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Whoever you are, I want to laud your courage in coming forward, speaking up and bringing your story into the light. I want to thank you for initiating a discourse that this campus, and this country, desperately need. No one talks about porn, really, and when they do, very rarely do people talk about the perspective of the actors involved, especially women.
For some reason this year, exam season has not come with the same stress as it usually does. An external observer might say, “Oh, well that’s just because you’ve decided you aren’t pre-med,” as if the relationship between exams and grades might be my primary stressor. They might tell me, “It’s because you’re thinking of switching out of the hard sciences (neuroscience)” as if the “hard” of “hard sciences” was synonymous with “difficult.” Someone might hypothesize that it’s the relief of realizing “what I want.” But it’s more complicated than that.
People have told me that being a feminist just because you’re a woman or being against racism just because you’re a person of color is selfish and that you should really care about EVERYONE.
Most female fans of fantasy and sci-fi will eventually find themselves alienated by the limited options the genre provides for women. Such options include: the sweet, virginal (usually white and blonde) feminine lead awarded to the male lead, the evil seductress who uses her body to get what she wants, the wise old crone who gives enigmatic advice and the warrior princess who is basically a man with shapely breasts.
When I identify as a feminist, often the immediate response is, “Does that mean you hate men?” followed quickly by, “Are you a lesbian?” This, in turn, is sometimes followed by, “What is your favorite pagan ritual involving the goddess Hecate and menstrual blood?” After repeatedly explaining to various people that I do not, in fact, wish men ill and plan to overthrow the government and to install a matriarchy, I finally gave up and decided to stop worrying and love misandry. If people were going to level unfounded accusations at me, I might as well run with it and have a little fun. I was, for instance, delighted to find a blog entitled “Misandry and Kittens.” Occasionally I terrorize my hapless boyfriend by letting him know how cute I think it is that he has opinions, but how I don’t really support the whole “strong man” thing because, well, that’s just taking things a bit too far. Sweetie, if I am emasculating at times, it is only for your own good.
Last night I was talking to a friend when I suddenly realized what I wanted. What my ultimate goal was in all my endeavors—whether I was skinning my knuckles in krav maga (Israeli contact combat), writing a column or a blog post, debating feminism or working in a neuroscience lab. All of these apparently incongruent activities were means to a common goal.
How do we talk about sex when we talk about sex?
