By columnist Diana Pearson
This letter contains mature content
Dear Dirty D,
I am inspired to write this letter to you, because, as a man who has long identified as a sex positive or sex radical feminist, I am really troubled by what I perceive as a growing wave of anti-feminism in social media. I’m concerned that there is a connection between these anti-feminist narratives and the increasing availability of patriarchal pornography.
I’m writing this to you on the day after Valentine’s. There is significant public education around this “holiday”, and it tells us lots about how “our” relationships are supposed to operate. It’s a complicated celebration that mixes strands of the Roman fertility celebration, a Christian remembrance celebration for a martyr, and the capitalist “buy something to show love” ritual. But it’s not just purchasing that I’m concerned about in these ads, it’s something deeper; it’s the objectification. First, you learn to objectify love by turning it into a product that you can buy. If love can be so easily objectified, what about the body of your partner?
The same sex roles one can see in pornography can be seen in Valentine’s Day ads. In the ads ,only men are presented as people who make decisions and choices—the man chooses chocolate, dinner, jewelry, flowers, etc., and the woman necessarily swoons. This is a form of public sex education: men are active/women are reactive. I’m sure there is enormous pressure on women to be happy about their gifts.
This same set-up is true of public sex education: pornography. Men are presented an overwhelming image of sexuality that isn’t pleasure-based, and doesn’t happen for the mutual pleasure of two equal participants. It’s orgasmic, but it’s a functional orgasm that focuses exclusively on rushed penetration. Pornography is a form of public education that, I think, is causing a lot of damage.
The public sexual education men receive through pornography informs our private conversation from the time we’re kids, pretending we know what sex is. Men with big dicks are shown, over and over again, to be great lovers because, as far as we’ve been taught, dick size and sexual satisfaction are equated. Size matters and bigger is better. So big dicks get waved around like magic wands and women are pleased.
As a cisgender man who has been brought up to perform dominant masculinity, female pleasure is something that I was not taught to consider. I was very fortunate in my late teens to have an older lover who stopped me and said: “You are very enthusiastic and that’s great, but let’s take some time to understand a woman’s body. This is my clitoris.”
I was embarrassed and felt shamed. But, when I learned how to please her, I began to learn more about my own pleasure, and then about feminism. In my experience, radicalizing sexuality has become a kind of political project. It’s a radical pleasure-based way of fighting back against dominant masculinity. That’s a political project I can get behind.
And it’s a lifelong project. I still battle between the lessons I learned from her, and the public sexual education of pornography. The best sex of my life has been with women who actively resist pornographic reproductions of sexuality. And, not surprisingly, the worst sex has been with partners who fall into that pornographic education. Sexual patriarchy is not just practiced by men.
I have gone through times in my life when I have had to stop watching pornography because it was getting in the way. I would start having sex with a woman, and then, almost magically, an objectified woman from a porn flick would replace her in my imagination. The scary part is that, when this happens, she stops being a real person for me, and starts being an object. I would stop wondering about her pleasure and take it as a given that intense lovemaking would get orgasmic results. I’m sure she noticed. And I’m pretty sure it was mediocre sex at best.
I feel pretty confident saying that, because now I know when we both have great sex. And it is these times that I am able to stay focused on both of our bodies, I am able to pay attention and read her positive responses, to read her physical responses and to use these cues to sort out what to do next, what we explore next. It is also during these times that I don’t worry about what I look like, how long sex is going to take, or even focus on my orgasm. I knew we’d get there and I am now focusing on finding her orgasm. Getting radical about sex has also allowed me to forget the impossible body expectations of pornographic pleasure.
Finally, sex with other sex radical feminists has been the dirtiest sex I’ve ever had. I was always too concerned about power differences to explore bondage and BDSM. Together we began exploring bondage and sexual play, and it contributed to a loving and exciting environment.
I hope this letter might be a little moment of resistance against the pornographic and capitalistic sexual education currently dominating in our society. I think it’s important right now for male feminists to speak out against the anti-feminist discourse that is developing amongst men in conservative media. I hope this letter is helpful for other men who maybe haven’t thought about this before or who haven’t had the support to push back against destructive forms of dominant masculinity.
Signed, Anonymous
Written by an anonymous reader. The writer is a political science student interested in Indigenous self-government.
One of Diana’s passions is to encourage sex-positivity and open, shameless conversations about sex and sexuality through her column, “Dirtyin’ The Nav.” Her future path includes completing a Masters in Gender Studies and Social Justice, and teaching pleasure-based sex education. She is a non-fiction writer and a musician. As a copy editor, she revels in making The Nav look pretty.