I'm not feeling so "hot"...where's my handbook?

In Gallagher and Kramer’s part II of The Hot Woman’s Handbook, hetero-normative language is rampant. The subsequent chapters all focus on heterosexual relationships, sex positions, dirty talk, voyeurism, and casual sex. I am sure many of you saw this blatant unwillingness to include a specific population of women and men, but what was their purpose in doing so?

Part II is all about how to “get it on” with your partner (of the opposite sex). Moving away from the self-satisfaction of masturbation and orgasms, Gallagher and Kramer move into a dialogue on the different facets of heterosexual sex. Chapter 6 describes the ABC’s of sex acts from the typicl “missionary position” all the way to “the grind.” There are intermittent helpful hints about how exactly to tell “your man” how to find your G-spot or how not to “dry up” while engaging in sex. And, of course, they don’t forget to “liberate” the men by claiming that actually, physical “size really doesn’t matter!” Every page seems the same, and is predictable. I am very unengaged from the reading while simultaneously thrown off-guard with over-the-top heterosexist language like when they are talking about size and shape of the penis and say, “Luckily, that difference isn’t about just one ideal but about getting two people to fit together right” (106). What about two people who technically don’t physically “fit together”? Also in chapter 6 is a brief section on birth control and the importance of having safe-sex, is that sufficient? Isn’t being safe an important part of having “sexual pleasure”?

Chapter 7 and 8 turn focus to sex toys and “dirty talk,” respectively. They give examples of different ways to use dirty talk and sex toys; they even have stories to back up their successes. If you were deterred to buy a vibrator/talk dirty because of you were worried what your boyfriend might think, you no longer have to worry. They all like toys/dirty talk too (italics added for sarcasm). Gallagher and Kramer, heterosexuality assumptions aside, should ask why we are afraid of telling our husbands/boyfriends that we own a vibrator or like to “talk dirty” instead of telling us “go ahead do it, they’ll probably enjoy it!”

Chapter 9 has a different tone to it. Gallagher and Kramer make a point of making sure that women know it is OK to like to be watched. Similarly, the criticize feminist film theory and its discussion of the “male gaze.” On page 144 they state, “as useful as this theory [the male gaze] may be in unveiling the power and prebalence of male fantasy, we are not stuck in passive position of a sex object for men’s pleasure…even when we are being looked at as sexual, we are looking right back.” I was taken aback by this comment. I agree that it’s fine and legitimate if women enjoy being watched, but is that because of the patriarchical power structures that have been in place for as long as we can remember? Are women truly feeling sexual from being “gazed” at or are they mistaking feeling “sexual” for feeling “hot” or “wanted” because that is what we have been taught to strive for?

Chapter 10 discusses the possibility to have heterosexual one-night-stands. The authors go through a series of locations/situations in which you can easily initiated sex with strangers. Included in these scenarios is “Workin’ it at the office” (assuming you are employed), “Checkin’ it out at the gym” (assuming you can afford a gym membership), “Maxin’ and relaxin” on vacation” (assuming you go on vacation- specifically vacation in Geneva). You get the point. I do agree that double standards for men and women have to end, I’m not sure fighting back with one-night-stands is the most effective way to “fight back.”

I especially disliked the interludes of “surrender the pink” where, at the end of each chapter, women tell there heterosexual sex fantasies. These stories contain explicit language and images that turn me off to sex. What I consider as sexy or liberating was not included in this book. While I did learn a few things (especially about masturbating), I was too offended by the explicit language, (that made me feel degraded and unsexy), that I took little away from the chapters. I know this is for a specific audience and appeals to a specific genre, but to what extent does that make it OK or acceptable? Further, to what extent are images of getting “slammed against a wall and fucked up the ass” associations or images of sex we have seen in the media/porn and not really what we desire? Will we ever be able to fully distinguish between the two? As much as I was critical of Levy (just see my above post) the more I read Gallagher and Kramer the more I start leaning in her argument’s direction.

Is CAKES Guide to Female Sexual Pleasure feminist?

So...now what?

I found Levy’s premise of blaming female chauvinist pigs (FCP) absent in the second half of her book. Instead, Levy criticizes, and consequentially blames, other areas of U.S. culture/society that she believes bolsters shallow, anti-feminists, and chauvinistic behavior. I found myself nodding more and more in the latter half of the book rather than scribbling furiously in the margins. Of course there were still many points where I seriously disagreed or saw flaws in her arguments, but for the sake of conversation, and to avoid sounding redundant, I wish to expand on some of Levy’s more compelling arguments and respond to where she leaves us at the end of of her novel.

For one, I agree with Levy on the point that the majority of Americans have a narrow definition of sex and sexuality. Women, she argues, have been exposed to a commercialized conception of sex. Sex has been symbolized as “big fake boobs, bleached blonde hair, long nails, poles, thongs” and it has been portrayed this way so that we can, in essence, “sell” and/or “buy” sexiness/beauty. Similarly, this commercialized view of sex has led many American women to conceive sex as a performance for others or as a way to be a “real” “experienced” woman. Further, a woman’s want to have sex validates their “womanhood” which society equates to their sexuality. “How was I (in bed)?” becomes more important than “Did I have a fulfilling, enjoying sexual experience?” As a woman I can’t help but ask why we question ourselves when we feel ugly, delegitimized, or unfit by society rather than questioning society itself or the people who run it.

To my relief, Levy explicitly states the contradictions that surround sex, (particularly teenage sex), in the U.S. Sex is everywhere it evades our everyday lives and it is nearly impossible to escape it. On the other hand, we are supposed to passively acknowledge it. We are supposed to be sexual but NOT have sex or explore our personal sexuality in ways outside “raunch culture.” As Levy puts it, “Girls have to be hot. Girls who aren’t hot probably need breast implants. Once a girl is hot, she should be as close to naked as possible all the time. Guys should like it. Don’t have sex.” (158). Additionally, Levy then addresses the issue of abstinence-only education and how it adds to the problem. In doing so she finally makes long-overdue connections between societal trends and larger problems that also cause and lead to “raunch” culture. These connections not only help the reader understand the complexity of the situation at hand but allow for a dialogue that doesn’t blame one group more than another. In reality we are all guilty, even Levy, of perpetuating “raunch” culture and living out the pressures that society puts on us. Our guilt manifests itself in an “us versus them” manner; either we label people as “raunchy” or not, and the not-people are usually pointing fingers and saying “how can they act this way?” This brings me to my last point.

What choices do we leave women who do not fit into our limited definition of “sexy”? Since we are a dichotomous society when it comes to sexuality, women who don’t feel like they fit in with the “girly-girls” might automatically turn to the side of sexuality associated with males (or what Levy has called the FCP). In a vain attempt to fit in women may feel like they have to be “one of the guys” and thus engage in chauvinistic behavior. In my personal experience, I have constantly felt the pressure of this separation. In certain groups I reverted to my “girl-girl” side where in other areas of my life it was more “appropriate” to act like “one of the guys.” As I move to understand my sexuality in more complex ways and experiences, I feel this wall between the two areas breaking down. This, for me, has taken self-reflection, travel, feminist literature, and a college community to which I am indebted to my privilege as a white, heterosexual, and middle-class woman.

Levy offers us good points for analysis and further discussion. However, when I put down her book I was more confused than when I started. I’m afraid I’m left with no other option but to revert to old patterns of critique: Levy left us with no viable options or alternatives to the raunch culture she so thoroughly criticized. To add to that, the vagueness of her last sentence (an attempt at a solution?), made me groan out loud:

“I think- I hope- that what has appealed to some people about the book you are holding in your hands is that it espouses something that’s fallen out of favor in this country, but is badly needed: idealism” (212).

I’m left with a head-full of social ills, with a number of people/groups to blame, and yet no viable solution. Was Levy purposefully vague? What do you think “idealism” means for Levy? What do you think are some solutions/responses to “raunch” culture that Levy doesn't address?

Third-Wave Journey: Introduction to seminar

I was once overheard talking with a friend about my upcoming Women's Study seminar. I had mentioned the titled and was interrupted with a daunting, yet inevitable question:

"Third-Wave...what's that?"

My answer was jumbled and and a little too careful. I started talking about multicultural feminisms, intersecting oppressions, a gender continuum, trans issues, international human rights, gender neutral language, etc. etc...I lost my conversation partner somewhere between eco-feminism and bell hooks.

My response above portrays well my journey and experience with the third-wave. I have been simultaneously confused and awed by the complexity of and it and by the number of issues it addreses. I have, however, in spite of my intermittent confusion, never hesitated to call myself a third-waver. Its inclusive nature and gender consciousness speaks to me on a personal level and offers a map for future activism.

I am looking forward to discussing third-wave feminism and gender in new and complex ways that help strengthen my feminist beliefs while also challenging dichotomous, heterosexist, gendered beliefs/practices still present in my life. I hope to be able to offer "expertise" in the fields of international as well as domestic human rights. I have done research on issues such as rape as a tool of war, women in U.S. politics, women in the labor movement, and I am currently working on an Independent Research project on incarcerated women in the U.S. Other courses I have taken include feminist theology, U.S social policy (with a focus on women's issues), gender and sexuality in the 20th century, Women in America, and feminist political theory.

I can't wait to be reaffirmed in my beliefs and challenged further by fellow feminists.