Archive for the 'Favorite Posts 2008' Category

Of labels and candor

We wrapped up my History 24F class (intro to Lesbian and Gay American History) yesterday. As I usually do in such a class, I asked the students what they would be taking away from the course now that the semester was over. Many expressed excitement at finally learning that “We have a history too”, and some who used the first-person plural of Queerness to describe themselves yesterday did so for the very first time publicly. More so than in past semesters of 24F, I’ve had a high number of students who openly identify as “bi” or “questioning”; a couple mentioned that while they had gained no particular new insight into their own identities and desires, they did feel more comfortable after the class living without a specific label. I’m always happy to hear that.

And of course, the students also asked me to talk about two things: why I teach this class, and how I identify sexually. I’ve answered the first, and part of the second question in writing in this post. I wrote two months ago:

I don’t always identify as straight. I’ve never liked the word much: I’m too conscious, in an evangelical Christian sense, of my own places of brokenness to feel comfortable calling myself “straight.” And calling myself “heterosexual” seems to imply a continued openness to other women in my life. I jokingly call myself “Eira-sexual”, using my wife’s name. It captures the essence of one basic goal of my private journey today, to direct as much of my sexual energy as possible into one relationship. But there’s no point in denying that from adolescence on, my desire has always been primarily directed towards women. That has given me a set of experiences that set me apart from most of my queer brothers and sisters, no matter how often homophobic slurs and threats have been sent my way. I know better than to presume that I can always put myself in the shoes of those whose identity and desires are at odds with what the dominant culture decrees right.

Of course I stand by that. But my use of adverbs is often problematic, and it was in that paragraph. Continue reading ‘Of labels and candor’

The crowded “cloud of witnesses”: of ex-lovers, ex-wives, and the call to grow

After ten days of “all election, all the time” posting, I’m ready for something different.

I’ve got a remarkable number of friends going through divorces or break-ups right now. And a week or so ago, one of those friends asked me a question I often get: “How did you survive three divorces?” The question is usually half-facetious, half-serious. I have the quick and facetious answer down pat: “I’m the King of Starting Over”, something I’ve blogged about in the past. I know better than most how to move out of a shared space and begin a new life with rented furniture! Three divorces before my 36th birthday (still, and one hopes always, a standing family record) have given me a great many interesting stories about “new beginnings”.

But last week, my friend asked me a question I get far more rarely: “How, Hugo, do you deal with having been in love with so many women? Where do they all ‘go’ in your head and your heart?” My friend is an evangelical cradle Christian; his soon-to-be-ex wife was his first love and his first lover. He can’t imagine ever being as intimate with anyone in the future as he was with her. He’s worried that memories of his first marriage, and his first romance, will haunt any future relationship. He repeated his question: “Where do all these past lovers ‘go’?”

There’s a great line in Jane Hamilton’s otherwise over-wrought A Map of the World (which was turned into an underrated Sigourney Weaver/David Strathairn film). I don’t have the book or the movie handy, so I’ll quote it as I remember. Near the end, the lead character (who has gone through unspeakable tragedy piled on unspeakable tragedy) says of her past loves: “They’re always with you, just not consciously. They’re right beneath the eyelids.” I may be misquoting the line, but the point is reasonably clear: the past is something you heal from, something you get over, but also something you carry with you. And the lovers and exes whose bodies you knew and whose lives you shared are gone — and in some sense, need to be gone — but their influence on your own life continues.

One of the Apostle’s loveliest images is of a “cloud of witnesses” urging us on. Whatever St. Paul meant, I’ve long cherished the idea that I am watched over, and perhaps in some sense even protected, by those who have gone before. I think of my father, my grandparents, and countless other friends and relatives who have “gone to join the great majority” on the other side. As a Christian, I believe not only in a life to come but also in the promise of being reunited with deceased loved ones. I also believe, based on Scripture and on hope, that I am watched over and cared for by these witnesses. I’m not practicing some sort of ancestor worship, never fear — but though my great hope is in Jesus, my quiet comfort is also in the presence of those who cheer me on. (I know this isn’t a comforting image for everyone. I had a friend who was raised with the belief that the dead could see you, and she grew up with a genuine phobia about going to the toilet, worried that dead people were going to watch her poop.)

In any case, I don’t just apply the “cloud of witnesses” image to the dead. Continue reading ‘The crowded “cloud of witnesses”: of ex-lovers, ex-wives, and the call to grow’

The longing to “jump the life to come”: some thoughts on Shakespeare, pregnancy scares, contraception, and romantic myths

There are a great many things I could blog about this morning, my own pre-election anxiety not least among them. I’m grateful that I’m leaving town (actually, the country) from tomorrow afternoon until late Sunday night — and that will give me a break from incessant poll-checking. Yesterday, I visited RealClearPolitics and FiveThirtyEight and the DailyKos at least a dozen times each. I met with Stephanie, my Pilates trainer, this morning at 6:00. Though I normally do a private session with her three times a week, because of my travel schedule I won’t see her until next Wednesday morning — the day after the election. “We won’t see each other until after the election”, I blurted on my way out the door. “Oh God”, Stephanie replied, “I know. Let’s hope we’re both giddily happy at this time a week from now.” “Amen, sister”, I replied.

I will have more posts up about porn soon, but I am always reluctant to post too often about the same issue. I have a diverse group of readers, fortunately, and want to do my best to cover as many bases as possible. Two important voices for sex workers rights and for a “pro-porn” position, Amber Rhea and Renegade Evolution, have thoughtful responses to my recent posts. (Ren’s site may not be work-safe for all.) I’m glad respectful dialogue can happen.

I’m thinking about something else sex-related this morning. In the past month, three of the students I mentor (two women, one man) have come to me reporting pregnancy scares. They are all between 18-21, and each is in a committed relationship, though not with one another. In the case of the lad and one of the gals, the tests came back negative; in the case of the second young woman, she’s planning on taking a pregnancy test later today. (In case you’re wondering, yes, I do have a solid number of students of both sexes whom I mentor — and some of those students choose to seek me out for advice about their private as well as their intellectual lives. In cases where professional counseling is needed, my motto is “affirm and refer”, but in most instances, what these students need is a safe and reliable ear. Given that I teach so many courses on gender and sexuality, it makes sense that some students would seek me out for direction and counsel. I see it as part of my job, remembering that in my college days, I had a few professors from whom I sought personal as well as professional advice.)

I’m familiar with pregnancy scares. Heck, I’m familiar with unintended pregnancies, both in my own life as an adolescent and in my work as a teacher and youth leader. I have helped arrange (and in a couple of instances, helped pay for) abortions, and helped facilitate one adoption. I have been to two weddings of former students who got married as a result of a pregnancy. I’m honored to be trusted by as many young people as I am, and I hope to continue to be worthy of that trust.

But I’ve been thinking more about why so many young people I know choose not to use contraception. The gal who came to see me yesterday had been on the Nuvaring, but her insurance coverage lapsed, and she couldn’t get the scrip refilled. She and her beau had condoms available, but chose not to use them. “I don’t know why we’re so stupid”, she said to me yesterday. The young man I work with who came to me last week, worried his girlfriend might be pregnant, also reported that “condoms were available” at the key moment, but “we went ahead without them anyway.” I wasn’t shocked. When I got my high school girlfriend pregnant, we had condoms nearby as well. I didn’t like wearing them, and my girlfriend said she hated the way they felt. So we used them “some of the time”. And predictably, a pregnancy resulted.

The $64,000 question is: “Why?” Why do bright, educated young people who are very clear about how exactly babies are made choose to have unprotected heterosexual intercourse so very often? Why, on many occasions, do they find such flimsy excuses for not using contraception, even when contraceptive devices are easily available? In some cases, of course, lack of affordability is an issue — condoms aren’t as cheap as some folks think, and other forms of prescription contraception have grown much more expensive in recent years. In other cases, one partner (almost always the male) will nag the other about how “uncomfortable” condoms are. But in plenty of cases, these young people have access to reliable methods of birth control, and choose not to use them. Ignorance is not an all-encompassing explanation, and neither is expense. Something else is at play. Continue reading ‘The longing to “jump the life to come”: some thoughts on Shakespeare, pregnancy scares, contraception, and romantic myths’

A very long post about bisexuality, fidelity, fantasy, masturbation and desire: a response to Neil

One of my readers, “Neil”, is finishing up an M.Div and busy working as a pastor in a small congregation. He’s doing a lot of counseling. He wrote to me a few days ago:

So I’m reading your blog procrastinating from household chores
on my day off and come across (no pun intended–really) one of your
posts on masturbation.

I’ll get to the point now: In my pastoral work, I recently
had a conversation with a married bisexual man–whose wife knows he is
and did even before they got married. Masturbation has come up in the
context of “I’m married to my wife and want to be entirely faithful to
her, but what do I do with my desires for men?” I wonder what your
perspective is on orientation and fidelity for bisexuals in a
Christian context.

Since this topic may not be what everyone wants to read about, the remainder of the post is below the cut. Continue reading ‘A very long post about bisexuality, fidelity, fantasy, masturbation and desire: a response to Neil’

Of abortion, atonement, and the wickedness of politicizing grief: UPDATED

It’s the eve of Yom Kippur, the day of atonement, and it’s a good day for asking forgiveness and thinking about the injuries — intentional or accidental — that we inflict on others.

Somewhat in that vein, I’m thinking about regret and experience, particularly around sexuality and abortion. Lynn Gazis-Sax offers this wonderful post inspired by this equally fine piece from Christy at Dry Bones Dance. And I’m thinking about the PR campaign that is spreading like wildfire among my pro-life friends surrounding the new book Changed: Making Sense of Your Own or a Loved One’s Abortion Experience.

The book is by Michaelene Fredenburg (a splendid name, whatever else may be said), who is about my age. From interviews (I haven’t read the book), we learn that she became pregnant at 18 and chose to terminate the pregnancy. Had she carried to term, the child that might have come into the world would have graduated from college (assuming a normative time to degree) this past spring. That caught my eye, because as I have shared many times, I got my high school girlfriend pregnant in 1985. Had a child been born as a result of that pregnancy, he or she would have come into the world sometime in early February 1986 — and would thus have been, like Michaelene’s potential offspring, ready for college graduation this year.

In the interviews I’ve read — and at the AbortionChangesYou site developed to promote the book and the message — the message is emphasized that undergoing an abortion (or being close to someone undergoing an abortion) can have lasting and damaging psychological consequences. And you know, I’ve got no problem with that. Honestly, not a month goes by that I don’t find myself wondering what it would be like to have a child in his or early twenties. Time and again, I have tried to imagine whether my high school ex and I would have had a boy or a girl; I wonder about what the child would look like, what their interests would be, and what it would have been like to become a father so very young. And given the life I led for so many years, I have often wondered if I was responsible for other abortions about which I never knew. (For that matter, I still occasionally contemplate the possibility, one hopes remote, that I might have a child out there somewhere.)

Did going through the abortion experience (as closely as any male can) change me? Of course it did. I’d like to say it turned me into a lifelong advocate of effective contraception, but that would be a substantial fib; I had plenty of foolishly unprotected sex in the years that followed. I didn’t “learn a lesson” quite as well as I would like to imagine. But the experience did touch me, and the memories of what my girlfriend and I went through nearly a quarter century ago still come into my consciousness, particularly around the time of the abortion (late June) and the due date (early February). Continue reading ‘Of abortion, atonement, and the wickedness of politicizing grief: UPDATED’

Manhood, Boyhood, Adulthood: a response to SamSeaborn

Strong language in this post below the fold, at least a smidgen.

In a long comment below this post, SamSeaborn writes and asks:

You can be a great MALE while being a virgin. But can you be a great MAN?

These are three distinct layers of identiy - PERSON - MALE - MAN

So what is it that makes a MALE PERSON a MAN? Of course, sexual success with women is just one arbitrary measure. But what other criterion could be used?

He gets some sharp responses from other commenters, and those responses are excellent.

In one sense, though not perhaps in the sense he intended, Sam is right. We live in a culture in which manhood has been made distinct from biological maleness. “Boys are born, men are made” is the sort of thing repeated over and over again by those who imagine themselves wise about such matters. And there’s no shortage of institutions in our culture which promise to “make boys into men”; the military has done nicely for quite some time by recruiting on that promise very explicitly. Plenty of boys try out for football, or learn to hunt, or join a fraternity, or allow themselves to be jumped into a gang, all because of some desperate hope that through membership in a select company of the be-penised (the team, the gang, the Marines) the boy will be magically transformed into someone recognizable to his peers and to himself as a Man.

Heterosexual initiation is, as Sam makes clear, the sine qua non of real American manhood. That it ought to be otherwise seems wise and reasonable, that American males are generally made to feel it to be essential to their acquisition of manhood is indisputable. There are some wonderful works out there, by the way, about how young Catholic males view their presumably celibate and virginal priests — priests are often granted a special dispensation into ‘manhood’ by virtue of what seems a heroic sacrifice. And after all, priests and monks make a conscious choice to remain virgins (though some, of course, have sexual experience before their vows). And for many men in our culture, having enough “game” to have been able to have sex if one wanted to, but choosing otherwise because of a higher commitment, is sufficient to establish at least a partial manhood. It’s the males who are homosexual and have no interest in intercourse with women, or the males who (for all their desire) lack the “pull”, the “game”, the magnetism to get women into bed who receive the full measure of scorn from their fellows. Continue reading ‘Manhood, Boyhood, Adulthood: a response to SamSeaborn’

“Bowflex Boy” and Kristy McNichol: desire, celebrity, and the sexiness of earthy reality: UPDATED

There’s been an interesting discussion going on beneath this post at Feministe. As part of a riposte to some rather silly criticism of Third Wave, sex-positive feminism, Jill last week put up a number of pictures of hot shirtless men. (It’s reasonably work-safe to visit.)

Some commenters (both men and women) criticized the decision to put up the photos. They asked the usual questions: isn’t it reflective of a double standard if we denounce men for objectifying a narrow range of beautiful women, while celebrating when a feminist woman posts pictures of handsome, ripped, relatively young men? Isn’t it problematic to celebrate a narrow ideal when we live in a culture in which body dysmorphia and self-loathing is rising dramatically in the male population?

Jill responds to the criticism in this comment. When the question of poor male self-image is raised, some commenters leap in to make the perfectly legitimate case that all things considered, women today suffer far more from a culture that fetishizes a very narrow notion of perfection. That’s true enough, but the damage done to young men by our contemporary ideal of the “cut, be-sixpacked” physique is very real.

But this post is not an attempt to revive some sort of suffering Olympics discussion about male v. female body image issues. Rather, I’ve been thinking about something I learned twenty years ago about desire, the ideal, and insecurity. In college, I lived for a while in a co-op on the northside of the Berkeley campus. There were 37 of us in the house, nearly as many women as men. One of my best female friends in the house lived in a “single”, and I often visited with her in her room. (I had a triple for most of my time in the co-op). Debbie had a huge poster on her wall — an ad for the “Bowflex Man.” If you remember the ’80s, you remember the ad. I’ve done a Google image search, and can’t find it, but the picture is indelibly carved on my brain. A young, dark-haired man is pulling off his shirt, lifting his arms over his shoulders. His body beneath is tanned and spectacularly toned. A Bowflex machine is in the background. Half the dorm rooms on campus seemed to have this picture up; it was more popular than that college staple, Robert Doisneau’s kissing Parisian street couple. Here’s the picture: Bowflex Boy

Anyhow, Debbie had this picture in her room, over her bed. At one point, Debbie and I made a brief attempt at a romantic relationship. It lasted only a few weeks before we realized we were better off as friends. But I remember that when I was naked in her bed the first time, I couldn’t stop thinking about the image of masculine perfection just inches away. I was not terribly out of shape in college, but in both color and texture was a bit doughy around my middle. I certainly wasn’t “Bow-flex boy”. And after we had finished fooling around, as we lay in her very narrow single bed, I made a rather joking, obviously insecure remark. It’s been more than twenty years, so I don’t remember exactly how I put it, but it was something like “I can’t believe you want to be with me when you’ve got this guy to look at.” Continue reading ‘“Bowflex Boy” and Kristy McNichol: desire, celebrity, and the sexiness of earthy reality: UPDATED’

“Do Me, Do Me Right”: part one (very long) of a four-part series on Christianity and sexual ethics

This is part one of a four-part series this summer on Christianity and sex. Part Two will look more closely at issues of sexuality and global justice, part Three will look at how to reconcile contemporary sexual ethics with Scripture and tradition, and part Four will provide a whole bunch of good readin’ for further study.

Christian sexual ethics are much on my mind, on the minds of many of my students and youth group kids, and this summer, very much on the public’s radar as well. Next week, we’ll mark the 40th anniversary of Pope Paul VI’s famous Humanae Vitae, the encyclical that declared virtually all forms of contraception to be incompatible with Catholic teaching. In many ways, Humanae Vitae was the first blow struck in the reaction against the liberation movements of the 1960s, and it was the seed for much contemporary conservative thought about the meaning and purpose of our bodies and our lives. From a progressive standpoint, its fortieth anniversary is not cause for celebration. (But in all fairness, if you want to read a fine — but very, very wrong-headed — encomium to Humanae Vitae, visit First Things for this Mary Eberstadt piece.)

And of course, the Anglican Communion is on the verge of major schism this summer over, above all else, the issue of sexuality. A church that survived numerous revisions to the prayer book, a church that bravely embraced contraception way back in the 1930s, a church that largely held together when women began to be ordained in the 1970s, is now at last falling apart over the issue of homosexuality. Tied up in the near-certain schism is the basic disagreement among Christians about what constitutes “ethical sex” in the eyes of God. There seems little chance of a resolution that will both keep the church together and, at the same time, be congruent with how two very different groups of Anglicans see the role of sexuality in our lives.

In any case, I’ve been thinking about (and studying about, and writing about) Christian sexual ethics for many years, since I first took a course on Patristic Theology at Berkeley in 1987. I became a Roman Catholic the following year, and then had a tortuous series of peregrinations that led me to — and through — the Assemblies of God, the Mennonites, and the Episcopalians. (I’m just your average, run of the mill “charismatic Anabaptist Roman Anglican”.) Though I continue to worship at a variety of Christian churches today, I am now involved in the work of the Kabbalah Centre. And of course, I have a Ph.D. in Christian history, though that doctorate focused more on the ethics of war than on the ethics of sex.

I also come to the discussion as a heterosexual man in his forties, four times married, thrice divorced. I come as a college gender studies professor who works closely with Christian and non-Christian students alike, many of whom, I am happy to say, have chosen to see me as their mentor. I come to the discussion as a former Episcopal youth leader, who spent seven years teaching workshops on “Sex, All Saints Style” to high schoolers at the largest Anglican parish west of the Mississippi. So I bring a lot of experience, passion, and yes, baggage, to this subject.

From a theological perspective, though I’ve never been a Methodist, I come to the discussion with a healthy reverence for what’s often known as the “Wesleyan Quadrilateral”: Reason, Experience, Scripture, Tradition. The “Quad” suggests that any understanding of God’s call on our lives needs to rest on those four things. Many Christians from across the theological spectrum have embraced the Quad as a sound method for discerning right thought, right speech, and right action.

So after all that build-up, what am I ready to say about Christianity and sex?

If there’s one core principle I derive from using the “Quad”, it’s this: in the end, God cares more about the content of our sexuality than he does about its form. Traditional Christian sexual ethics are often discussed in the context of what Christians can and can’t do. Modern conservatives will often say things like “the only form of genital contact sanctioned by God is that which happens in a marriage between one husband and one wife.” The implication is clear: if you get the “form” (heterosexual marriage) right, then the sex that follows is licit. If you haven’t got the form right, then sorry, Mabel, sorry, Ernest, you’ve “fallen short of the mark.”

But “form-based” sexual ethics clearly have their problems. For example, it ignores entirely the great likelihood that coercion, disrespect, and force can take place within marriage. The Catholic church did not start condemning marital rape — or even acknowledging that such a concept was possible — until the second half of the twentieth century. Is a situation in which a husband demands sex from his wife against her will somehow more congruent with the spirit of Christ than a situation in which two unmarried people make love with mutual enthusiasm? If you’re a stickler for “form-based ethics”, you bet. For the most traditional of theologians, marital rape is less of a serious sin than homosexuality or pre-marital sex, because form matters more than content. (And when was the last time you heard Focus on the Family put out a series of messages against intra-marital coercion?) Continue reading ‘“Do Me, Do Me Right”: part one (very long) of a four-part series on Christianity and sexual ethics’

Hating to win more than fearing to lose: on competition, Hell’s Kitchen, and surviving in a broken world of finite rewards

My wife and I are, for better or worse, fans of Gordon Ramsey, the foul-mouthed, charismatic, and decidedly non-vegan-friendly celebrity chef. We enjoy all of his various programs produced for the BBC and American television, and last night took in the conclusion of his silly but eminently watchable Hell’s Kitchen. Following the model of so many reality shows, Hell’s Kitchen follows fifteen contestants as they compete for a spot as an executive chef at a new Ramsey restaurant. One contestant is eliminated each week, and last night saw the final two engage in a very close competition before one was selected. It was very tense and exciting — and even if much of that tension is manufactured and much of the excitement is manipulated, I enjoyed it thoroughly.

The final two contestants, a man named Petrozza and a woman named Christina, seemed to like each other. They were not hostile or unpleasant towards each other, but each obviously wanted to win very badly. And watching them balance genuine affection with tremendous competitiveness was, for me, quite moving. I found the relationship between these two final contestants to be the most intriguing — and bittersweet — part of the entire show.

What last night’s episode got me thinking about was the pain of competition, and how long it took me to accept the inevitability of going up against another person for a prize only available to one.

When I was a child, frankly, I hated competing at anything I thought I was good at. I was happy enough to play most sports, because there were very few physical games at which I was any good. As long as I wasn’t teased too badly for my lack of athletic prowess, I was content to play team sports at school. (I didn’t discover whatever small talent I had for running until I was in my twenties.) The only games I became good at were table tennis and croquet; in my family, these were the two main “sports” played by the younger generation at our large clan gatherings. And I discovered, particularly with “ping-pong”, that I didn’t like winning.

I remember the first time I bested a friend of mine in a long game (it ended something like 25-23). I was perhaps ten or eleven years old. When I won, I saw the disappointment in his eyes — and I was devastated. I promptly threw the next game, but did it so obviously that he got even angrier with me. Over the years, I got craftier at losing. Sometimes, of course, I was beaten outright. (Including more than once by my very talented father.) But other times, I did deliberately throw the game, often by attempting deliberately unlikely shots that displayed a lot of effort but which were almost guaranteed not to produce a satisfactory result. I got pleasure out of trying to make the other person believe that they had won fair and square, and I got better and better at this people-pleasing deception as my adolescence wore on. Continue reading ‘Hating to win more than fearing to lose: on competition, Hell’s Kitchen, and surviving in a broken world of finite rewards’

“Only disobedience is free”: my mama’s follow-up on sin, rebellion, and autonomy

Last week, I posted about the Calvinist notion of rebelliousness as the gravest of sins, quoting both Richard Mouw and Augustine of Hippo. Mouw and Augustine excoriated themselves for childish destructiveness, not so much because of the damage they did to the objects they attacked but because of their sheer glee in defying authority.

My mother, a retired professor of philosophy, now in her seventies and an atheist since her teens, wrote to me with a different insight about the meaning of rebellion:

I don’t know if I ever told you this story. It is my earliest clear memory; I was only two and a half years old. It was Christmas Eve 1939, and I was in the backseat of the car. We were driving to Grandfather Roeding’s for dinner. I think I had a slight cold. For some reason I had no shoes on but I did have socks and I started to take my socks off. My mother told me not to, but as I continued to remove them, I had this sudden enormous sense of myself as a self. I could take my socks off If I wanted to! I was a separate person. I was genuinely — if only briefly — aware of my own separate consciousness. I’ve certainly never thought of it as a sin. I disobeyed in the revelation that I could disobey: A deliberate act of free will. I’m sure I had done quite a few naughty things before that but this was an act of independence rather than of malice.

Do you know the medieval theory that there can be no true love in marriage? True love involved giving freely and nothing in marriage can be giving freely since everything, according to medieval doctrine, is already owed. Similarly, in our childhood there is a sense that everything good and well behaved is already required of us. We disobey not because we are depraved but because in the tiny sphere of our capacities, only disobedience is free, only disobedience is an expression of our autonomy. I have never forgotten that moment of realization that I could choose not to obey.

The bold emphases are mine.

I am truly, in so many ways, my mother’s son! And though my mother and I disagree about a great many things, I think she’s absolutely right about the essentially healthy, life-affirming function of the kind of childish disobedience she describes here. I am not a philosopher like my parents or Richard Mouw (though I did suffer through a lot of graduate work on medieval English scholasticism). What I do believe is that we must distinguish healthy rebellion from wanton destructiveness. My mother’s defiant removal of her socks, in the face of her own mother’s stated warnings, is evidence of a desire for healthy autonomy; Mouw’s smashing of his grandparents’ plants is less positive because it is the expression of autonomy through the willfull destruction of life (however feeble and unsentient that life may have been). Rebellion for the sake of establishing independence is, in other words, only sinful when it involves deliberate harm to that which is created, good, and valuable. There are different kinds of rebellion. Continue reading ‘“Only disobedience is free”: my mama’s follow-up on sin, rebellion, and autonomy’

“The opposite of rape is not consent; the opposite of rape is enthusiasm”: a revised and expanded post

I’m very much looking forward to Jessica Valenti and Jaclyn Friedman’s forthcoming anthology: Yes Means Yes: Visions of Female Sexual Power and a World Without Rape. I submitted a piece for inclusion, but a week or two ago received a very kind rejection note from the editors. I don’t think the short essay I wrote is viable for publication elsewhere, as Yes Means Yes will likely be the definitive work on the subject of consent for some time to come. So I’m posting the submission here.

This essay is a revised version of an earlier blogpost, of course. And though I am naturally disappointed that this essay won’t be included, I’m still very much looking forward to the appearance of the book, scheduled for later this year. in any case here goes:

“Yes means yes.” It’s a powerful, simple phrase, and important enough to be the guiding theme for this anthology. But the problem, of course, is that there is more than one kind of “yes.” There’s a world of difference between the “yes” said to appease or please, and the “yes” that comes from our core, brimming with enthusiasm. From the time we were children, most of us have been raised to say “yes” to things we would rather say “no” to: doing household chores, covering a co-worker’s shift, agreeing to pick a friend up at the airport. “Yes” often means “I am willing” rather than “Gosh, I’d really like to do that.” And while part of living in community with other human beings involves saying “yes” to things we’d rather not do, this issue of consent and enthusiasm is very different when the subject is sex.

This essay argues that when it comes to teaching young people about sexuality, we need to do more than make the case that “no means no, and yes means yes.” We need to make the case that consent is not enough. Great sex – ethical sex – is rooted less in mutual agreement than in mutual enthusiasm. It’s about moving from a “yes” to a “Hell, yes!”

I’m the elder of two sons raised in the ‘70s and early ‘80s by an avowedly feminist single mother. Mom hosted meetings of the League of Women Voters in our living room; Ms. Magazine rested on the coffee table. My brother and I didn’t get much of a sex talk from our mother, but she was gently insistent that we “respect” the girls we dated. When I was fifteen, I had my first girlfriend, Carmen. One afternoon, as my Mom drove me over to Carmen’s house, she warned me: “Don’t push her further than she wants to go. No means no, always.” I was acutely embarrassed (Carmen and I hadn’t moved beyond the kissing stage), and changed the subject. But I remembered the message.

The problem with the “no means no” slogan, as vital as it is, is that it implies the opposite is always true: “yes means yes.” “Yes means yes!” can be a triumphant statement about women’s sexual autonomy. But in a world where so many young women feel pressured to please others (particularly men), too many of the “yeses” uttered in dorm rooms and in the back seats of cars don’t reflect authentic desire. Too many “yeses” are coerced; too many quiet “okays” and “I guess so’s” are interpreted as blanket permission. When we confine our advice about sexual decision-making to a simple “no” means “no”, we risk sending the message that anything that isn’t a clear and strong “no” constitutes a “yes.” And as countless anecdotes told by young women reveal, that’s a recipe for disaster. Continue reading ‘“The opposite of rape is not consent; the opposite of rape is enthusiasm”: a revised and expanded post’

Hair length, skirt length, body odor and a bulge in the jeans: what we should and shouldn’t say to loved ones

Last Wednesday’s post about controlling boyfriends got quite a few comments. The post dealt with two young women whose beaux wanted them to stop wearing short skirts, or to stop having lunch with decidedly platonic male friends. I don’t want to re-visit that post, but I have been thinking about the ways in which we negotiate reasonable and unreasonable requests from romantic partners. What is “reasonable” is obviously culture-bound, but that doesn’t mean that some frank discussion about the limits of compromise isn’t going to be helpful.

It seems to me that there is a colossal distinction between a partner’s expression of aesthetic preference on the one hand and a fear (or jealousy) based desire to control on the other. (And let’s be clear, the line between the desire to “protect” and to “control” is a fuzzy one, and when speaking about adults, the language of the former almost always masks the true intent, which is the latter. Obviously, the advice a parent gives to a 12 year-old about how to dress is different than that a boyfriend gives to a girlfriend.) For example, it’s not inappropriate to say the following:

“I really like it when you wear black, it suits you.”

“Since you asked, I actually prefer the blue shirt, as it matches your eyes better than that magenta one you were considering.”

My wife has, at the moment, very short hair. I like very short hair on her, and indeed, prefer it on most people of both sexes. That’s an aesthetic preference on my part, and it’s one about which my beloved is not ignorant. Over the course of our nearly six-year relationship, she’s cut it very short and grown it out past her shoulders. When it was long, I never begged her to cut it, but when she asked, I never lied about my preference. “You look beautiful regardless, dear, but if you want to know my own opinion, I think you are at your most spectacular when it is very short.” Continue reading ‘Hair length, skirt length, body odor and a bulge in the jeans: what we should and shouldn’t say to loved ones’

“How do you desexualize that?”: on the erotics of teaching, and learning to affirm and redirect

A reader named Anna kindly sends me a link to this story that ran in the Times (UK) Higher Education Supplement last month: Sex and the university. It deals with an old and familiar subject, that of teacher-student affairs at the post-secondary level.

The British, it seems, are slower than we Americans to embrace ethical codes that forbid consensual amorous relationships between professors and their current students. While most American two and four-year colleges started adopting such policies in the early 1990s, universities in the United Kingdom have met more resistance to such restrictions (and, apparently, less interest in the policies in the first place).

In the UK, attitudes towards relationships in academe are changing rather more slowly. In 2005, figures revealed after a Freedom of Information Act request by Times Higher Education showed that 50 out of 102 institutions had no policy requiring staff to declare sexual or other relationships with students that might give rise to a conflict of interest. Of those that did, few appeared to apply them: just 17 universities had any current records on file.

In the same year, 18 per cent of respondents to a poll conducted by the Teacher Support Network said that they had had a sexual relationship with a student. Despite this, only 73 relationships were officially recorded and just five of these were defined as sexual or romantic. Many respondents, 62 per cent, said they did not know whether or not their university had a protocol on such matters.

That nearly one in five faculty members in Britain admits to having had a sexual relationship with a student doesn’t surprise. I don’t know of any comprehensive study of faculty behavior at North American campuses, but would imagine that the numbers would be very similar. Purely anecdotally, based on gossip as much as self-reporting, I’d guess that somewhere around 10-20% of my colleagues have engaged in such a relationship. (And as I’ve admitted many times, I had a series of such relationships, all of which ceased ten years ago this month.)

I’ve written about consensual relationships policies here, here, and here, among other places. Part of my own redemptive work was to chair a committee to write a policy for Pasadena City College on consensual relationships, a policy that was not in place during the years in which I was conducting a series of these affairs.

But the point I want to make today is less about such policies, and more about the erotics of teaching. Of all the quotations in the THE piece, this one from the Cambridge classicist Mary Beard struck home:

In some ways we have to accept that there is an erotic dimension to pedagogy. If you take a traditional Oxbridge-style tutorial system, that’s one thing that students love and it’s some of the most interesting teaching when you really get to know someone. That doesn’t mean it’s about feeling someone up, but it is passionate. The difficulty is that that’s a terribly sexy experience; two people sitting together really talking through how Latin love poetry works. How do you desexualise that?

I haven’t done anything with Latin love poetry since auditing a seminar on Catullus in late 1990, but I get what Beard’s talking about. Obviously, a community college doesn’t have the English tutorial style of instruction. But what we do have at PCC is a faculty dedicated to student mentoring. I am certainly not the only instructor whose office hours are frequented by bright young people eager to meet with me one-on-one. And though I don’t teach Ovid, I do teach several courses that touch on various aspects of human sexuality and gender. I’m passionate about these subjects, and the students of both sexes who can be bothered to come to my office hours to work through the material with me are, generally equally passionate. And we all know that there are few things more charged with sexual potential than a shared interest, perhaps particularly one that is discussed behind closed doors. (And yes, I always keep my office door shut — as it opens out onto a hallway so loud that even if it is merely ajar, I can’t hear myself think.) Continue reading ‘“How do you desexualize that?”: on the erotics of teaching, and learning to affirm and redirect’

“Enter through the narrow gate”: culture, tradition, and the Christian paradox of other-centered individualism

At the end of a long post about changing her views on abortion, Mermade asks:

…sometimes I do worry about whether or not I am indeed deviating from the narrow path (see Matthew 7:13), but no longer view the “narrow path” as being politically conservative in a secular culture. I am still trying to figure out what Jesus meant when he said to enter through the narrow path. Any interpretations you guys have of that are very much welcome.

Well, lots of folks can give interesting lectures about the various gates into the city of Jerusalem that existed in Jesus’ time. The number of treatises and dissertations that have been written about the physical location and theological significance of those entryways is mind-boggling. But since we tend to use the idea of the “narrow” and “wide” gates metaphorically in contemporary Christian culture, I’ll roll with that, and offer a reflection that doesn’t cling too narrowly to traditional interpretation.

“Wide” gates are those that many people can fit through at once. “Narrow” gates are those that, perhaps, only one person can get through at a time. A simple and reasonable reading of the passage is that Jesus is doing what he does throughout Matthew: turning conventional wisdom on its head and suggesting a radically different interpretation of what it means to live a righteous life. Matthew, of all the Gospels, is the one most concerned with reaching the Jewish listener. Jesus challenges the parochialism and ethnocentrism (these are not anachronistic terms to use here) of his followers, suggesting throughout Matthew that active commitment to loving the entire world (rather than just one “people”) is the central component of his message. Continue reading ‘“Enter through the narrow gate”: culture, tradition, and the Christian paradox of other-centered individualism’

On “Warrior Girls”, knee injuries, and the tangible costs of adolescent perfectionism: some thoughts on Michael Sokolove’s article

The New York Times has a preview up today of a long article coming out on Sunday in their magazine: The Uneven Playing Field. It’s by Michael Sokolove, and based on his forthcoming book Warrior Girls: Protecting our Daughters Against the Injury Epidemic in Women’s Sports. (I’ve pre-ordered the book, and will review it this summer when it comes out.)

In this lengthy adaptation on the Times website, Sokolove writes about what he sees as the extraordinary number of knee (ACL) injuries that are being sustained by female athletes, soccer players in particular. His thesis:

(the epidemic is) part of a national trend in the wake of Title IX and the explosion of sports participation among girls and young women. From travel teams up through some of the signature programs in women’s college sports, women are suffering injuries that take them off the field for weeks or seasons at a time, or sometimes forever.

Girls and boys diverge in their physical abilities as they enter puberty and move through adolescence. Higher levels of testosterone allow boys to add muscle and, even without much effort on their part, get stronger. In turn, they become less flexible. Girls, as their estrogen levels increase, tend to add fat rather than muscle. They must train rigorously to get significantly stronger. The influence of estrogen makes girls’ ligaments lax, and they outperform boys in tests of overall body flexibility — a performance advantage in many sports, but also an injury risk when not accompanied by sufficient muscle to keep joints in stable, safe positions. Girls tend to run differently than boys — in a less-flexed, more-upright posture — which may put them at greater risk when changing directions and landing from jumps. Because of their wider hips, they are more likely to be knock-kneed — yet another suspected risk factor.

The rate (of ACL injury) for women’s soccer is 0.25 per 1,000, or 1 in 4,000, compared with 0.10 for male soccer players. The rate for women’s basketball is 0.24, more than three times the rate of 0.07 for the men. The A.C.L. injury rate for girls may be higher — perhaps much higher — than it is for college-age women because of a spike that seems to occur as girls hit puberty.

At this point, my heart was sinking. Was this going to be anti-feminist ideology dressed up as professed concern for the health of young women? Was Sokolove trying to scare parents into pulling their daughters out of competitive sports? I even wondered if Sokolove was some sort of shill for the anti-Title IX crowd, trying a new tactic in their never-ending crusade to roll back a policy of equal funding for women’s sports. As a passionate sports fan, married to a former club soccer star, I have a deep and abiding commitment to women’s athletics — particularly the “beautiful game” of what the rest of the world calls football.

Happily, reading the article to the end (it is ten pages long) makes it at least fairly apparent that Sokolove is committed to women’s sports. Rather than imploring parents to pull their daughters off soccer teams, he writes sensibly and knowledgeably about the causes of what is undeniably a common problem: catastrophic ACL injuries among young female soccer players. The chief culprits have nothing to do with inherent feminine weakness. Rather, they are two-fold: poor bio-mechanics and the exhausting “club” system in high school and college that leaves many talented girls playing a demanding sport literally year-round. Continue reading ‘On “Warrior Girls”, knee injuries, and the tangible costs of adolescent perfectionism: some thoughts on Michael Sokolove’s article’