Tag Archives: heteronormativity

An Army of Lovers Cannot Loose II

Update:

Stacey Blahnik Lee, a transwoman from Philadelphia was found by her boyfriend on Monday, murdered in her apartment. Feministing reports how bad the news coverage was phrased.

The Stonewall riot some 41 years ago kickstarted the gay-rights movement and one of those worthy of remembering is Raymond Castro, who died from stomach cancer recently. During the Stonewall riots;

Castro pushed against the patrol wagon with both feet and knocked the two officers to the ground. He was detained but later released without charge.

When we are speaking of heroes, read this about a school-kid who got his head smashed against the ground 4 times and who is now picketing outside his school to raise awareness.

And last update on this post, but not least; Dan Savage is angry.

I wish I did not have to write these posts. I really wish I did not have to talk about the hate against people who love each other. Serbian Riot Police clashed on Sunday with far-right homophobes and haters that thought they had any business of rejecting the human rights of LGBTQI-people.

This was not an isolated incident.  Not at all. This is not a specific case of severe homophobia that one can only find in Serbia.  And it is also not just one of those public manifestations of homophobia, because there can’t be any distinction here between what is personal and political. Homophobia will always be political, and it can hit you wherever you are.

But I keep going back to these pictures. Pictures of people participating in a Pride celebration that previous years would have not taken place. These gorgeous queers are out and  proud and loud and are fighting, not with the police but for eachother and through activism try to change the world that they live in.

And then there is all of these teenage suicides in the U.S, queers that has been bullied so badly that they have taken their own life.  I cry when I think about all of this. And this youtube-clip is one of the strongest I ever seen.

The It Gets Better project is brilliant and beautiful. And I’m sorry, but I really don’t know what to say right now. Just take some time to watch some of the videos. And don’t forget that you have the right to be angry, you have the right to cry, you have the fucking right to love whom ever you wish to love, and that you are not alone. You are not alone because there is so many people, we are an army of lovers, and an army of lovers cannot loose.

To all LGBTQI sisters, brothers and all of those who wish to be neither- I love you.


David Cameron is wrong. And stupid.

I know, I know, this whole debate happened in the end of February, but since it is the General Election coming up and I’ve got a terrible backlog of things to get published here on the blog, I thought it was just as good to get it out of the way. And furthermore, this is not a debate that gets old, it is highly topical and it is about gender, bodies and control. Which is basically stuffs that gets written about in this blog.

First of all, I am not suprised that he is wrong. It is not something unusual, and usually I would not give a toss about him in this blog, but his recent outbursts caught my attention.

Apparently, he is very much against the sexualisation of kids and don’t allow his daughter to listen to Lily Allen.  Bloody hell. Ok, so here we go again. First of all, I’m not very much a fan of small girls underwear that is geared towards making them into ‘sex kittens’ from the time they are 7,8,9 years old. Nor am I a fan of poledancing kits for kids in the same age. But that is not because I am against sex or believe that pole-dancing is the most evil thing ever.  We live in a fantasy world if we think that kids are ‘innocent’ because of their age. There is nothing there to ‘protect’ or rather, the only thing we need to save kids from is from ourselves. Our own rotten appreciation of sex and lust. There is no age in which you are ‘innocent’ and then after that you turn into someone who is ‘guilty’. You don’t wake up one morning with a scarlet letter ‘S’ for sinner.
And while there could certainly be stricter restrictions on how advertisement is geared towards children, I don’t think the most harmful one is just the sexualised kind of advertisement and products. If you walk down on the high street, or to Hamleys, you will notice what expectations there is on children today, according to what gender they are perceived as belonging to. We all know of the colors, the activities and the attitudes this foster and pointing fingers towards a padded bra or outspoken singer.
And this is where the populist idiot David Cameron comes into the picture. Because what he is complaining about is nothing new under the sun. Au contraire, it is something that goes along the line of the argument like But-think-about-the-children! And we all know how very well that works.
Because Cameron has a daughter, the focus has been there pretty much, but it is also symptomatic of what I have written before about a body that is female. No matter what age, a female body is a site of regulation, strangulation and modification.

As one of journalist so brilliantly expressed, this is not so much about the kids. It is true, that they live in a reality that is sometimes dangerous, and there are threats to those who are not mature to handle life on their own, but that has more to do with us. And when a kid explore the dress-up drawer, they do not do that because they want to have sex or shoot someone in the stomach with a AK47. But it is still the girls that our dear Cameron is so concerned with. Because they dress in feather-boas, they apparently become Heard of fantasy? About creativity? The sad thing is that we are working very hard to constrict that very fantasy and that creativity already.

But this is not only about the kids, or female children. This is about a larger picture, and it is one in which there is a constant worry about what is happening to females everywhere. Ariel Levy’s ‘Female Chauvinist Pigs’ is one which questions the very base on which the ‘raunch culture’ lies, a base which is perceived as ‘liberating’ and fulfilling.
And I can agree with many of the criticisms, I’m one of those who pretty much is so fed up with burlesque, fed up how streamlined the bodies that we see are.  It is the 21st century version of the 70’s but the problem is that there is nothing in sexuality to liberate, there is nothing that is trapped or needs to be unleashed. There is nothing deep in there in our bodies that needs to be found and put on display. Instead we need to know how we make ourselves understand sex and what possible consequences this might have. It is not a project that one can finish, never ever. Instead it is a journey and a endless exploration,  and I would prefer if there was something more open in general, not making sex in to something special, something threatening, something incredibly powerful. By giving sex so much importance it becomes so important. And by importance I mean sex  in a sex-negative, hetero-normative, binary way of looking at it.

And it is here that I can’t really say what I want to say as good as I would like it to, so I’m going to quote my favourite blogger Penny Red:

Young women and girls are blamed for their concessions to misogynist, ‘pornified’ sexual culture even as we are told that we’re so thick we can’t help but be complicit. Apparently, there is no middle ground between being an independent, dynamic young thing who makes joyful millions selling her body and the subsequent book-deal, and a cringing, broken victim of porn culture crying tears of shame into her cleavage. Elements of this binary thinking reinforce a stereotype which is just as damaging to young women as the ‘happy hooker’ fantasy beloved by bourgeois filmmakers. As the furore over ‘raunch culture’ escalates, all this baby-boomer moral hand-wringing is beginning to sound less like radicalism and more like priggishness. It’s sounding less like genuine concern, and more like good old-fashioned slut-shaming.

I’m not arguing that raunch culture does not hurt young women. It hurts us deeply. It encourages us to lessen, cheapen and diminish ourselves, to think of ourselves as vehicles for the sexual appreciation of men who still hold economic sway over our lives. It makes us understand that what we look like is as important or more important than what we do, whether we’re lap-dancers, librarians or lazy-ass freelance journalists like me. It warps our understanding of power, intimacy and desire and urges us to starve and torture our bodies and neglect our intelligence. It sells us a fake, plasticised image of empowerment that, for most of us, is deeply disempowering – as many wealthy and powerful middle-aged men and women have recently observed.

I am not asking for us to pretend that raunch culture is unproblematic, or that it’s uncomplicatedly fun to be a Southend lap dancer. I am asking for honesty. I am asking for an analysis that is more rigorous, more grounded in an understanding of the gendered basis of capital, an analysis that is less focused on recalcitrant sexual morality. I am asking for an analysis that addresses itself to young men, who also consume and are affected by the brutally identikit heterosexual consensus. Most importantly, I want a consensus that actually gives a voice to young women, not just those who work as strippers or glamour models, but all young women and girls growing up in a culture steeped in this grinding, monotonous, deodorised sexual dialectic.

…….

Censorship should never be an alternative to challenging the roots of patriarchy. Instead of slapping a blanket ban on pictures of tits, we need to look harder at the economic basis for sexual exploitation and at the reasons why many women make the choice to comply with raunch culture. Today’s young women are neither soulless slags nor tragic victims: we are real people with real desires and real agency, trying to negotiate our personal and sexual identities in a culture whose socio-economic misogyny runs far deeper than conservative commentators would have us believe.

I am not even sure that strippers have that much of a voice, but rather the corrected version of something that can best be resembled to the Belle DeJour version of sexwork, further exploited by the crappy television show. And with this, I’ll leave you for a nice  Sunday, and hope the may-weekend is as nice as you want it to be.


Gush! G-spotting?

So, ‘recent’ research has showed that apparently the G-spot does not exist. Or does it?
I don’t have any scientific credentials, but here is my own take on the matter:

The G-spot phenomena has been thoroughly exploited on many levels. This is nothing unusual when it comes to female anatomy and sex. While Dr. Whipple and John Perry in 1982 coined the term for a sensitive area right after the entrance of the vagina they probably could never imagine what it would lead to, in terms of hype. Let us consider how this can be and how the issues concerning female sexuality are so easily exploited and how they constructed as truths or falsifications. We can do that by looking at another part of the female body that has been considered, used, reconsidered and now even re-named. I will not at any point claim there is or is not a ‘ G-spot’ though, for that I’m not enough qualified.
But my main theme in this text is about control. The control over women’s bodies. So, let’s take the hymen as an example that has to do with female anatomy and power over women’s bodies.
It is now proven there is actually not any membrane covering the entrance of the vagina and thusly, the patriarchal invention is one of mythological proportions A mythology that still haunts our modern society as well as many other societies. I’m not going to dwell to much of the impact it has had, but let’s just say that people has died because of it, and that there is a huge business, now, in the 21st century, in to ‘restoring’ something that has not ever existed. It’s big bucks…to maintain an idea about the whore and the madonna.

For those interested, it is more of a wreath, following the anatomic contours. That is why in Sweden, they have renamed it to ‘vaginal wreath’ in order to dismantle to dangerous notion of a membrane.

Now, what the fuck has this to do with anything? Well. I would not dare to say that there is not areas within the body that react in certain ways, and that gushing does not happen. What I do doubt though, is the exact specifics of it and how it’s been used as a holy grail.In one sense we need more research, but it comes with a problem. The problem of how science can become ridden by assumptions that are not scientific. Bodies change, lust is not the same for everyone, and sexual activity is not always streamlined.
The G-spot phenomena has been an amazing thing to exploit, and also something that has benefited many women. But as many as swear by it, there is also many who claim to never found, no matter how many hooked fingers with a bit of a bent, pressuring against the wall of the vagina they have experienced.That does not mean that one is right or the other is wrong. It means that we are different, and react differently.

I soaked the sheets less than a week ago, but for years I did not understand what people were going on and on about. The toys specified for g-spotting was ridiculous. And I would not say that my gushing has anything to do with the spot and it might be that my largest objection is against the name. The Spot.
I had a reaction on a action at is was very pleasurable and fun. I had the benefit of being able to enjoy that and is that not what it comes down to? Enjoying your body in a way that gives you pleasure that is not haunted by a competition.

It can be hard though. I’ve meet so many women who have been frustrated because of their partners frustration in the quest of g-spotting. I remember a moment that I’ve classifed as the biggest turn off ever. The guy was fingering me, kinda nice, then did something with his fingers, and very smugly said “And there..!..is the G-spot.” The expecting look of his face, very much like a kid waiting to recieve an applaud for doing something, implied that I would turn into a gushing mess, screaming like a banshee while orgasming. I might add I did not. Instead, it became boring and I was annoyed. My body is not a map, or a quest. I am not a problem to solve or a puzzle to piece together.

The competition to find the map to the g-spot is utterly bonkers, not helped by porn, crap sex-industry, ill-informed advisors and wrong focus on lust and education. Not helped by bad research, ridden by old and weird assumptions of the female body and lust. Assumptions that haunts the appreciation of the male lust as well.

So, how about trying to move away from the competition, appreciate that there is an AREA inside the vagina that can react in a very distinct way, but that it is not only technique that create a reaction, it is not about a direct correlation between action and reaction? In the same way that our sex-drive is not constantly exactly the same, our sensitivity is not.
NO-ONE, NO-ONE has the right to make you or anyone else feel pressured when it comes to sexual activities. You are the person who can decide what you want, and roam around in any way that you need to make that decision. Make mistakes, laugh about them, hit the right notes and come in any way you like, but always, always remain sceptical. And you don’t ‘need’ to come. Don’t allow anyone to treat your sexuality like a problem, or non-consensually turning you into an experiment, and

For more, really, really good reading on the G-spot take a look at this link:
Yes, there is a G-spot


Stuck in the essay-monster

While writing the last essay before X-mas, there is not very much time to post something proper, but instead, read this, a post about the problematic relationship between kink and gender. Or maybe even what problems with the structural relationship between gender looks like.

Both sides of the gender superiority thing construct a very narrow definition of womanhood. For a subculture where having breasts is no proof of your genetic gender, people are pretty quick to either thrust me up onto a pedestal for qualities I might not possess or put me down as a sheep in need of a firm hand. This can be pretty awkward in either respect because it’s a narrow box to shove slightly more than half the human population into.

Classically the people who believe in gynarchy say it’s because women are warm, empathetic and emotionally intelligent, bringing wisdom that will end wars. Men who say women are submissive point to their classic social position and need for protection, talking about evolutionary biology or theology, or maybe gorean psychology. They generally phrase things in terms of a yin/yang, with female deference not as an explicit proof of male superiority but part of the natural order of things, like plug into socket…..

So where do I, the visual spokesperson for my kink, fit into all of this? I want a master like I want another hole in my head, but I don’t want to top someone because they believe in extreme sexual dimorphism, I want it to be submission gently coaxed (or brutally conquered) because of who I personally am, with mutual respect. And not the yin/yang separate but equal role bullshit, either. Subs aren’t subbing because this is mystical; it’s a fetish where, unlike the people who love inanimate objects, luckily the object of my desire can love me back.

So I’ll leave you with those words and hope that I can get back to you all as soon as possible.

//
Ve


Ex-gay? Ex-dominant? Ex-switch?

You heard of the exgay movement? About the ex-sm movement? Take a look at this, but be warned, it is very painful.

This is slightly different than you might see in general from an ex-gay movement. This is a man who by his own choice wishes to stop being a pro-dom.  It is a story of a man who has been abused from the early start of his life, from bullying to living with his father who, according to him, had ‘deviant desires’, using dogs as sexual instruments on women, involving his son in pornographic movies, the son became a ‘lap dog’. The dad took his own life, and  the rest of this man’s story is one of abuse (rape, abuse from people he trusted, violence, etc). As the documentary goes on, it becomes clear for me as a viewer that this is exploitative documentary.

At one point Rick says, after some type of fisting session that involves removing feces from the bottom of the submissive, ‘This is all a part of the human cycle, don’t judge me’.
And I kinda don’t want to judge him. His past life catch up with him, and the grim reality of lonelyness is a harsh one. The harshest. And Rick is honest.  The documentary is called ‘Me and my slaves’ but it should be called ‘Me and my pain’. It is hard to watch a human being in pain.
This is him, trying to perform his own absolution saving himself. The christian concept of absolution,attracts to those who are in so much pain, to those who cannot see any way out of a life they consider as doomed.

“I’ve lost myself…I’ve given it up, there is nothing there that I can do.”
Rick

And for that, I will not go through the whole documentary here with you. There is so much to say about this man. But I’m already exploiting him enough.

In the movie Bruno, with Sasha Baron Cohen as the austrian fashionista/reporter/celebrity, there is a specific favorite part of mine He reaches a decision to become straight, because all of the other male celebrities in the U.S are straight.  So he finds someone who can make him straight.  This is in no way on the same levels of Rick, in terms of despair, but it still says a lot about those people who seek out or get forced in to the ex-gay movement. The despair felt, because ones sexual and emotional level is not on the same as the normative society’s. A  society that can punish you, shun you, kill you, ignore your very existence. What then does that mean, this whole regiment of becoming straight? By being around men and being socialised into becoming a straight man, not thinking about men in a sexual sense, the gay or bisexual man is supposed to become liberated from what is seen as a troublesome practice and instead find a woman to marry.Being gay according to the ex-gay movement is something that you choose to do, it’s a choice in terms of sexual practice, and this practice is wrong.  The impure thoughts of a broken individual that is becoming healed through therapy. For this movement, they do seem to have very little appreciation of  any possible emotional links to a person of the same sex, and if there is, they are taught and can be re-wired.
So here we are then. Bruno is going to be rewired. Or is he?

Can we apply the same concept to BDSMers? That we ‘are’ sadomasochists, that our bodies inhabit the lust as a essence and there is nothing more? What would that stance actually mean in terms of fighting for BDSM-rights, or queer rights? These are important questions. Is BDSM something that we are or something that we do? I can’t answer that for you, but this is where I am coming from.
My personal stance is that I am a queer person.  With certain tastes of sexual practices. I can’t define my self as a submissive or as a bottom.  Those are not a direct, linked part to my identity.  It’s something I do.  But also, by doing, I can reclaim it, bit by bit, becoming more, going further in to myself and getting to know parts of me. Parts that are not constant, but ever so changing. Parts that I maybe have not been able to reach.

I think I might be looking for something. I don’t know really what, and if there is ever a final point in which I can rest, or if I even want there to be one, but in the meantime, I can rest in those discoveries I’ve done about myself today, in this minute. It is not about being essential. It is about exploration and appropriation of feelings, practices and structures.

 

Here is a clip of one of the ways in which Bruno is supposed to become straight.

I know, I know, the mockery of the military is brilliant on so many levels but there is one more reason why I’m posting this. Because the ex-gay movement exist and it needs to be meet and challenged for what it is.

I don’t want to pass judgement on those who seek council in the hands on the ex-gay movement. We live in a world that is homophobic, sexist, racist, misogynist, etc, and it can be so fucking lonely. What I will pass judgement on is those who exploit the fears that they themselves manage to maintain.
They are, in short:

Utter Fucktards.


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