Confuse me once and it's my deal. Confuse me twice, and it's gobbledygook. Just short of balderdash. I don't know if sex positive labeling is bad for feminism (the idiotic nomenclature aside) but the comments on this article are interesting. With DS Kahn in the news, exercising his egotistical right to wield his penis, and some French media dismissing the whole horrible scene with "nobody died, did they?" I revisited the discussion in light of this ghastly behavior. I like sex as much as any humanoid, if I remember accurately how it goes. That's no one's business but mine. I do not define myself by my preferences, predilections or specific body parts. I insist that everyone stay the hell away from those body parts unless and until I invite sharing. That's it. No means no. Violence is violence. Forced sex is not sex; it's rape. Fondling without permission is assault. Class distinction has not one damn thing to do with whether a woman can be violated. French women bloggers have gone ziggity boom on the troussage de domestique Jean-Francois Kahn comment. Wearing a boa, high heels, make-up and a gravity-defying brassiere is not an invitation to attack. Neither is working as a maid in a hotel. But calling myself slut, bitch or any other demeaning label does not elevate my equality. I'm equal already. And I say when, I say how, I select wardrobe. Sexual cojoining is not a right bestowed on men, against the will of any other sentient being who happens to be in the vicinity of a predator. Voila. I am no longer confused. Whew.
Sunday, May 22, 2011
Sex Positive Feminism
Confuse me once and it's my deal. Confuse me twice, and it's gobbledygook. Just short of balderdash. I don't know if sex positive labeling is bad for feminism (the idiotic nomenclature aside) but the comments on this article are interesting. With DS Kahn in the news, exercising his egotistical right to wield his penis, and some French media dismissing the whole horrible scene with "nobody died, did they?" I revisited the discussion in light of this ghastly behavior. I like sex as much as any humanoid, if I remember accurately how it goes. That's no one's business but mine. I do not define myself by my preferences, predilections or specific body parts. I insist that everyone stay the hell away from those body parts unless and until I invite sharing. That's it. No means no. Violence is violence. Forced sex is not sex; it's rape. Fondling without permission is assault. Class distinction has not one damn thing to do with whether a woman can be violated. French women bloggers have gone ziggity boom on the troussage de domestique Jean-Francois Kahn comment. Wearing a boa, high heels, make-up and a gravity-defying brassiere is not an invitation to attack. Neither is working as a maid in a hotel. But calling myself slut, bitch or any other demeaning label does not elevate my equality. I'm equal already. And I say when, I say how, I select wardrobe. Sexual cojoining is not a right bestowed on men, against the will of any other sentient being who happens to be in the vicinity of a predator. Voila. I am no longer confused. Whew.
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