Archives for posts with tag: sex

By Jade

Middle-aged men.  Exactly nine of them.  The nine who comprise NKOTBSB.  They will don more sequins and rhinestones than you wore to junior prom.  Jordan Knight will look like a more handsome, fit version of your dad and sound like Frankie Valli after a hard day.  All nine will thrust their pelvises and sparks will fly. Not metaphorically.  I’m talking about actual pyrotechnics, synchronized with the motion of their taut, sexual hips.  The big screen will flash a tight shot of Donnie Wahlberg’s junk, it will be glorious, and you will screeeam.

Middle-aged women.  Thousands and thousands of them.  When they bought their first NKOTB cassettes, they wore braces and paint-splatter leggings.  Today they wear denim jackets over flowy tops, accented by wedding rings. They will squeal with delight when Joey McIntyre croons, “Girl, I’ll be your boyfriend.”  They will believe him.

Twenty-something women.  They will also wear flowy tops–but from Forever 21 and not Kohl’s–over short shorts and gladiator sandals.  They will get a little misty when Nick Carter takes the stage.  They’ll sing along to “As Long As You Love Me” and perform dramatic reenactments of the “I Want It That Way” music video.  They’ll update their Facebook status no less than three times during the concert and post a photo album the next day.

Girls who dress up.  They come in packs.  Some will wear hand-decorated T-shirts professing their love for Howie “Latin Lover” Dorough (who is mad creepy, btdubs).  Some will rock neon wigs in colors that clash with their tights and manicures–on purpose, of course.  They will be drunk.  They’ll ask you where their seats are when they’re standing right in front of them.  In a moment choreographed against the line “Am I sexual?”, they will all throw lacy thongs onto the stage.  Nick Carter will put one down the front of his white satin pants.  Yes, really.

Boyfriends.  Fourteen of them, total, in a crowd of 20,000.  They will have beers in both hands.  After the show, they will be treated to you’re-the-best-boyfriend-ever-for-coming-with-me sex.

Naughty by Nature.  Because, apparently, NKOTBSB is down with O.P.P. in New Jersey.  (No, seriously.)

Photo credit: Perez Hilton

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By Sophia

You’ve got to read about the SlutWalks that have been happening across the country. Whether you like the moniker or not, it does make us, as a society, look at the ways we view women who dress and/or act provocatively and question what it really means to be a feminist and to be sexually liberated.

What I found most striking were the student dialogues in which “there’s always a but”, referring to the fact that while most people agree that no woman deserves to be raped, we should still look down on and askance at those women who dress provocatively because they are “asking for it”. The idea that there is an unspoken agreement on a line of what’s “sexy” and socially acceptable for a woman to wear and crossing that line into what’s “slutty” and garners “the wrong kind of attention”.

And the truth is I’m guilty of this too. I’ve totally looked at another female in a certain kind of dress, shoes, make up, breast exposure, ass exposure, tightness of clothing and thought to myself, “OMG, does she know what she’s doing?”  But regardless of how much of her body is exposed, how she flirts, or how drunk she gets, she still doesn’t deserve ANY of the “wrong kind of attention”. The truth is I, and plenty of other people, need to stop believing and perpetuating the idea that a woman is “inviting” bad behavior from men when she dresses or acts a certain way. Or from me. ( I need to stop whistling at the girls on their bicycles whose thongs ride up and become visible to the general population. Seriously.) I think there’s a quote in the article that aptly states “Stop telling me how to dress and start telling men not to rape.” It’s actually really that simple. The real issue at hand here, that men AND women are not addressing, is that by looking down on women who dress provocatively is perpetuating male privilege. And we’ve all heard that stuff.

  • Boys will be boys
  • He can’t help it
  • Guys think with their dicks
  • He was drunk
  • Of course a guy would do X, Y, or Z
  • He’s just saying that
  • He didn’t mean it
  • He’s a guy

This is bad! This is really bad! When we excuse this behavior we are saying two things that aren’t true and are detrimental to both the intellects of men and women:

1- Someone other than the man himself is responsible for his behavior.

2-No matter how educated or well raised a man is, his default nature is a predatory one.

And both of these things are bullshit. I think about the good men in my life and this is an insult to them. I think about the women I know and they are in no way responsible for when they’re male counter parts or significant others are assholes. An individual, regardless of their gender, orientation, or genitalia, unless psychologically impaired, is ALWAYS responsible for their own behavior. And demeaning that responsibility, or adding to it, based on the aforementioned criteria is not treating everyone as equals.

Now, I don’t want to write this and not address the the word “Slut”. Women have mixed feelings about this word. According to the article, younger women are more likely to embrace it and rework the force of the word into something to be reckoned with, and older women are not interested in reclaiming it for the purposes of activism because of its connotation. Valid points, both very respectable opinions. But let’s take the word at face value. (I can’t resist this cheeziest of essay moves…)

Dictionary.com reads:

slut-

-noun

1. a dirty, slovenly woman.
2. an immoral or dissolute woman; prostitute.
Even if a woman qualifies as all these things, if she says “No.” to someone’s sexual advances…It. Still. Means. No. And I don’t care what the failing-at-doing-your-damn-job-administrators or the frat boys at Yale think, touching a person against their will is illegal and straight up fucking wrong.
Let’s take the word in it’s more common usage, say, a person who tends to have sex with multiple people at different or simultaneous times for reasons ranging from simple enjoyment of sex to serious self esteem issues, and employs risque modes of dress and behavior with which to attract potential sexual partners. This person may be female or male. This person may or may not have strict standards for sexual partners, hell they may not have any all. They may not be practicing safe sex. They may expose themselves to dangerous people and environments, having questionable judgment. They may be a frumpily dressed English major with two student jobs in a long distance committed poly amorous relationship trying to get through her senior year at a challenging institution just looking for ways to unwind after a hard day’s work who always insists on condoms, proof of being clean from STDs, takes her birth control everyday, who asks random interesting and/or good looking guys at parties if they want to go back to her room on a regular basis on the condition that they submit to the above terms and are single or also in a sexually open relationship of some kind. For funsies. Any of these people, any combination of these people, is still allowed to tell you “No” and you better fucking listen.
Lastly, I want to address, well dress. Women have a LOT of fashion to choose from, not to mention that it’s more socially acceptable for women to don menswear than vice versa, leaving us ladies with, well, all the fashion (cue evil laugh). I can wear pants, skirts, vests, turtle necks, stockings, corsets, bow ties, neck ties, cuff links, chains, leather, lace, silk, satin, cotton, leggings, heels, slippers, oxfords, bikinis, or nothing at all in some places, and it’s all good, baby. And I can wear any of those things for any reason.
I feel gross, I haven’t showered today, jeans and sweatshirt and pull my hair back.
I feel good today, it’s sunny, it’s Friday, I’m going to wear a skirt and a v-neck tee and maybe some fun patterned Ray-bans.
I’m going out with my boyfriend, I’m going to wear a low-cut dress and strappy sandals, and line my eyes and put my lip gloss on in the car so he can watch me do seductive things with my mouth in the sun visor mirror.
I am going out with my girls tonight and we are going to be the center of attention, so I want to wear my tight short black dress, my platform pumps, gold eye shadow, the big gold hoops with my name on them, lots of mascara, and no bra.
It is laundry day and I have absolutely nothing clean to wear except this old prom dress. So I will dress it down with this grey blazer and hope people don’t think I’ve lost my marbles.
I would never deny that women, and men, are guilty of wearing things specifically because they want other people to notice them or because we’re trying to communicate things with our clothes, though sometimes what they’re trying to communicate alludes me (and I am so going to hell for that). Sometimes we do it with no intention at all. I wore short shorts the other day while I did some errands because it was really hot and I wanted some more color on my legs so I wouldn’t have to nair them again for a while. And then when I was outside walking, minding my own business I got some hollers and honking from men driving past in their cars and I was like Wha-? Oh. Right. Shorts. But regardless of what we wear and why we wear it, people can look, shout, and honk all they want, but they don’t have permission to touch your ass just because it’s in view. Besides, rapists don’t care what their victim is wearing. It doesn’t’ matter if it’s anal floss or a burqa. They care about opportunity. Even more creepy, women are most likely to be sexually assaulted by someone they know more so than by a stranger checking them out. Although “non-stranger” isn’t specifically defined. Just because I know your name, you bought me a drink, and we’re dancing together doesn’t make you a “non-stranger” to me…
The last thing I want to point out is that I, personally, sometimes want to dress very provocatively, just cause I want to. Cause I think it would be fun or cool. But I admit I’m afraid to because I’m afraid of the attention it could draw. I can deal with car horns and “Hey mama!”s. But I don’t want a guy standing abnormally close to me, breathing down my neck going “Ay, girl, you look good.” Cause that is, well, gross.
I was in Vegas for Memorial Day weekend, and, well, Vegas is actually the place I would dress like that because that style is so pervasive there that it’s ubiquitous. I consider it the place to go if I want to get my feet wet wearing a tiny dress and stilettos in public for the first time. However, I saw something that was difficult for me to watch and that was a large woman in a VERY short dress, short enough that, well, I would rather refer to the dress as a really nice shirt that she chose not to wear with pants. But even then, regardless of what I thought or felt about her choice of attire, it doesn’t make her any less of a person and it doesn’t give anyone the right to accost her or touch her. And going off that, I shouldn’t feel like I can’t wear a mini skirt unless I’m out in a group. No one should be afraid to wear what they like, makes them comfortable, or makes them feel nice about themselves because they think it will incite lascivious or derogatory proclamations from the general population.
So, if you’re still reading this what I want you to take away from this post is that no one deserves to be raped, regardless of what they’re wearing, how they’re acting, or who they’re with. Even if they are a slut.

By Sophia

You may have read about the more conservative and/or ignorant populations of St. Louis getting their panties in a twist over an interracial couple smooching on a magazine cover. I learned about it by reading an article on The Root about one interracial couple and their life in the perspective of the upcoming anniversary of Loving Day. There was also mention of Strom Thurmond’s half-white daughter, and TJ ‘n’ Sally. What I liked was the historical perspective that all of these different articles lent to the situation, i.e. that people of different phenotypic outputs have been bumping multicolored uglies for a long ass time. Some of my favorite examples include:

  • Ancient Egypt Crossroads of trading nations on the east end of the Mediterranean where intermarrying was a common practice, especially to bolster and insure trade agreements. “Hey Pharaoh, my people would really like to keep eating, even in winter, so here’s my daughter. We’ll be in Gaul, come visit when you can!”
  • The Silk Road From the Middle East all the way to China, Europeans, Africans, Semitic peoples, and Asians got a chance to swap loads of DNA for a couple of centuries.
  • The Conquistadors Don’t let the slight tan and Spanish language fool you, the conquistadors were white people, and when they got to Central and South America they began banging the native women out of wed lock, while supposedly there to protect the same priests who preached that non-marital sex was sin, and since the natives weren’t married under a Christian guise, they were all living in sin, then BOOM! A whole new race, the Mestizo. Wonder what that word means..?
  • Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade As gross as this sounds, basically, if you were a white guy, and in some cases a white woman, and you wanted to know what sex was like with an African person, you could literally go buy one and take them home. How do you think we got African Americans? The likelihood of a present day Black person in America being descended just from early slaves is slim to none. Go ahead and Google some native African people, then some American Black people, you’re going to notice a lot of differences.
  • Present Day America’s melting pot has allowed for all kinds of different mixtures, we got some halfsies, we got people like my sis who’s a quarter Korean and three quarters Black, and then kids like my newest nephew who is half Vietnamese, a quarter Black and a quarter Mexican. I knew a girl back at Princeton who was half Jewish and half Indian (from India). Maybe twenty years ago this was rare, but the brown skinned curly haired masterpieces of these mixed unions are increasing every year.

It really should be just a “OK, get over yourselves” kind of moment, but after reading some of the comments regarding the cover picture, I ended up being more of the mind with the authors of the articles: Have we really not come that far? It’s one thing, and a very negligible thing, when a couple old guard racists decide to bitch about an interracial couple locking lips. It’s completely different, and an important litmus test, when so many people post a negative response that some of them are taken down and the overall number of posts gets limited.

Granted, if you wanted to be technical, neither of my parents are white, but that didn’t keep my Mexican grandfather from telling as many racist jokes as he could think of when my father brought his Black bride-to-be home to meet the family. And I don’t even want to know what my grandmother was thinking when her Black daughter said she was going to not only marry a Mexican, but convert to Catholicism… However, after I was born, and before my dad cheated, things were cool on both sides of the family and my grandparents eventually became not only respectful but invested in their offspring’s pairing. What a lot of people don’t realize, usually because they don’t want to because it would turn everything they were brought up with on its head, is that we’re actually not that different at all. Regardless of your background, ethnicity, culture, orientation, or color, we all just want to find that one person, or group of people, who make us happy and want to be with us and love each other.  Now, once you’ve found that feeling with your chosen mate(s) and you know how good and how complete that feels, how fulfilling it is, how could you then want to keep that from other people? I’ve never really understood that…

I went through what I’m sure many people go through at a young age where you believe you are too ugly, too different or too crazy for anyone to ever love you or want you. And I did believe that for a long time. Even after making out with a couple boys, and a girl, I just thought maybe ’cause I’m ugly they think I’m easy so I’ll just play along because who’s gonna ever really want me anyway? It wasn’t until I met a white boy who changed all that. For whatever reason, he decided I was attractive and asked me out on a date. And then later, when he got the chance to write for a local magazine, he wrote about me, not in a love interest kind of way, just in a “Hey, I met this really interesting person who brought up an interesting idea for me to write about” kind of way, which let me know that he was into me intellectually, not because I was brown. We all want to be loved, but not for a few parts of ourselves, but as a whole person. I was completely smitten and took the article as a compliment and keep a copy of it my closet. Unfortunately, things never panned out between the two of us because we lived further apart than a conventional high school romance could allow, even with the DC Metro to aid us. But during that brief time, and on a few other days over the course of the next six years, I couldn’t believe that there was someone who thought I was interesting and cute, and wanted to kiss me. It felt amazing. And once I realized it could happen to me I could finally start the road of self acceptance and realizing my self worth. And you don’t have to be brown or female to know that that shit is hard!

I bring this up because what I’m trying to say is that experiencing, giving and receiving love is something I believe to be not only crucial but necessary for human development. We need it and anyone who thinks otherwise I believe is kidding themselves into a long bitter life. Now, while we’re still fighting and waiting for marriage equality under the law for all couples, at least on the basis of race, on your melanin content, I just want those of you who don’t think people should date, marry, or procreate outside of their race to think about the people you love, to think about how much they mean to you. And what your life would be like without them. Think back to when you met them. Was it love at first sight? Did it grow over time? Or were you friends and then one day it just hit you like a brick? However it happened, I bet you can agree on one thing: It was completely out of your control. We don’t choose who we fall in love with anymore than we choose who we’re born to. We can limit ourselves to a certain set of people and give ourselves a better chance of falling for a certain type of person, but even that’s not a guarantee. I hope that you can take that and let that start to open your heart and your mind to the possibility that non-normative couples just want to be happy and free with the people they love. That’s really all it is. And trying to get in the way of that is really the same as saying, “You don’t deserve to have a full human experience and to become a fully mature human for reasons that are completely not your fault but that you should be punished for anyway.” And that just makes you an ass hat. Think about a hat on an ass, srsly. Makes no sense, huh?

For those whose minds cannot be massaged into a more open point of view, don’t worry. Eventually you’ll all die out in time and you won’t have to live among the sane and tolerant any more.