Being Yourself, As a Woman Part 2

The following post is part two of a post by guest author Libby Kanter. Read Part I here.

Is Sexual Freedom Ever Really Free?

Up until this point I may have portrayed myself as the goddess of feminism, dispensing wisdom and empowerment to my fellow woman, but as this next section will indicate, that is far from the case.

Throughout my women's studies class, many of the readings from the Shaw and Lee text have stood out to me. One particular week, March 23-28, the class tackled two chapters, Sex, Power, and Intimacy, and Inscribing Gender on the Body. I was entranced. Learning about the world's sexual scripts-- the norms, power structures and guidelines for sexual behaviors and feelings-- an anger awoke in me. So much of the way males and females act is based on the images of gender performativity that society forces on us. Culture defines women as using sex in an expressive way to show emotional attachment and men as using sex in an instrumental way- purely for the purpose of the pleasure that the act brings. If this framework is society-created, as evidence indicates it is, then it is inherently discriminatory. Sexual pleasure and the means to achieve it is a right that all people are entitled to, as long as all participatory parties are consenting.

This ideology led me to believe that if I ignored social pressures and did what made me happy I could be having good, safe, and non-committal sex with a different man every week. This, I decided, would illustrate the ultimate empowerment. The first week of my new life path resulted in me propositioning two of my male friends (at separate times) to have sex with me, and two refusals. If anything, this made me feel even better. Look at the gender role reversal at work!

The second week, I traveled to Texas and my plan was successfully accomplished. On the last night I slept with a friend of a friend. It was safe, it felt great, and I left for Minnesota the next day without a care in my heart. Empowerment executed!

Duluth was different. Because of the age, enthusiasm and amount of alcohol consumed, the State Convention created a dynamic that placed a strong emphasis on "hooking up"-- meaning anything from kissing to having sex. Starting the first day, younger delegates and participants started creating a list (either mental or physical) of potential partners, because when a candidate is endorsed the losers' sorrow and the winners' joy creates the perfect hookup scenario similar to that of a wedding/funeral. Bottom line, you don't want to be left in a hotel room alone. I asked a variety of people whether they agreed with this synopsis, to ensure I was not over analyzing it based on my new pro-sex feminist framework. The responses varied from "Why else do you think I came?" to "I shaved my legs especially for this weekend." Sex was on everyone's brain, not just mine.

The last night of the convention- truthfully an inopportune time for hooking up since the majority of people had been running around inside for fifteen hours and went directly to parties without a change of clothes and not a toothbrush in sight- Cailin and I made a pact as "weekend best friends" to stay together the whole night. Since Cailin already had hooked her blond hottie she was entitled to direct our actions. Throughout the night we went to several parties-- one in Saint Paul Mayor Coleman's private suite might I add-- and had a wonderful time. But 4 A.M. rolled around, and the Blond Beauty and his Well-Suited Suitemate offered to let us stay in their room, since ours was eight miles out of town. Suitemate and I were acquaintances, but to be honest he cared too much about his suit and his trimmed beard. On the walk to the hotel I decided to cover my bases and lay down some ground rules- "No sex. No hooking up. Just some good sleeping."

Maybe rules were a bad start. Given the number of people sleeping in the room Suitemate and I ended up sleeping on the floor and radical feminist theory reared its nasty head. Radical Feminism crystallizes the idea of patriarchy or men's dominance over women and argues that men use women as objects or tools for their own pleasure. Suitemate started by touching me gently, which in its intimacy and sweetness is hard to not like. But the one thing led to another and that thing led to us having sex.

Maybe I should be angry, but I'm not. At first, I felt guilty, like any good oppressed girl should. I thought, "I shouldn't have drank so much, I should have physically removed myself from the situation, I should have been more adamant in my dissent." Suitemate is not a bad guy, society has created a bad situation. In American society, or to use a nasty word for it, America's rape culture, no means yes and boundaries are easily crossed that later look questionable. My situation illustrates not an act of horrendous proportion but a common occurrence that the majority of women encounter.

Shaw and Lee reported that a majority of girls who were asked if they had been raped responded, "I don't know." This is not evidence of a mass of ignorant girls but instead evidence of a society where a straightforward act of consent has become hazy. Was Suitemate and my sexual encounter rape? Arguments could be made either way but I choose to take it as a learning experience. This is a sad state for a young woman in America. Society would tell me that I asked for it, I put myself in that situation, and at the same time society has told me to be polite, to be charming, that to be wanted is valuable. Debra Anne Davis confronts this in her essay, Betrayed by the Angel, on her own rape. Davis talks about how she wasn't able to close the door on an intruder because "I keep remembering that it's not polite to slam a door in someone's face." The symbol of female perfection, a quiet angel tells Davis to "Be tender. Be pure" and anything that strays from that mantra is wrong and scary.

After sex with Suitemate, I reanalyzed my theory of sexual empowerment and challenged my motivations behind my new powerful promiscuity. My original belief was that my actions would bring me joy and pleasure that I as a young woman had a right to, but looking at the issue more closely, I realized that there were other reasons as well. My greatest fear is that I took the route of a loose life because I wanted to claim the power before it could be taken away from me. Initiate sex before I was the one faced with the challenge of saying no. Objectify men before they could objectify me. Obviously this is a part of my incentive. But where is the line? How do you truly know when you are doing something for yourself, something for another person, or under a misconception? When is the situation a Texas Cowboy or when is it a Slutty Suitemate?

Conclusion

Xavier is my feminist idol. Everyday as I confront these questions, Xavier tells me not to ever feel guilt or regret. His mantra: "It's all a journey." A journey to find what is right for you not only as a woman but also as an individual. To find that first-rate version of yourself and embrace it no matter what society says. I have not found Elizabeth Kantner yet, and maybe I never will as that true being keeps changing. Similarly, feminism has not found a standard to measure the value of "good feminists" and has not agreed on a plot to eradicate sexism, and maybe it never will, because society is not a static entity. But by being in touch with their emotions and motivations, I believe women can individually escape patriarchy. That in itself is not an easy task, but, as Xavier says, it's all a journey.

Comments

[Bonnie]

Libby is such a great writer and I so appreciate her disclosure - a huge chunk of which rings very true to stuff I thought and did decades ago. No easy answers anywhere I can see, but I so honor everyone who ponders such things. I hope College Feminists Connect will help give all of us words to continue the discussion (and know the law) about consent, stalking, etc.

[Linda Kantner]

This is a brilliant discussion of a topic that most women struggle with. Do men struggle too or is it clear to them? It is a journey but do we all have to take the same hard roads? I hate that young girls are struggling with the same issues I did thirty years ago. Linda