Truly, are we not past this kind of ignorance, pubescence, prejudice, or whatever may account for these kinds of seemingly un-nuanced or, as Shanna said, uninformed perceptions?
Here’s a gaze for you, Mr. McGrath:
Emerald “In libraries and railway stations, in books and banks, in the pages of history…I recognize myself in every stranger’s eyes…”
-Roger Waters “5:06 AM (Every Stranger’s Eyes)”
Then As Now
“But paradise, we found, is always frail; against man’s fear will always fail…”-From the narrated poem in the opening of Dangerous Beauty
The movie is Dangerous Beauty. The screenplay is adapted from the book The Honest Courtesan, a biography by Margaret Rosenthal of Veronica Franco, sixteenth-century Venetian writer/poet and courtesan. Ms. Franco lived, and thus the events in the movie and the time period in which they are contextualized occurred, 450 years ago—a time so far in the distant past it may seem archaic or hard to conceptualize in light of how different human society is now.
Except it’s not. Different, that is. As I finished watching Dangerous Beauty for the first time that day last year, I was struck by how much, on some level, we have not changed.
Now indeed, I will say first that there are things that have on some level shifted or rearranged such that our gender roles, for example, seem less strict, and of course I appreciate that. At this point and in this location on the earth, I have additional options as a woman to survive financially beyond marrying, becoming a nun, or working as a courtesan or prostitute. There are practical ways in which women in many parts of the world have far more opportunities for financial independence now than they did in sixteenth-century Venice. This of course calls for acknowledgement, and I duly extend it. My personal appreciation for such is profound, and to not acknowledge that would be disingenuous and inappropriate.
That withstanding, however, I would argue that throughout our collective civilization, deep-seated and unconscious perceptions and distortions still exist that relegate us in very fundamental ways to the same as we were then. We’re dressed up a little bit differently—but we’re the same. So much so that it’s staggering.
Marriage is still a contract (if in doubt, observe phenomena such as alimony and the state’s having anything to do with whom is “allowed” to marry), and though what we tend to associate with romantic love seems more of a reason to marry now than then, people still feel political, financial, or other reasons to get married. Marriage itself is still expected—monogamy is still the default, the standard for people’s lives in romantic relationship. Affairs still exist, and we still pretend not to acknowledge their prevalence or potential complexity as any invitation to examine the possibility that monogamy and marriage are perhaps not the ideal configurations for all individuals.
“The Church” still inserts itself into public affairs—sometimes via official governments—claiming an esoteric authority and the position to judge the general populace according to the standards it chooses to set. We are still compelled by war. Poverty, disease, populist unrest remain. There is still rampant evidence of nationalism, classism, sexism, and political manipulation. We are still encouraged to follow the rules, whatever they may be, and not question or flout them lest we interrupt the fragile illusion of whatever arbitrary perspective of “reality” our ego-based selves have created and think they feel comfortable with.
In Dangerous Beauty, when the plague begins to run rampant through Venice, the townspeople/collective society turn on what is considered the decadence and indulgence of the city, of which courtesans are perceived to be squarely in the middle. A following of religiously oriented purveyors develops and overtly blames “those who tempt us” with “fornication and carnal practices” for the “God”-inflicted downfall of the republic.
In response to a protest that the Inquisition has appeared in Venice, the doge (presiding figure of the republic at the time) responds, “Fifty-six thousand people are dead. The living want answers. They may be the wrong answers, but they want them just the same.”
To me this line virtually epitomizes that which has not changed in four and a half centuries. Throughout society there are examples of selective intervention in human rights abuses, astounding hypocrisy in application of laws, and scapegoating of cultures, people, entities in order to get “answers” that a part of us finds tolerable internally and/or in response to the cognitive dissonance in us.
What seems most concerning to me about this uncanny similarity to a time centuries ago is not just the clarity with which it seems that we are such a parallel reflection of it but that we do not seem to realize that. We truly think we are different. That things were so primitive then, that they were so inhibited, their roles so strictly defined. We think we are so advanced because we have skyscrapers and spaceships and smartphones. But we still use that technological capacity to create ways to destroy each other and ourselves—which tells me we are not.
It seems obvious to me that despite our apparent advances and some level of progress in social redresses, under the surface the same prejudices, constraints, ignorance, and fear that formed what was seen in sixteenth-century Venice is with us now and still forming the same things. The seemingly obvious things like racism, classism, xenophobia, sexism are outcrops, manifestations, of what has remained the same—which is our ignorance of ourselves. We have not awakened enough to be consistently aware of our true nature. We are not conscious of the unconditional love that is the deepest level of ourselves and the innate oneness of the universe.
Underlying this lack of awareness is the resistance and refusal to examine ourselves, to see that it is what is inside ourselves that may be tormenting us rather than projecting it onto a perceived external. Repression is one of the key ingredients in this phenomenon, and repression of a fundamental instinct—such as, say, the sexual one—is one of this phenomenon’s very bedrocks.
As in the movie, many of the above-described circumstances and the societal responses decrying and attacking them have to do with sex. All over the world, a conservative populace still behaves as though perceived “immorality” around sexuality is or will be the downfall of civilization. “The Church” (represented by fundamentalist perspectives of virtually all major religions) still bewails “fornication and carnal practices” and proclaims our collective suffering “punishment” for a culture steeped in “sin.” These perspectives seem to see open sexuality rather than denouncement, vilification, and repression as dangerous, sinful, and undesirable.
Why would this be? As depicted so beautifully in Dangerous Beauty, sexuality is one of the preeminent paths to love (not just romantic, but love in the universal sense), self-awareness, Divinity, connection, gratitude, openness, and beauty. Then as now, this aspect is so fundamental to us that it instills the kind of fear that has through the ages attracted measures of denouncement, repression, fear, violence, and desperation in the face of truly experiencing and interacting with it because it is so impossibly close to us, so unavoidably reflective of ourselves—we cannot not see ourselves if we are truly and openly acknowledging and examining the sexual impulse within us. It forces us to face ourselves, and to truly do that is something we have found, probably throughout our human existence, excruciatingly difficult to do. Sexuality, our instinctive drive for what it represents, for pleasure and beauty and openness and love, is so close that we must either surrender to it or do everything in our power to control it. Yes, there are measures in between, but the sexual impulse does not give up—it doesn’t have that capacity. No matter how we try to control it, sexuality just is. It’s how we be with it that is the opportunity.
Sexual repression appeared rampant at the time of Dangerous Beauty‘s depiction (and highly encouraged by social structures at that time). It appears rampant to me now (and highly encouraged, perhaps in superficially different ways, by social structures currently). Am I suggesting that a large part of the fear, hatred, and relentless harm we do each other around the world at this time is based, at least in part, on sexual repression?
I am.
At a key point in the film, Veronica Franco’s character states,
“I confess I find more ecstasy in passion than in prayer. Such passion is prayer. . . . I confess I hunger still to be filled and enflamed, to melt into the dream of us, beyond this troubled place—to where we are not even ourselves.”
Those lines gave me chills the first time I watched the movie, and they did again yesterday when I watched it most recently. I would certainly not say that everyone should agree with them and feel the same way—we are all unique and experience things as such. I do wish, though, truly and deeply, that we would see the offering in them and open to discover whatever truth resonates uniquely and authentically within each of us.
It is in that, it seems to me, that true progress lies.
Love,
Emerald
-Adam Lambert “Aftermath”
An Extraordinary Gathering (and a Gathering of the Extraordinary)
One week ago right now (that is to say, last Monday at 1:00 in the morning) I was in the bar of the hotel where the MOMENTUM: Making waves in sexuality, feminism & relationships through new media conference was held, engaging in a social hour(s…) with conference organizers Tess Danesi, Diva, and a number of the other conference attendees/presenters.
The moment I drove away from the hotel, and thus the conference, that night, I started missing it.
I experienced MOMENTUM as so extraordinary and magnificent it’s felt hard, really, to recreate it in words. The general energy of the gathering of people focused on, appreciative of, and fascinated by sexuality seemed palpable to me; I experienced this energy as vibrant, refreshing, and consistent throughout the conference, starting even before any of its official events had begun. It was like being in an energetic hot tub. In addition, Robin Sampson/Erobintica and a friend of hers came down to stay with me to attend the conference, which was an added pleasure of the weekend.
I do not feel it is an exaggeration to say that I found all of the workshops and presenters I attended/observed astonishing. The opening panel, composed of Tristan Taormino, Carol Queen, Jenny Block, Reid Mihalko and moderated by Lynn Comella, struck me as positively electrifying—serving as an appropriate tone-setter as such for the rest of the weekend. As I had followed the list of presenters in the weeks leading up to MOMENTUM’s beginning, I felt delighted and impressed by the figures Tess and Diva were securing to present there. Though I knew I felt excited to see/meet so many of them in person, I was truly blown away by the power and energy I experienced when the time came from the presentations I had the privilege of experiencing.
Saturday began for me with Megan Andelloux‘s workshop on educating about sexual health and pleasure. I’ve known of Megan since the story of the controversy about her Center for Sexual Pleasure and Health was reported on Good Vibrations Magazine in 2009, resulting in my immediate support for her endeavor and its success. Shortly after that I became acquainted with her online, and it was a delight to get to meet her in person and certainly to see her present. Also on Saturday I had the unexpected fascination of attending the impromptu presentation by Constance Penley, who was at the conference and filled in for another speaker who had canceled. Constance served as an expert witness in last year’s obscenity trial of John Stagliano, and I found it utterly riveting to hear her behind-the-scenes account and perspective of such.
Early Sunday morning saw a panel I found starkly fascinating and informative in Sex Positive Interventions: The Feminist Sex Wars and Beyond presented by Lynn Comella and Carol Queen. Later Sunday, having found his energy distinctly compelling during the opening panel Friday night, I attended the presentation of Reid Mihalko, my meeting of whom was one of my favorite parts of the conference. The conference closed Sunday afternoon with an open-to-the-public discussion from Tristan Taormino and Susie Bright, which it probably goes without saying I found magnificent.
After all the official offerings were said and done, it was with the social gathering at the bar Sunday evening that the conference weekend ended for me. This was one of my favorite aspects of the conference—the opportunity to personally interact with the others there (this happened Saturday night too, when Rachel Kramer Bussel was still in town and I got to see her—and eat one of the cupcakes she brought!—at MOMENTUM headquarters [i.e., Tess and Diva’s hotel suite] for a while). Here I got to spend much more time with Tess, Diva, Lynn, Reid, and others as well as connect for the first time with the lovely and delightful Greg DeLong, co-founder and designer of (the gorgeous!) njoy sex toys.
At one of my former day jobs at a nonprofit dedicated to supporting and protecting reproductive health and rights, we were asked at a board meeting one time to go around the room and introduce ourselves and say something we found inspiring. When it got to me, I said that I found it inspiring to be in a room full of people that I knew cared about this issue as much as I did—so much that they would devote their livelihood or time or resources to it and convene at this gathering where embodying and expressing such were at the forefront of our consciousness. Historically I have tended to profoundly appreciate being in the presence of such gatherings, to witness physically the existence of people who experience the same intensity and clarity about a subject that feels so important to me.
That’s how I felt at MOMENTUM. And immediately after I left Sunday night, I missed that camaraderie, the feeling/knowing I was surrounded physically by people who care as much about exploring, discussing, and appreciating sexuality as I do and the warm feeling of knowing I would be going back to that and surrounded by it again the next day. I relate to the description found here that fellow conference attendee (presenter, actually) Leela wrote about this phenomenon.
In summary, what an amazing conference. A result, of course, of amazing creators and organizers Tess and Diva, to whom I extend profound and enormous thanks—not only am I so appreciative of and impressed by what they created and convened, I am truly thrilled that I had the opportunity to personally be a part of it.
I can hardly wait for MOMENTUM 2012.
Love,
Emerald
-LIVE “All I Need”
In Praise of Protection
In the United States, we are currently in the middle of National Condom Week, which is recognized in the U.S. during the week of Valentine’s Day (February is National Condom Month). Thus it seemed an appropriate time to post my ode to this rubber entity I love and appreciate so much.
Several weeks ago the beautiful and inspiring Nikki Magennis initiated a series of posts honoring the condom on her blog. I deeply appreciated the sentiment and much enjoyed reading the lovely pieces, many of which were fiction flashers, she offered on the topic. (In fact, she has now created an entire blog devoted to the loveliness of the condom—check out Rubber Soul!)
In one of Nikki’s posts, she linked to this piece, in which three authors discuss their respective perspectives about including the mention of condom usage in the fiction they write. The piece is specifically about M/M romance, but I myself frankly don’t see distinctions either among which populations it is more appropriate to use condoms or in which genres their use is appropriately included/displayed—to me condom usage seems appropriate across the board in partnered sex unless the partners are monogamous with each other and have been STI/STD-tested*—so I read it as a general post about condom usage/mentions in fiction.
In the comments, I saw a number of assertions of something I have heard before (in regard to both erotic fiction and pornography of other media): These are “fantasies,” so the realism of condom usage is not necessary and/or desired and may even seem misplaced.
I feel very differently about this. The first thing that strikes me, I think, is that I don’t feel I write erotica just to write “fantasy” (this may be different in the romance genre, which the aforementioned article appeared to be more related to). I write it because sex interests me, and its inclusion in life is what I want to reflect in my writing—the ways sex enlightens, challenges, connects us, the plethora of sensations and emotions we feel around it, how it shows us things about ourselves, others, society. For me, the idea that I’m writing an “escape” and thus should not or would not want to include real-life concerns in what I’m writing does not resonate. To me, in fact, it feels more accurate to say the opposite would be true.
As I mentioned in the interview Ashley Lister did with me for the Erotica Readers and Writers Association, I have been carrying condoms in my purse since I started having sex. Rarely am I anywhere without them. This has of course been quite deliberate, and I have made use of condoms I’m carrying with me numerous times. Often the characters I’ve written have adopted this trait as well, and as I mentioned in the interview, while some readers may find this unrealistic or “too” convenient, the first part of this paragraph may show why I do not.
It thus seems odd to me to not include this aspect of sexuality in what I write. I am, as I mentioned, aiming to write about the integral nature of sexuality in life, and to me condoms are a significant part of that. Since I myself have never found condoms a “mood-killer” or any such thing, I have not aimed to portray them as such in what I’ve written (which is not to say one would never interpret them as such—I have no control of course over how my work is interpreted). Rather, I have mentioned them generally the same way I have experienced them in my life—matter-of-factly, as a requisite and understood aspect of sex. I myself have often found condoms sexy: they offer a protection I appreciate indescribably, and they tend to represent that I will soon be, well, having sex. :)
Also on the aforementioned post, I saw comments such as this one, from someone who posted as Tam:
Don’t expect me to care about “real” characters who only act like “real” people when it’s convenient and I have to ignore everything else. If I’m sitting there thinking “what kind of idiot has bareback alley sex with a stranger” I’m not thinking “that was really well written and wow, that was a funny line and I loved the description of the garbage bin.”
I will admit I feel relieved to see comments like this, not because of a vested interest in regard to my own writing or because I want readers to agree with me, but rather because I have sometimes felt there has been an underlying idea permeating society that condoms somehow “aren’t sexy” and aren’t really important or desired or used in real sexual interaction. I find that very disturbing, and probably in large part given my history as a reproductive rights and health activist, I have tended to place a lot of importance on the open acknowledgement and embrace of condoms as an essential and desirable component of modern sexual landscape. It is both because I feel no desire whatsoever to contribute to the perpetuation of the idea that condoms are “un-sexy” or “kill the mood” or somehow decrease the quality of sex in any of the depictions of sex I offer (including in video porn) as well as the simple reality I have experienced of the connection between condoms and partnered sex that leaving out the mention of them in writing erotic fiction feels jarring and inappropriate to me.
That all being said, none of this is to say any or everyone else, writer or reader, should feel the same way I do. I am simply stating my perception and experience of condom use in life and fictitious portrayal and why I have made the invariably deliberate references to condoms in my writing that I have. On the subject of fiction, incidentally, I will say that applying a rule that characters must use condoms does not seem appealing to me. Characters are characters; they do what they do. To state what a character in fiction must do before the character has even been born or created (even by the author) seems dubious and intrusive to me. As Nikki said, it is not that I support any installation of such a rule; rather, I am stating why I personally find it called for to include condom use and the reference to it in sexually explicit fiction and why I have chosen to do so (as well as why I find condoms sexy!).
Happy belated Valentine’s Day, and happy National Condom Week and Month!
Love,
Emerald
-Rob Thomas “Real World ’09″
