Oh, so the worst thing you will read all day.

Posted today on Shakesville was this, which is a link to an article about a "controversial" new book that postulates that feminism has ruined male-female relations and that women need to stop "acting like men" at home and give up on this whole "equal" thing because "men don't fall in love with equals."

If you've got enough sanity points, it's worth reading the article, if only because I cannot make this shit up, y'all.

Feminism does in fact tell women that we do not have to act demure, "sexually available", "complimentary", etc. and so on. 

But feminism does not tell us that we MUST not act that way.  The beauty of feminism is that we have the ability to be individual people, and decide what femininity means to us on our own terms - so far as any of us can have our own terms, growing up and living in the miasma of patriarchy.

Likewise, feminism does not proscribe narrow roles for men and say all men like THIS and think THIS and do THIS and are capable of THIS.  Which is what the authors are saying.  And yet, feminists are man-haters?

Additionally, you know, I am all for clear communication in relationships.  Part of that is because I try to do it myself and I really like the results, part of it is because I think communicating respectfully with people is just part of being a decent person and I have this thing about not being an asshole.  And it chaps my ass that these authors can advocate a healthy relationship skill like communication in the same mothafuckin BREATH as they advocate that women should tone their personalities and accomplishments down so they don't hurt the menz' precious fee-fees.

And while we're at it, could this book get any more hetero-normative?  The entire QUILTBAG community, where are they in all this?  Oh right, patriarchy tells us that only straight relationships matter.  And only those where the woman is properly "sexually available" and "complimentary" (no, the misspelling is not mine).

Oh also, what about relationships that aren't dyads?  Wait wait wait, those don't exist either; sorry my silly ladybrane forgot.

This is the same old WHAT ABOUT THE MENZ LADIES YOU BETTER STAY DEMURE ON THE GROUND WITH THAT BOOT ON YOUR NECK OR ELSE bullshit.  And it is absolutely galling that they mixed in a little bit of actual relationship advice to, what, make it more palatable?  Make it more mainstream?  I don't even know.

Is it possible someone will read this and chime to the "communication" part and it'll change their lives for the better?  Sure.  But why should they have to swallow all of that other shit to get there?

Being a feminist kinkster

A thought occurred to me the other day:

But if it's my sexual agency, my power - isn't it mine to give away if I want?

If, as per feminism, I am an agent of my own free will, if I own my own agency, if I have the power to make choices for myself, why can't I sometimes choose - CHOOSE - to give that power away to someone else?


As has probably now been made quite clear, I identify as a feminist.  I firmly believe that I am the equal of anyone on the planet - not the same, but equal - that I am fully capable of making my own choices, that no one has the right to take those choices away from me.  I believe that I am a person, too - and that we are all people, even the ones I don't like.


What's probably painfully obvious is that I also identify as kinky.  And while as a switch, there are definitely times when I want to be giving out the beatings, more often than not I want to be on the receiving end.  (And sometimes, I just want to go to sleep oh god just let me sleep.)  (Who am I kidding, most times I want to sleep.  Mmm, sleep.)

And I've spent a lot of time, well, anguishing over these two parts of my identity and trying to bring them in to alignment with the whole of me.  It's not an easy fit for me.  Being less than anyone doesn't go down easy.  This entry is the result of a lot of reading, and a fair number of years of thinking distilled.

I see no signs of being finished with the whole "cohesive identity" thing yet; I fully expect that to take a lifetime.  And there's a lot to unpack, I think, with kink and the intersection with the culture I live in.  (Note to self:  write about kink intersectionality at some point.)

But, my will, my power, my agency, belong to me - inasmuch as they can belong to anyone raised in the miasma of the patriarchy.  I may not own every aspect of it, and I may not understand owning it completely.  I may not even fully know how far that agency goes. After all, I was raised under the memo that I don't own that, that I am subject to someone else's will.  But even if that ownership is a work in progress, I am choosing - there's that word again - to act as if it isn't.  To own, in totality, what I have, and to act as if I do completely own my own agency.

So therefore, if the choices are mine, why can't I give them away?

But, and this is a big but, the important part is that I am in fact choosing.  It is, incontrovertably, my choice to give away my agency, or part of it, to Jay.  Sometimes.  Under certain circumstances.  Where I am completely involved and invested in negotiating what those circumstances are, and just what choices I'm giving up.

There's a huge, vast difference for me in choosing to give away  my choices, my power, and having them taken away from me.  Having my choices taken away from me, my freedom as a person taken away, happens every day, in big ways and small - from court rulings and laws enacted that take away from my bodily autonomy and limit my access to reproductive healthcare, to the person on the street who says "Oh honey you really shouldn't wear that".  It's a kind of theft; it's a violation.

But it's a different feeling and experience than voluntarily giving up a choice, or a group of choices, or a fair number of choices.  It's different when it's a conscious choice.  Regardless of what informs or motivates that choice.

So.  If it's mine - and I have to function as and believe that it is - why can't I give it away?

On the notion of consent and personal responsibility

Okay, this has come up a lot lately, all over the internets, and I've been leaving a lot of comments about it, so clearly it's time to write an entry about it.

DEAR INTERNETS:

First, go read this entry, so that you have the basic vocabulary you'll need to understand this post.  It's okay, I'll wait.  (For extra credit, read everything on this page.)

Done?  Good.

So let me break this down for you all.  The person at fault in a sexual assault, regardless of what that sexual assault is, is the person doing the assaulting.

Additionally:  If you do not have clear, explicit, enthusiastic consent from a person you're interacting with, you're assaulting them.

(Cue trolls regarding my tone, also cue trolls regarding taking personal responsibility.)

Here's the thing about taking personal responsibility.  Regardless of what personal responsibility I do or do not undertake, I am still not responsible for other people's actions.  If you want to do something to or with me, I should be consenting to that.  If I'm not, you're assaulting me and need to fuck off and leave me alone.

That goes regardless of what clothing I wear - since clothing can't give consent on my behalf for anything.  That goes regardless of what bars, clubs, restaurants, venues, or streets I visit - since the only consent I have clearly given is to be in that place.  That goes regardless of what activities I undertake - since the only consent I have clearly given is to be doing said activity and nothing else.

For example!  If I am riding the subway, here is the list of things I have explicitly consented to:

1. Riding the subway.

Here is the list of things I have not explicitly consented to:

1. Conversation.  With anyone.
2. Being groped or otherwise sexually assaulted, including being flashed.
3. Being punched or otherwise hit.
4. Being hit on (see also:  conversation).
5. Being stared at as if I were an object specifically put there for your amusement, entertainment, etc.
6. Anything else that is not riding the subway.

See how that works?  Here, I'll do another one for you.  I'm a dancer.  I dance ballroom, I dance in clubs, I dance socially.  When I am out dancing, here is the list of things that I have consented to when I have walked in the door to the venue:

1. Being at the venue.
2. Probably being asked to dance.

Note how being at the venue does not mean I have consented to dance with you specifically.

If you do ask me to dance, and I accept, thereby giving my consent, here is what I have consented to:

1. Dancing with you at this point in time.

See that?  Okay, now here is the list of things I have not consented to by being at the venue and consenting to dance with you:

1. Talking while dancing.
2. Being groped.
3. Being humped.
4. Going home with you.
5. Having a drink with you.
6. Being surrounded by your friends.
7. Dancing with you the rest of the night.
8. Having sex with you.
9. Taking you home.
10. Having sex with you on the dance floor.
11. Being touched by you in any way that is not prescribed by the dance (in ballroom, you have to touch in certain places/ways)
12. Anything else that is not dancing with you at this specific point in time.

Have I made myself clear?

Unfortunately, we live in a culture that gives us lessons like "if a girl's wearing a short skirt, she's a slut", and "sluts all want it, no matter what they say".  Please be assured, these lessons are wrong, so wrong, so wrong I can't even tell you.  I got the same lessons as everyone else.

But here's the thing.  Even though we all were taught these lessons, we are not obligated to follow them.  If anything, we're obligated to unlearn them and not follow them, because they're fucking wrong and lead directly to things like rape.

And because of those lessons we all got, I can take all the personal responsibility in the world - never going to a club, never going dancing, always wearing modest clothes - hell, wearing a burka - never walking alone at night, learning self-defense, all of those sorts of things - and it is still possible for me to be sexually assaulted.  As in that link I posted earlier, the only way I can ever truly prevent my self from being assaulted is to never be in a room with a rapist or person who commits sexual assault, which is kind of fucking difficult seeing as how they don't all have nice big signs on their foreheads alerting me to the fact that they are in fact the kind of person who would assault someone.  Because we teach people that it's okay to rape.  It's okay to assault.  That clothes can give consent, that sluts are out there and just asking for it, that you're more of a man the more sex you have.

(cue trolls about how well then obviously I want everyone to just never interact)

Here's the other thing.  None of this precludes my being asked.  None of this precludes you trying to strike up a conversation while we're dancing or riding the subway, none of this precludes your asking me if you can buy me a drink, none of this precludes you asking me if I'd be interested in going home with you, none of this precludes your asking me if I'm interested in making out, fucking, doing anything else.  Asking is not the problem.  The problem is either, you don't ask, you assume, or, you do ask, I don't consent, and you go ahead anyway.

If you strike up a conversation with me, and I don't immediately jump right in and participate?  I'm not consenting to the conversation.  If you ask me in the club if I want to go home with you, and I don't immediately enthusiastically agree that's a great idea?  It's because I don't think it's a great idea, and I'm not consenting.  If we're making out, getting all hot and heavy, and you put your hand in my pants and I don't immediately moan, start grinding, say "oh yes" or otherwise make it really, really fucking clear that I liked that, I'm not actually consenting to that.  If you continue to converse with me, or continue to try to convince me to go home with you, or keep your hand in my pants, fuck you, I haven't consented.

If we are dancing, and you figure it's okay to hump me?  If we're in the club and you assumed we're going home?  If you're sitting next to me at the subway and figure it's okay to just talk at me?  If we're making out and you figure that means clearly I want some piv sex?  Fuck you.  I haven't consented to any of the things you've figured on or assumed.   Don't give me this "grey area"  or "misunderstanding" bullshit that I see so often.  If you are paying a modicum of attention to the world, and are at all a decent person, it should be pretty fucking easy for you to figure out if the person you're doing things with is consenting.  And if it is at all not clear?  You can fucking ask, and in fact, are obligated to.

The person doing the initiating is obligated to make absolutely sure they have consent to continue before continuing.

See how that works now kids?

Here's the other thing about consent:  capitulation is not consent.  For example, if someone is attempting to rape me, and I figure I have better odds of surviving and being less physically injured if I just let them rape me, rather than try to fight them off, that does not mean that I have consented to sex with them.  It means they are raping me, and I have capitulated out of survival instinct.

And here's the last thing about personal responsibility:  the person who needs to take some fucking personal responsibility in an assault is the person doing the assaulting. 

LOVE, FRENCH

Once again beaten

The intersection of feminism and kink has come up a lot this past week in the blogosphere - at least the parts I frequent - and naturally, someone has already posted and included a lot of the thoughts I have.

Not all of them, but a lot of them.

Anyway, I highly recommend that y'all read this over at Sugarbutch.

On maturity

I wasn't kidding when I said that 2009 was the year of men in my life. There's a lot to unpack with that, so I'm going to try to not blow the entire load in one entry because that would be silly (blogging hang-ups: I haz them), but I do want to talk about it.

First and foremost, Jay and I got married early this year. That didn't really change our relationship (except legally), I don't think. We've been together for most of the past 10 years (ten years! TEN YEARS, dear god, ten years). We've lived together, lived apart, shared bills, slept in the same bed practically since we met each other, been to each other's family gatherings and holidays and weddings and funerals, and been a linked pair in most of our family's and friends' minds for a long time now.

People keep asking me how it feels to be married, as if it were some life-altering totally radical change in our relationship. I don't have an answer for them, because it did not radically alter our relationship. We giggle that we're married, and are ridiculous entertained by referring to each other as "husband" and "wife". Yes, we're twelve, what of it? But the fundamentals of our relationship have not changed. I refer to him as my partner for a number of reasons, but first and foremost because that's what he is. We've both worked hard - damned hard - to have a relationship of equals, and just because cultural baggage says we're not, doesn't mean I want that.

What it has changed, however, is our relationship to other people.

Things that bother me, version 6742

1. People who don't pay attention. Seriously. Unfortunately, I work with a lot of people who don't pay attention. Most often, it takes the form of asking me the same question multiple times. This is especially annoying when, before you could even ask the question, I sent you an email with documentation which, should you choose to read it and retain some information, will answer your question. I mean, I understand people forget. Hell, I do it all the time. But forget one week after I sent you that email? Pay. the fuck. attention. asshat.
   
   
   
   
   
2. Sanctimonious gestures. This came up from Manolo for the Brides, which is part of the superfantastic group of Manolo blogs, most of which I read obsessively regardless of actual relevance to my life. Anyway, I am firmly on the side of the blogger here - giving a donation to charity in lieu of favors - and then telling your guests that you did it - is a sanctimonious piece of show-offery and is, quite frankly, bullshit. Look dude, I don't care if you want to give to charity. That's your money, your business. I don't even care which charity or charities you support. But when you drag me in to it - whether my name was given to the charity or not - dude, now you're just a prick. I couldn't care less about favors. I do care about pharisaic gestures.
   
   
   
   
   
3. Books that treat kink like a sickness. I admit, I read a lot of crap paperbacks. Whatever, they're cheap and very escapist. I happen to like Kay Hooper's SCU novels. A lot. But I really hate that in one of them, one of the murder victims has a pretty sweetly equipped dungeon in his basement, and it's referred to as "sick", "twisted", "perverted", etc. and so on. And how one of the other characters says "It's not something most women would enjoy." Okay, one, BDSM is not, in and of itself, sick. Please make the distinction between BDSM in general, and what this guy did in particular - which, given that he was 30-something and his partner was 12, is in fact pretty fucked up. What two consenting non-abusing adults do in their bedroom is not sick. Sex is not sick, toys are not sick, playing with sensations is not sick, for fuck's sake.
   
   And finally...
   
   
   
   
   
4. Making assumptions about what I like, just because I have tits. Just because I appear to be female, does not mean I like "what most women like". For example, I happen to like kink! In fact, after the Flea, I'm discovering that a lot of women happen to like kink, and a lot of my friends do, too. Surprise! I also don't like diamond rings, white dresses, dresses in general, and fancy luncheons. (Can you tell I've been reading a few books about the commercialization of American weddings lately? Fascinating how fucked-up it all is.) I don't like a lot of perfumes (I'm allergic to most of them), I don't like receiving "girly" gifts (please don't give me scented or otherwise fancy soaps or lotions; I won't use them, because I don't like how a lot of them smell), I really hate bachelorette parties (and no, bachelorette really is not a word), I really hate shopping, and quite honestly, I would rather shoot myself than do a lot of stereotypical female things. I like what I like, regardless of its traditional gender role. Please stop making assumptions about me, it gets really annoying.