Sex My Studies Up

Jane Sexes It Up: True Confessions of Feminist Desire Edited by Merri Lisa Johnson
2002
Weight: 15 oz
Method of Disposal: Giving to my friend Tracy



Feminism and Sexuality are two topics that I believe cannot be discussed separately. They come up a lot in conversation. People struggle to grapple with the two together, but there is no other option. I feel comfortable in the many layers of possibility enveloped in the blanket terms, feminism and sexuality. I consider myself pro-sex, whatever that really means. I love talking about sex, reading about it, discovering new things, enjoying new experiences. I am a huge fan of sex toys, sex talks, porn, and people having the right to provide sex work while maintaining their safety and respect.

I often have to think and then re-think my defense of porn and/or sex work. It is a strange and blurry area. The Feminist Sex Wars have been written about a lot, and I have respected women on both sides of the pro/anti-porn debate. I spent a good deal of my college-life studying Catherine MacKinnon, loving her and disagreeing with her all the way (she did convince me to become a vegetarian). I am fluent in Pat Califia. Dworkin holds a special place in a crevice of my heart. I cannot possibly forget my past desire to follow in the footsteps of Susie Bright or, hell, even Sue Johanson. I’m not picky. I just want to talk to people about how incredible and versatile sex can be.

Recently, discussion about porn, sex work, and human rights has been renewed in my life. I find myself with some of the same questions I thought I had already answered and some news answers that question the ideas I had once fully developed. I am uncomfortable in some of my beliefs again, and I am more confident than ever in others. I am confused. This is not an unusual feeling, but it has been awhile. I am excited to rake it all over again and give it another look-see. It is an ongoing conversation I am having with Tracy that has me re-reading a large stack of books on feminism and sexuality. I am going to pass the stack onto her when I am finished because I think she has her own confusion—different than my own in many ways, though there are overlaps. This is the first book in the stack.

As per usual, I had high hopes for Jane Sexes it Up, but I wasn’t overly impressed. I also don’t think it helped me work out any answers for all of my questions. I found myself periodically checking the publication date to make sure it was really written after the year 2000. If it had been in the late 80’s I might have been more enthused. I felt too young for the essays, but too uncomfortable with my potential ageism to admit it right away. It all felt so dated to me.

“Fuck You and Your Untouchable Face” consistently quotes one of my favorite Ani Difranco songs--when I was in high school. I still love me some Difranco, but it felt weird. I appreciate the author’s honesty and openness, and I respect a good conversation about queering heterosexuality. I just didn’t learn anything, and I don’t know what she meant when she used the words “queering heterosexuality.” There was too much reservation in “Of the Flesh and Fancy: Spanking and the Single Girl.” And who judges spanking anymore? I know people do, but I am not around those people much so I forget. And what is wrong with the word “flog” or “flogging?” I like a good flogging from time to time, and I like that it is not dainty.

I did like “Liquid Fire: Female Ejaculation and Fast Feminism.” That might have been the best essay. I wasn’t anxious to leave it. I wanted to follow her through the sex club, and she was a good leader. I liked her sexual openness and how she subtly showed how you can maintain control of your body and your consent in a building with many sexual partners with a simple word or sentence if everyone respects each other. It doesn’t have to “take you out of the moment,” and everyone can maintain their hunger. The lessons on ejaculating were enlightening, and the author seemed confident.

“Scrutiny and The Female Porn Scholar” and “Pearl Necklace” had so much potential, but they quickly became some of my least favorite portions of the book. “Pearl Necklace” had me. I was so onboard with the masturbation, the ejaculation, the bath tub water turning cold, the rape fantasies, but she lost me somewhere in all her rape language. She defended it with her so whats, I like its, and who cares. Are those even a defense? Could you try just a little? I am all about rape fantasy, forceful sex, role playing, BDSM, and so on and so forth, but consent is my #1. And I don’t mean just saying “no” if something is unwelcome. Where was the discussion about consent, safety, consideration, and respect? “A Cock of One’s Own: Getting a Firm Grip on Feminist Sexual Power” was an essay I could not relate to but could see vague outlines of in my memory. I cannot remember the last time I spoke with someone who was anti-dildo, but I have girlfriends of friends of friends who are anti-dildo. I know they are out there. I have read about them in letters and in this essay, but I don’t see a lot of it in my sexual partners.

Maybe I am just super-sexed. I mean, maybe I hoped something would shock me, compel me, maybe even turn me on but nothing did. Worst of all, I don’t think I learned anything and the book came nowhere near helping me with my new prostitution and porn dilemma. I guess I didn’t know what Vulvodynia was before, and I do now. I thank Kantinka for sharing her story with me and all of us. I am not sure it gave me a good pro-porn argument, but I am glad I read it. It gave a good reason for why one might watch porn, but I can think of 100 of those. I need more good reasons for why people make porn-- other than money. A subversion of the patriarchy, playing with the strict rules of society, promoting sexual fun and play, helping others in their exploration of sexuality, pure enjoyment, just a job, what? Where do all these reasons fit into the dominant porn industry? Is it fair to look at “mainstream” porn and judge all porn? It seems that (at least in a capitalist society) the big rigs always have some fucked up idea of morality and the small, little independents struggle to stay alive. I don’t know what the answer is. Maybe we just need to be more responsible about how we purchase sex. Is there a Conscience Consumer list out there for the sex industry? Can anyone help? Do you have any book recommendations? I have many more books to come, Whores and Other Feminists being the next.

"The Lesbians Will Define Who is Lesbian."

POMOSEXUALS: Challenging Assumptions About Gender and Sexuality
Edited by Carol Queen and Lawrence Schimel
1997
Weight: 9.3 oz
Method of Disposal: Giving to Tracy



I hate to be giving Tracy yet another book about gender and sexuality that I did not enjoy all that much, but here I am doing it again. The good news is that a book about pomosexuals, no matter how much it disappoints, is still better than just any kind of reading. I am also, apparently, the only one who got bored while reading this book. It seems as if it received 12 five star reviews on Amazon and on Urban Dictionary the first definition for “pomosexual” that comes up is the exact subtitle of this book.

I guess I am starting to feel the same way about people’s sexual escapades as I do about coming out stories. I use to find them enthralling, empowering, and rejuvenating. Now, I just get bored. I love sex, filth, and fucking. I love bliss, passion, and safe words. I like sex in bathrooms, on buses, and in bedrooms. BDSM, role playing, polyamory, kissing, cuddling, sex toys, serial monogamy, and pornography. Throw it at me. I will probably like it. But a book needs to be more than that unless I am just trying to masturbate for awhile. I want to learn something! I don’t want to deal with everyone’s egos and bragging rights. I have seen enough dirt brushed off other people’s shoulders. It has a place in the world, and it is important, this book, but it has no place in my hands. I am over it.

There were a few interesting essays, and I love several of the writers. Their other books are great. I am glad to hear about so many people busting out of the rigid gay/lesbian binary and even the bisexual trianary. I like the gender fucking and the fun. I JUST WANT MORE. Is that so much to ask?! I am starting to think that it is.

I hope that I am wrong about this book, and that it will find a more compatible companion in Tracy who will hopefully be able to dig out the components I missed in my irritation. We shall see…

Lesbianism, Masturbation, Rape, and Gillian Anderson (Agent Dana Scully)

ALL of my X-Files books

Method of Disposal: Donate. I know. I know. Should I really donate all my old, over-used X-Files books? Is there anyone out there who would want them or am I just wasting some person’s time who has to unpack them all? I cannot help it. I cannot throw them away, and I am convinced a nerd like me will meander into the thrift store, find them, and proclaim that day as the luckiest in their life. I am. I told you, I cannot help it!

Weight: 21 lbs and possibly some tears. Please note that when stacked up they are almost the same height as my pit bull.



I am donating my entire X-Files book collection--at least I hope I found them all. I have been collecting them since mid-1990, and they have lived with me in a variety of different places. They have been hidden away in condos, pushed aside in apartments, and—surprisingly—put on the main display bookshelf at my current house. They are episode guides, Gillian Anderson biographies, a complete set of young adult books, and so and so forth. They are fiction and non-fiction. They are mostly awful and some are, secretly, really good. Or they were ten years ago.

I feel a special affection for the X-Files still. I believe it to be my first full-blown obsession. It is strange since I rarely watch tv, hate almost all television series, and struggle to overcome my disdain for most science fiction. Except when something catches me off-guard, as it does from time to time, like the X-Files. I am into the X-files because I find it entertaining, but I also have key points in my life that are tied to my fascination. I will tell you just a few.

Gillian Anderson not only helped me realize I am a lesbian, but she also helped me discover the joys of masturbation—through no fault of her own, of course. I was in the bath one day when I was a “pre-teenager”, and I thought about something I had done as a young child that felt really good. I tried to remember exactly what it was and, as I was figuring it out, here comes Agent Dana Scully waltzing into my brain. I had a fantastic orgasm. Got out of the bath tub, put some puzzle pieces together, compared those pieces to other pieces of my life at the time, and made two of the largest and most important realizations I had ever made and possibly ever will make. I love that woman to this day, and I will love her when she is much older, wrinkled, and beautifully-aged. I am loyal to her for always, despite the fact that I do not know her at all.

I also learned that while I have no desire to turn on the television I have in my living room I can watch The X-Files for days on end, weeks even, without a moment of boredom. I have the complete set of DVDS, which I do not plan to give away. I had surgery on my nose the summer in between graduating from high school and going to college. It had been shattered by a stranger at the neighborhood pool several years before. He did not like that I was a lesbian and, though he was several years older than me, he took it out on my face. The recovery period was a month with no heavy-lifting and no masturbation/sex. It was awful. My only saving grace was the pain medication and the constant X-Files marathon I had going.

At the end of my senior year in college I was raped by a stranger and had to go to the emergency room for a rape kit. As the doctor performed my pelvic exam and as I waited and waited and waited for a number of tests, words, and questions I was allowed to watch whatever I wanted on television. I did not care, but the friend who brought me turned it on anyway and there she was. Agent Dana Scully. I laughed. I watched it until we were done, and I was allowed to go home. I remember being so happy that life was like that or at least tv was—with all its reruns. I felt transported.

What is even sadder is that I can think of a couple other moments where The X-Files played some role in my life, but I have listed the important ones. I have embarrassed myself enough. Except I am not that embarrassed, not really, just loyal. Loyal, amused, and sometimes in love.

These books weigh 21 lbs when set on a scale. Before this entry, all of the books I had let go of only added up to around 30 lbs. I have almost doubled my number. I am sad to see them go, but I am trying really hard not to think about it anymore. I can feel myself starting to change my mind, but I won’t. I am determined.

"At First Women Were Reluctant to Talk"

The Vagina Monologues by Eve Ensler
2001
Weight: 9 oz.
Method of disposal: Attempting to give it away through a social networking site. If I cannot I will move on to plan B.




Today, I am parting with my copy of The Vagina Monologues, complete with the highlighting of the fifteen year old I was when I bought it. I saw it on a shelf in the drama section at Waldenbooks when I worked there, and I bought it because of the title. I read the book that same night and loved it. It started a sort of-affair. I went to see college productions of it on a regular basis throughout the years and one time I went with my friend Sarah to see it done by Eve Ensler herself. Later, I would volunteer at an event that hosted Ms. Ensler and Jane Fonda. A whole group of us took a picture I have never seen. I remember Eve Ensler’s hand on my shoulder. Even later, I would go to Charis with a very attractive queer preacher to see her talk about her publication, The Good Body. This is yet another time when I will be disbanding a book from a complete collection of all the books written by an author.
I use to be in awe of Eve Ensler. Can you tell? There has been a gradual letting go of that awe over the last six years and now I have a dull curiosity when I see her name in print. I will continue to read about her and her work. But I also think about that initial collection where a father buys his daughter a vagina—the only intersex narrative in the book—with dismay. She has spoken with students about it for years and compromises have been worked out, but it lingers in my copy and thousands of others. I think of Jakarta, Warsaw, Kenya, and other places where The Vagina Monologues has traveled and the mixture of emotions about it expressed in the feedback—the validity of the feelings of those who loved it and those who hated it. I love talking about sex, bodies, and sexuality. I also recoil from gynocentrism, and its effects on our beliefs about gender and sex as binary systems.
There is a lot good about Eve Ensler and about The Vagina Monologues, and I will never forget my initial love for it. It is time for me to move on now. Looking at my highlights, “My Angry Vagina” was my favorite piece in the collection when I first read it. In hindsight, it is hard to imagine growing up without it. I found this book at the perfect time. It did what, I think, it was intended to do. It helped me fall in love and/or maintain my love for my genitalia—though I do not think my vagina is the truly important component of my anatomy. It pales in comparison to my clitoris, my ears, my neck, and my back.