In connection with the last post, The stories we tell about sexuality, links on coming into sexuality, and refiguring it.
Firstly, one I’ve been saving for a year, Cara’s Girls’ First Sexual Encounters Are More Likely to Be Unprotected. How About We Ask Why? at The Curvature:
I can’t quite wrap my head around that. We’re talking about young women being raped, and calling it risky behavior. We’re talking about young women being raped, and asking questions about condom use. We’re talking about young women being raped, and the biggest concern at the front of our minds is about STDs. We’re talking about young women being raped, and we’re asking why they don’t know any better?
A completely captivating spoken word poetry performance from Miss Mary Max, transcript included, called SlutVirgin.
That girl’s got a soapbox, they say
As if soap and voice aren’t both cleansing
Anna of the feminist librarian has a whole lot of thoughts beginning her ‘journal of observations and thoughts about my experience of being queer in Boston,’ which you will have to go and read in full because there’s just so much in there. Check out first thoughts: being interviewed about sexuality + society.
Rachel Hills at Musings of an Inappropriate Woman gets to the heart of it with Slut shaming: it’s not about how much sex you’ve had:
Which begs the question of why we use the word in the first place – why we make sexuality the locus of anxieties that are often about something quite different. Why say “slut” when what we really mean is “I don’t trust her and I’m scared that she might hurt me”?
On being a “good girl” by coleytangerina at The Lady Garden:
Evidently, all I would have to do to be considered “good” as a female-identifying human being is to keep my fucking legs shut.
As Tamara points out in comments, ‘”good” usually means “compliant” and “manageable”‘.
What really bothers me about the “I was born this way” argument is not that some people use it to describe themselves (after all, some of us genuinely feel this way), but rather that, when used as a pillar for a political argument, when used to describe me whether I want it to or not, it robs me of a meaningful choice. A choice that could say that nothing terrible happened to me, a choice that could say that all queer lives aren’t terrible, a choice that I could make even though no one ever offered my parents that conducive endocrine environment, even though the pastor at my church had no after-service classes on how to be queer.