As far as I’m concerned, great sex is a function of trust, affection, candid communication, and, above all, fun.It’s a delicate balance.A fragile ecosystem.If I were any good at math, I’d draw a diagram or something, but alas, I majored in writing.So I draw the line when I’m not having fun anymore.Simple and easy to communicate. I expect my partner to understand and respect that.Because if you’re not concerned with whether I’m enjoying sex or willing to ask me if I’m having fun while you’re fucking me then, um, you shouldn’t be fucking me.There’s the door, dude, happy trails to ya.
It took a long time to get there (after all, commuting from New Jersey makes anything in New York ten times harder) but I arrived, in sandals and my favorite dress. The Hollaback! launch in Brooklyn on Thursday, July 8 was an intense celebration, with over 100 hearts gathered for the same cause. There was a raffle, iPhone covers for sale- and I was doing my best to push them, thank you very much- and even booze.
Street harassment is described by Hollaback! as “one of the most pervasive forms of violence against women,” and not many people would argue: as the ladies of THE LINE joined me in what we dubbed a “VIP Lounge,” we were able to laugh about a worry we all had getting to Southpaw: would we be harassed on the way? But street harassment isn’t funny, or light. As Emily May said in her speech, those who are street harassed have few options: walk on and feel victimized, or speak up and risk the escalation of violence from verbal to physical. For many people- of all genders and backgrounds- street harassment is a real and worrisome element of our public lives. And, as Hollaback! correctly pinpoints: “if street harassment is okay, then violence against women is okay. And that simply isn’t okay.”
The connection between street harassment and violence against women is obvious: both are tools used to constrict women’s public space and make them feel lesser and endangered in the public sphere, both occur without consent and imply control, danger, and risk of harm, and both are performances of hegemonic gender paradigms that force women to be objectified, judged by their physicality, and publicly shamed out of control of their own environments.
It is very much so worth promoting the action of Hollaback! not only for street harassment, but for violence everywhere. Do not stand by. Do not stay quiet. Do not walk on. Take action and make everyone- including yourself and your loved ones- safer, more comfortable, and more empowered. Hollaback! is capitalizing on one of the most powerful forces, I believe, in history: voices. By collecting stories and showing our might in numbers, in data, in maps, and in attitude, Hollaback! is going to win the fight against street harassment the same way THE LINE aims to fundamentally change the way people think about sex.
Stand up for what you believe in, but most important, always stand up for yourself.
I have noticed a disturbing trend among women: we do not like to admit we have sex.
Even with “Sex and the City” films galore and Cosmopolitan magazine hitting newsstands every month, women struggle with straight up saying they have sex. I have no problem telling people I have sex; I don’t get shy or embarassed about it. Sex is a normal human behavior that almost everyone does at some point, so why act otherwise?
I’ve noticed the lack of admission that one has sex when I go to the doctor’s office. The first question I’m always asked at the doctor’s office is, “Are you sexually active?” I answer yes. Most women do not answer questions or ask questions about sex to their doctors honestly and openly because they are embarrassed or ashamed that they even have an “active” sex life.
The silence around sex is a product of the slut/whore dichotomy in our culture: women are viewed as virginal or sluts, with no room in between. So even though women have sex, we have to act like we don’t- because people want us to. The whole thing is incredibly stupid and problematic, and is evidence of the double standard women who have sex are subjected to. And it’s dangerous: women who are afraid to talk about sex are also likely not to ask for information about birth control or STIs, and they are also likely to resist tests or treatments for STIs. Rape is also a product of that dichotomy: women are labeled “sluts” or told that they “wanted it” if they’re sexually experienced, especially if that experience was with their rapist. There is a really fucked up belief that once a woman has sex, she is no longer worth anything and has no right to say no, and she must want all sex- even forced sex.
An April 2009 review of Jessica Valenti’s book “The Purity Myth” pinned the nail on the head:
Virgin or whore? According to current news and media, our generation can’t seem to decide. For every report of a young woman sexting nude photos on her iPhone, there seems to be another of girls pledging their abstinence at the Purity Ball across the street. Depending on who you ask, we’re either just saying no to hooking up, or living the Sex and the Citylifestyle, gossiping about sexual conquests over brunch, in between stocking up on emergency birth control. The message we’re getting is clear: for some reason, a woman’s sexual purity (or lack thereof) is not merely the choice or preference it is for men—it’s a reflection of her morals and values.
Women need to start owning their sexual activity. We owe it to our sisters that are struggling with STIs and sexual health, unplanned pregnancies, rape, and slut-shaming. We owe it to them to admit: yes- we do have sex! And yes, we enjoy it, and yes we will talk about it. The longer we keep quiet about sex, the longer our national, cultural, and political discussions about sex will be shut down, silenced, and disregarded. Our sexual experiences are important and valuable- and we deserve to be proud of our decisions to have safe, consensual sex with the partners we choose.
Rape Crisis Scotland launched their Not Ever Campaign with a Public Service Announcement broadcasted for the first time during Brazil’s World Cup match two weeks ago:
I had to watch it like three times before I completely understood the accent, but unfortunately the scenario itself is not so foreign. A sexy woman is enjoying herself at a party – drinking some wine, laughing, being fabulous, maybe flirting a little – and a male bystander (presumably a stranger) seizes the opportunity to interject that her skirt indicates that “she’s asking for it.” The viewer is left to make an obvious observation:
Um, asking for what, dude?Asking for another drink?A stick of gum?Directions to the Scottish Parliament?
The short PSA illustrates the absurdity of the “asking for it” rape myth while placing due gravity on its pervasiveness.Yeah, the guy’s an idiot, but he’s also engaging in a pattern of violence, and the real problem is that our culture condones and encourages his violent behavior.
The “asking for it” myth is so deeply ingrained in our rape culture that it’s become second nature to most of us.Sexual violence is treated as an inevitable consequence of certain behaviors, and, when you think about it, that’s a pretty effective way of maintaining social control over women and other disenfranchised groups. We’re frequently asked to surrender our rights to even the most basic of human freedoms in order to avoid being victimized.Don’t live in that part of the city, you’ll get raped. Never walk alone at night, you’ll get raped. Don’t talk to strangers, wear revealing clothing, leave your doors or windows unlocked, take drugs, drink in excess, take public transportation, travel alone, or sleep around – because you will get raped. The list of don’ts goes on and on, each rule wildly impractical, blatantly inconsistent with actual statistics related to sexual assault, and specifically crafted to distract us from the culpability of rapists.Why do we have entire dossiers on How to Not Get Raped and no guidelines for How to Not Rape People? We need a cultural revolution.
I can just imagine the headlines:
Police warn rapists against crime.
Campus leaders urge students to engage in consensual sex.
Why is that message so absent from discussions of sexual assault?Why focus so much time and energy on training women to avoid danger while men walk around with carte fucking blanche? In thousands of ways, our culture has conditioned us to anticipate rape as a natural consequence of violating social norms.Rape myths serve to keep women out of the public sphere, andrape culture wants you to believe that the only safe place for a woman is her kitchen.
You have the right to live your life however you like without being subjected to violence.You have the right to live without fear.And no one has the right to violate you. Ever.
Not too long ago, I was invited to participate in a television pilot for ladies, purporting to tackle the complicated issues relevant to our lives. The tone would be snarky, Jezebel-esque, and “sexy”. I got excited when I learned who the producer was, and full disclosure, I’m pretty easy when you drop words like “pilot” and “L.A.” Sweetening the deal, Jessica Valenti and Anna Holmes were moderating. How could I say no to feminist TV? The technical details of my participation were precarious – like Max Headroom, I would be a disembodied head floating on a computer screen wedged between leather couches. For the sake of anonymity, let’s call the TV segment, Hot Mess.
Hot Mess was described as a panel. Having served on a bunch of panels this year, I imagined a table, a discussion, moderators, a series of points to address, group participation and a friendly/feisty/constructive tone. Hot Mess had emailed me the list of potential discussion topics, and I would be part of the rape panel that they dubbed “consent aka ‘the line’”. Again, flattery will get you everywhere, and using the title of my film to get at the issue, stroke- stroke – stroke.
Some of their “get ready” questions were off the charts problematic, but they followed them up with sound research into the complexity of consent, rape laws, and recent current events in the college sphere. You smart wonderful people on the internet had much to say when I posted the questions for debate in advance of the taping, and speaking from experience, Heather Corinna tweeted her warnings:
@thelinecampaign These are some really uneducated questions they’ve put to you.
@thelinecampaign Don’t suppose they consulted/included a sexuality educator/sexologist, eh?
@thelinecampaign It’s just you and then a bunch of COMEDIANS talking about all of this!? Sounds like they want a hot mess by design.
Things started to unravel when I logged into the live-stream and saw folks lounging on couches. Beaming in from Brooklyn, I went for the “smart filmmaker” setting, and placed myself in my cluttered (creative?) looking office. Everyone was chatting on leather, I was drumming my fingers on my desktop high above from my plasma screen. I placed the call on Skype testing the sound, and realized there was a delay between sound and image. Gulp. I could hear and be heard in real time, but had to guess who was speaking in the room and when/if if the cameras were going to cut to me.
I was told that the 30 second trailer of my film would be used to “kick off” the conversation and we’d go around one by one, with some guidance from the moderator, and discuss the multidimensional and complicated topic of rape. We’d use smart, snarky analysis of a real – not imagined, not whined about, not exaggerated, not falsely claimed- problem.
Instead, egged on by the producer, participants – not the moderators – were encouraged to take what they saw in the trailer and the one sentence synopsis of my rape (she consented to vaginal sex, and then was raped anally) and debate. It didn’t occur to me that a producer would structure a conversation around my film when no one had seen it, nor was it ever articulated that my body parts and my rape would be at the center of this debate.
One comedian played the hard-ass role throwing out phrases like: “play the victim,” “you didn’t say no,” “take responsibility,”, “put yourself in that situation”- and all manner of victim-blaming crap, none of which I haven’t heard before. Choosing to go public with my rape seven years ago, opened the door to all kinds of criticism of my person and of my right to come forward and call out the behavior. People questioned whether or not my experience “counts” as rape, and my personal favorite, whether or not my rape was “bad enough.” In what I call “the hater montage,” I include these presumptions in the film, to highlight and challenge rape myths. It works because its part of a larger, structured story and argument, unlike being broadsided for an imagined audience’s entertainment.
Moderators Jessica and Anna did their best to shut it down by cutting in and correcting rape apologists, but the monkeys flinging shit had been let out of their cage. Here are my freakouts on twitter:
Ok, the room has officially exploded, and I’m not being given the opportunity to speak. At all. Nor has anyone in the room seen my film.
Woah – this is surreal. They are fiercely debating my story – and rape – and responsibility – w/out my fucking voice
WOW – someone just said, unless you kick the ass of the man trying to #rape you, or pull out a gun, you’re not being raped
“You are raped bc you’re unlucky enough to be in the presence of a rapist” – @jessicavalenti (thank you, darling)
Oh, and note to self: Don’t ever debate YOUR #rape on skype when everyone else is in a room, and you’re cutting in and out. TECH FAIL
OMG – we are done. Would you ever want to have #sex w/someone who called your ass “a dirt button”? Gross.
Sisterhood was not alive in that L.A. studio. The gals making Hot Mess thought smart, “sexy” debate meant humiliating their guests, taking cues from Bill O’Reilly, Howard Stern and any right wing talk show pundit with a penis. I am fine with outrage, but — it has to be constructive. Amping people up to be haters for no reason other than to hate or get attention is fucked up. Maybe the bigger question is how do we ever talk about rape in the context of pop entertainment? What are the rules? What do we want to get out of it?” If they’re going for the Jezebel and Feministing audience, those of us weaned on bitchy, smart, funny content that critiques sexism, rape myths and misogyny, being an asshole to be “provocative” isn’t going to cut it. Its just not that interesting.
My experience in the hot seat of Hot Mess reminded me – like a slap in the face- a few basic media principles. As a filmmaker and producer, respect your subjects. They are not objects or props to be used or humiliated. Honor them. And as a subject and author of your life, remember – your story is your story. It is sacred, precious and individually yours. Find and maintain your boundaries about how and with whom you share your story. Call the shots and don’t forget you’re in control.
So yea, if you’re trying to make “feminist” TV, and you’re going to tackle big important lady topics like rape, to quote Jon Stewart, “I’m not going to be your monkey.”
