Recently a Russian lawmaker asked his Parliament to consider allowing women two days paid leave every month when they menstruate. The said Russian is quoted as saying “during their period of menstruation most women experience psychological and physiological discomfort.” He then went on to say that in some cases women are so discommoded they require an ambulance. This rather over egged the pudding and took from his argument somewhat, I thought.
Needless to say, any comments I saw in response to the Russian lawmaker were entirely dismissive of his suggestion, which was regarded as sexist and silly. I mean to say, women are not in any way put out by the arrival of the monthly bleed. Periods are a breeze. Ever since the invention of tampons, we can even go swimming and horse-riding while bleeding. And sure with a reasonable supply of Solpadeine or Nurofen, you don’t feel a thing. Right? I mean, admitting that periods often make you feel really crappy is letting the sisterhood down, right? That would be a sign of weakness, a sign that we are.... well less macho than the guys. Right?
A while back I attended a sexual empowerment workshop with a group of female friends. The workshop was all-inclusive and (gasp!) interactive. The forty or so participants formed a circle in a high-ceilinged room; all plush sofas and weathered pine floorboards. Then, moving in turn to each and every individual, sexual preferences and experiences were openly discussed.
That’s right, out loud. With everyone watching, and listening. Of course, it was perfectly terrifying at first. But then, after a few brave and independent souls got the ball rolling, we all loosened up, the tense atmosphere dissipated, and we got very much into the spirit of things.
The chat was light-hearted, respectfully curious, totally accepting, and very little was held back. Toe sucking, lip biting, belly rubbing, you name it; it was all there, laid out on the table for all to see. The depth and breadth of people’s stories and quirks was amazing, and the variety that emerged in such a short time really struck me. My friends and I left the room that day in glow of ebullience, a new kind of dialogue opened up between us, a new spring in our collective step.
I think that the root of our elation that afternoon was the simple fact that opportunities for us to discuss sexuality in a non-judgemental environment and to talk honestly about what we want out of sexual relationships are so very scarce. We were uplifted after being encouraged to disinhibit ourselves in this way, and to throw the light on some issues normally only suggested at; vague dark shapes lurking somewhere on the peripheries of our conversations. In the sexual empowerment discussion these issues were pushed resolutely to the foreground, all shadow and light, in full relief, open and proud. We aired out insecurities and came bursting through the smoky miasma together with a fresh glee, clearing the room of all apprehension and doubt.
Why is it that we can’t speak to each other with such honesty and clarity so much more often? Things to do with sexuality relate to central aspects of who we are as women, and as people. Since that day, my friends and I have resolved to sit down together more regularly and ask one another: “How’s the sex going?” We do this because we’re tired of sexual experience, female sexual experience especially, being denied adequate voice. We are sick of the same airbrushed, far-removed addressing of sex being rehashed time and time again in those insulting, patronising publications we call (for want of a better categorisation) ‘women’s magazines.’ How many of us would truly want to claim that kind of didactic tripe as our own? Magazines which masquerade as something which endeavour to help us live a better life churn out ‘sex advice’ informing us how to please our men (if you’re gay you don’t even figure into the ‘advice’), and how to market ourselves acceptably, appearing submissive enough so as not to scare all the boys away.
My small group of friends and I are certainly not only ones who feel like we’re being hard done by. Many women are angry at the ubiquity of media messages peddling sexual ideals which are alien to us, so far-removed from anything we know. The problem is wider than the media too, with society in general ignoring the legitimacy of different types of experience, making women feel weird or deviant when they don’t conform to abstract ‘norms’.
Lisa Diamond wrote a book about female sexual fluidity. In it, she pointed out that there might be missing pieces in the scientific understanding of female sexuality on account of how much of the research has been conducted by men. She suggested that the current understanding of sexuality and sexual orientations might fit male experiences relatively well, but that the male-dominated landscape of the research could mean that a whole dimension of female experience has been effectively ignored.
This might seem like a thought bordering on the mind-boggling, but we must bear in mind that when it comes to research into something as variable and elusive as sexuality, variety of approach is key. This is because the kinds of questions that the researcher asks essentially determine what can be found, and also how the findings are interpreted. In turn, the kinds of questions you ask are dictated by your own experience in the first place. Therefore, only by having a body of research produced by a variety of different researchers of different genders, can we really develop a fully fleshed-out, true-to-life understanding of the nature of sexuality.
Variety is the spice and soul of life; it makes the world go round. To embrace a little more variety would make the world less dull, more interesting, and make many of us much, much happier. For too long women have had their preferences dictated to them. Those who switch from heterosexual relationships, for example, to preferring lesbian relationships or vice versa through the course of their lives have long been treated as curious outliers in research, and essentially ignored in popular culture. However, Diamond has suggested that this pattern may actually be an integral feature of the sexual experience of a large proportion of women.
Of course there are some things are changing for the better, like the emergence of some quite positive, sexually confident and outspoken role models in pop culture, such as the openly bisexual and gay rights campaigner Lady Gaga. It’s also true that many women are happy, in control, and know how to get what they want. But the freedom to do this still needs to be more far-reaching, and normal experiences and variations need to be looked on as such, rather than as deviancy and confounds. It’s great that pop culture figures are stepping out and talking about experiences that are not always heteronormative and docile, but we must go further than that, and show that you don’t need to be some kind of glamorous renegade to have attitudes like these. We all need to start talking about it, and asking one another “How’s the sex going?” and if it’s not good, then why not, and what needs to change?
We need to show each other that it’s cool to like what you like, and there are no universal standards of what’s normal. The only way to arrive at these understandings is to talk. There is a spiky urgency for better sex ed in schools, and a broader, more socially aware outlook permeating all classroom activities. Why do we think that LGBT students are having such a hard time in Irish education, and that gender stereotypes still prevail throughout many levels of our society? If children are shown early on that sexuality is not just black and white, but dynamic and multifaceted, and are given the skills to challenge stereotypes, it is certainly possible to develop a new level of confidence, acceptance and celebration of each and every kind of happy and healthy sex.
This is not as unrealistic as it may appear. A few changes to the way things are done could make leaps towards transforming a generation into one that’s naturally more open-minded, who wouldn’t be automatically inclined towards a sense of apprehensive dread before embarking upon a thing called an ‘interactive sexual empowerment workshop.’ Instead, they would see this as totally normal social discussion. Maybe then we’d all start demanding better representation in our media and our pop music, reflecting what we are really like, and not someone else’s money-grabbing prescription of what we should want to be like.
Unattainable standards and plastic portrayals of sex and bodies do men a disservice too. To say nothing of the negative impact which stiff heteronormative standards of masculinity can have on gay men, it leans dangerously towards creating a lethally boring and one-dimensional Gentleman’s Club of heterosexual men too, who are conditioned to lust after one idealised form of woman and sex because that’s what’s sold to them as normality.
Our bodies are for feeling, not just for showcasing. How wonderful if we could all get together more to reject the crazy things the media try to push on us, and get on with the far more important business of loving our bodies and learning to be more honest and true to ourselves. Let’s open the discussion and endorse the whole spectrum of variety, let’s sit down and communicate with one another. Let’s all ask each other, and ask ourselves, and answer honestly: How is your sex going? Who knows, the answers just might surprise you.
The sexual empowerment workshop mentioned in this piece was facilitated by Leslie Sherlock. Leslie has been involved with a number of different initiatives relating to sexuality and gender, and she also does research in education. She is an excellent speaker - sensitive and encouraging, but with a playful, light-hearted approach. Leslie has run many fun, engaging, and thought-provoking workshops like the one mentioned here, as well as facilitating discussion and training around heteronormativity and trans issues, among others, in a number of different locations around Ireland.
Article by Áine Travers
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