Dear Anti-Radical Feminists,
First, I am using my priviledges as blogmistress to refer to you as Anti-Radical Feminists. I think this a far more honest descriptor than “pro-sex”. Why? Well, the whole thing about sex is that I’ve yet to meet a feminist who was actually anti-sex. Dworkin came close, but only if you take the misogynist proposition that the only sex that is sex is good old penis in vagina wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am.
And that’s where I want to start off: your misogynist propositions that the only real sex is putting penises in vaginas or mouths or anuses and that we need to exhaust more effort to endlessly detail all the fun fantastic ways our fun feminist orgies can partake in heterosexual intercourse.
Because here’s the kicker: I’m not heterosexual. I position myself as “queer”, in that I have been attracted to men, but I find that it’s far more likely that I have relationships with other women who are typically more attractive and awesome in that way. What has been endlessly talked to death in feminist circles is all these marvelous things that we need to do to teach men about where our clitorises are, and how if we compose painful mental gymnastics we can even conceive of how M/f BDSM and ejaculating on someone’s face ceases to be a private neutral act and is actually an awesome fulfillment of feminist metatheory.
That’s all fine and dandy. I mean that in the most sarcastic way possible. What I see, time and time again, is that my experience is constantly erased. I have to twist myself in knots to find a feminist active in the blogosphere who is happily feminist and queer, and who hasn’t shacked up with a man and is presently enjoying straight priviledge. Yep, you can enjoy straight priviledge if you are queer and you live your life with a man. No shit.
But the thing is, I don’t. And there is this disgusting foul part of me that whispers when my ego is beaten and bruised that it would all be alright if I could just find some man, any man, and settle down with heterosexual privilege and pretend that I never did nasty horrible things like fall madly in love with my best female friend or find the back of the girl who sat in front of me in Astronomy lecture endlessly more fascinating than the modest amount of dick I’ve come across.
This horrible part of me rears its head often. I live closeted to all but my close friends and my father. So pretending to be straight means I’m very often suppressing the majority of my identity—namely, the majority that finds women really fascinating. Stumbling across yet another “pro-sex” defense of porking, blow jobs, anal sex, BDSM, and penis in vagina goodness exacerbates this to the nth-degree. It’s very easy to stumble across feminist defenses of privileged expressions of sexuality. Those feminists avow how happy they are with penis, how marvelous penis is if you’ve cured yourself of the Dworkin-induced paranoia of men, and how talking about heterosexual sex is a big no-no because it’s akin to homophobia and racism and you’re not really a feminist at all you fucking dyke, are you?
So this endless parade of “heterosexuality is so much fun” really isn’t much fun. Especially when I feel so goddamn alienated because of it. What really chaps my hide and blows all sorts of brain lobes is the assertion that I’m a massive misogynist bigot, like homophobes, if I question putting penis in vagina in the usual matter, or with a kink or two.
Assholes. Fucking shitbag assholes! The entire reason I tire of this endless fuckbag wankery over how blow jobs are so empowering is because it’s disgustingly homophobic and the biggest exercise of heterosexual priviledge in an ideology that thinks itself so much better than that. Shit. As a Big Bad Radical Feminist, I’m lumped in with 2nd wave relics who were, reportedly, big horrible homophobes who hated all transsexuals and maybe tossed around racial epithets in between dismantling all that is good in the universe.
Which is absolutely hilarious, thanks. 3rd wave feminism, if it’s really the driving force behind all this endless pontification about how dick is awesome, seems to me to be way more self-aggrandizing and privileged than any of the crouchity old radical hags that authored the texts that pepper my shelves.
I’m not talking about 3rd wave academic feminism, which is really all kinds of awesome and a godsend. I’m talking about blogosphere “hey, my boyfriend came on my face and I’m empowered!” feminism. It just seems to boil down to a bunch of women in their twenties and thirties who’ve settled down with a man (or have before or will), who like penis, and who really really want to talk about how Radical feminists are outdated harpies and they’ve seen the light! Evidently, the light is phallus-shaped and full of delicious bullshit, but I’m sure that you got that point by now.
So, to return to the title of this post:
Dear Anti-Radical Feminists,
You like penis. I get it. I got it on your last post about blow jobs in between how Dworkin is a total knob and you really heart Angelina Jolie and/or porn. I’m really quite happy that this endlessly self-reflecting homophobic world has provided you with endless avenues to explore your glorious and endangered heterosexuality. Please write another post on the clitoris and how to grind properly against a male pubic bone in the customary penis-in-vagina intercourse. I seem to have misplaced the two billion issues of Cosmo that do the same thing.
See, when you philosophize about how radical feminists (who apparently start and end with Dworkin, and perhaps Twisty) really hate sex, you totally erase the sex they were actually having and enjoying, which happens to be sex that I also enjoy. Thanks ever so much for ignoring my existence and the idea that sex doesn’t have to contain the almighty phallus. May I kiss your enlightened post-homophobic ass now?
See, I was laboring under the proposition that feminists were all about presenting new and ignored experiences. Dear Jesus and/or Buddha, how ignorant was I! Radical Feminism is apparently totally outdated because it’s just so damn easy to conceive of heterosexual intercourse without coercive, violent, domination/submissive narratives. Which is why nobody ever, in this enlightened age, uses their dick as an insult or weapon.
Ha! No. Thanks for playing. Seriously, where the fuck are these blow-job loving feminists finding men? I’m more likely to be whistled at on the street like a piece of meat or told that my breasts are violating dress code and distracting customers than coming across a penis-toting heterosexual specimen that doesn’t conceive of me as the very essence of filthy sexuality that needs to be contained, consumed, or denied. I engage in stupid pointless exercises daily to conceal the shape of my breasts and present myself as professional, all so the shitbag unenlightened masses don’t see my hips and boobs and equate me with a thing that exists for sex and because of sex. I do this and more, and then agonize over not doing it correctly (you never can, by the way) so I can have half the chance my male peers have just by virtue of having dicks.
If you think that you’re above that, you’re either (a) fooling yourself or (b) okay with this state of affairs because it caters to your priviledge. You can write all the goddamn articles you please about how having men whistling at you on the street is awesome and fun. Since I’m queer and have no desire to start anything with a man (thanks previous boyfriend: Mr. Fuckbag Non-Consensual Shit Is Awesome So Pretend To Be Asleep!) having men find me attractive in a predatory objectifying manner is totally not my cup of tea. Maybe it’s because I know that they think of me as tits, ass, three holes, and two hands rather than a human being. Maybe it’s because I’d like to walk around campus digesting the content of my last Ethics lecture without being reminded that my body exists for their viewing pleasure. Maybe it’s because I like to have sex with women more than men.
No, it’s not that at all. It’s actually the fact that I’m a prudish dyke of a Radical Feminist, who isn’t even properly queer (define your sexuality for me, you freak!) and has been either brainwashed by Andrea Dworkin or false consciousness theory beamed in from the USSR.
So, why am I so angry? It’s because I’ll find some feminist blog that seems legit and awesome, only for it to degenerate into a clusterfuck of Radical Feminists Are Horrible, or I Suck Dick and Enjoy It and Oh It’s Now a Feminist Act. I found one the other day that had an infuriatingly long comment thread of endlessly navel-gazing heterosexually privileged fuckbags that I want to take down sometime. But not now. Now, I’m too fucking angry. Maybe I’ll do it later.