Tags: pain, reviews, sex education, Sexuality, TMI
(Not into product reviews? Consider this a warm-up before we get to the juicy stuff, as I’ve been out of practice with writing for awhile.)
My partner and I have a love/hate relationship with the Pinwheel, a medical-device-turned-sex-toy.
That is to say, I love it and my partner hates it.
[Description: A silver device with a long, thin handle resting on white cloth. A circle is attached to one end. There are something like 20+ thin, sharp points, each equal length, sticking out from the circle.]
What we’re looking at today is the Pinwheel, which some of you may recognize for what it really is: A Wartenberg wheel. The Wartenberg wheel is a medical device originally designed to test nerve response. It was developed by Robert Wartenberg, a doctor specializing in neurology, who practiced in Germany until he fled to the US in response to persecution by the Nazis. Wartenberg syndrome, a pain condition, is named after his work.
I don’t know if the Wartenberg wheel is still used in clinical practice, as most of the google results for a it point to the device’s use in kink and BDSM activities instead. Somewhere along the line, someone figured out that using the spiky wheel on yourself or on a partner could feel good in and of itself – at least outside of a clinical setting. Nonetheless, because of its original intended use, some readers here may not want to incorporate this into their sex lives – it may have too clinical of a feel, and it has the potential to be genuinely painful.
How and why would one go about incorporating something so sinister looking into their sex life? According to Babeland, it’s a sensation toy. I don’t 100% know what that means, but a label like sensation toy seems to indicate that, what you’re using is supposed to introduce new physical feelings – touch that you or your partner don’t usually feel, like sharpness instead of softness, metal instead of flesh, cold instead of warmth, and so on. It’s to add variety rather than to speed up orgasm. For example, I like to incorporate it into massage with my partner, though this can break a deep state of relaxation.
Now there is one problem with my Pinwheel:
[Description: A close up of the wheeled spike circle on the end of the pinwheel's handle. There are clearly some prongs all bent out of shape at the very tips.]
I think mine’s broken, and I’m not sure if it got messed up during shipping or if it got all bent out of shape the first time I was taking it out of the packaging. Either way it was like that when it got here.
In practice, the 3 bent prongs don’t seem to make much of a difference. The points are small enough so that I can’t tell the difference when my partner rolls the bent part over me. But the bent parts have gotten stuck on my hair, so it could be a problem. And the bent parts take away from the device’s aesthetic – it doesn’t look pretty and I find the bent parts distracting. So sooner or later, I’m going to need to replace it.
In other words, if you decide you’re interested in such a wheel, don’t pick one out if you notice any problems with it. Hold out for a nice new one. Once you have one, handle with care – the Pinwheel is more fragile than it looks.
It makes some noise. Because it is made of metal, and the wheel has to be free to move, the device jangles around when you pick it up. Once I recognized the sound it made, my partner was no longer able to sneak up on me with it – I could hear the metallic parts clinking together.
It’s lightweight, especially if you can hold the entire handle in your hand. It could become tiring to hold if you can’t get a good grip on it, or if you have to hold it from only the very bottom of the handle.
When rolled over skin, the metal points will leave little red dots behind in a long unbroken trail; how long it takes for these marks to fade will depend on your own biology. The sensation is difficult to describe – have you ever just barely noticed the feeling of an insect crawling on your skin? If you look down at your arm or hand, yep, there’s a critter on there alright – and at this point you (I) usually kick or flick it off. To me, a light touch with the Pinwheel feels like that, minus the gross-out realization of “Ew there’s a bug on me!” Medium and heavier touches feel much more intense and surprisingly widespread. The wheel may be rolling over only a small part of one of my limbs, but the feeling and muscle tension reaction will spread all the way down the limb.
When my partner uses it on me it makes my muscles tense up involuntarily until the stimulation stops. I’m not sure if this is good or bad for me, since those muscle contractions include my pelvic floor, and my pelvic floor is already messed up as it is – what that means is I can’t decide whether or not it would interfere with Kegels. Heavier touches on healthy skin border on pain but so far do not cross the threshold into actual pain.
So although I enjoy it, in contrast, when I tried it out on my partner, it didn’t go over so well. The spikes produced a lot of skin welts, a little red pinprick of blood, his wriggling away and finally, after a few generous attempts and “I don’t know if I like it yet,” a final “No more I’m done I hate it.” He is still willing to use it on me at my request, but he does not understand why I like it. I don’t have an answer. But clearly this is not the right toy for him.
It’s relatively inexpensive, though the price can vary widely – between $4 – $20, depending on where you buy it from. A Pinwheel from Babeland (which is where I got mine from) will set you back $20, but you can get the same thing for less through Amazon (this might be a more innocuous option if you share your computer with someone who would not appreciate navigating it towards adult-themed sites.) Supposedly there are expensive versions which are more geared towards medical use in a professional setting, though I did not find them during a cursory search.
I do have some caveats before you rush out and pick one up. It broke my partner’s skin, so there’s a risk it could break yours, too – watch out for bodily fluids. It’s stainless steel and it can be cleaned, but most of us probably don’t have the means at home to truly sterilize a medical instrument to medical standards. My partner doesn’t like the ticklish sensation it produces, so if you dislike light touches it may be too uncomfortable. It has the potential to be painful as well, and so if you are sensitive to touch it might not be the right toy for you.
As with all reviews posted on Feminists with FSD so far, I had to pay for this out of pocket with my own money, and I don’t get any compensation out of posting this.
Tags: books, communication, disability, experts, media, oral sex, sex, sex education, sexual dysfunction, Sexuality
Case in point from the recent Shorties II post: Presenting a book review for the purposes of sex education + product evaluation. The book in question at this time is, The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio: How to go down on a man and give him mind-blowing pleasure, by Violet Blue. Now in case you’re wondering, “K, why is there a book review regarding fellatio on a blog about female sexual dysfunction?” The answer is, “I decided to read & review this book now, mostly for personal reasons. Also I need to clear away some stuff in the book backlog before I can justify making any new literature purchases.” I read the Kindle version, second edition, which tops out at about 2,400 locations or 256 pages. Here’s a Google Books preview to get you started if you want to look at it.
The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio covers a lot of ground. It’s not just a book of tips written just for people who perform oral sex; it’s for the recipient of oral sex as well. For both the giver and receiver, there’s a lot to think about – what to do, what’s happening to you and your partner, and ways to make sure both parties feel physically & mentally comfortable during the act.
The book provides a detailed anatomical explanation of the relevant body parts – mouth, tongue, throat, penis, testicles, and yes the anus, prostate and pubes. Body fluids are described in frank terms. Blue does present some bullet point lists of tips, but she also provides detailed, how-to instructions that wouldn’t have fit in a short list. She also addresses the cultural baggage and negative attitudes around fellatio – sexuality, especially men’s sexuality, tends to get oversimplified (“Insert tab A into slot B…”) and fellatio in particular is often associated with dominant & submissive gender roles. It doesn’t have to be that way. On the other hand, for some folks, D/S gender roles are a turn-on, and Blue acknowledges this flipside as well in the discussion of BDSM and fellatio towards the end of the book.
The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio is particularly helpful when it comes to safe sex. There’s a chapter talking about ways to make oral sex safe between partners (the pros and cons of various barrier methods are discussed at length,) and the safe sex chapter even includes charts detailing the probability of contracting STI’s from giving or receiving oral sex. One interesting feature about the charts was the inclusion of the probability of contracting vaginitis (a vaginal infection not necessarily caused by STI pathogens,) from giving or receiving fellatio – the risk, according to the chart is, “N/A,” (location 661) or not applicable. Still I thought that was neat to remember it at all. I guess a chart including the risk of contracting vaginitis would be more relevant in the related Ultimate Guide to Cunnilingus book. Which I should probably also read and review.
Throughout the book, Blue addresses erectile dysfunction and disabilities – not just limited to physical disabilities; she explicitly wrote a paragraph on Attention Deficit Disorder, for example. I appreciated the inclusion of these topics. Blue makes it clear that, even if you or your partner are dealing with erectile dysfunction, chances are that fellatio will probably still feel good. (If you’re not certain, ask – the book emphasizes over and over again that communication is important.) Interestingly, Blue points out that certain disabilities may make sexual stimulation painful, even when there’s a penis involved rather than a vulva – she focused on Multiple Sclerosis in particular as a potential cause of sexual pain. With disabilities, erection, orgasm and/or ejaculation may be impaired, but that does not necessarily mean that the penis is non-responsive and that the owner of it does not feel and react to sexual stimulation. For people with disabilities such as spinal cord injuries, she also mentions “Phantom orgasms,” something I’ve seen talked about elsewhere – orgasm isn’t just a body reaction; the body is a shortcut to the brain. There’s still some parts about disability we can push for improvement on though; for example she uses the term “ADD sufferers” (location 1445) which implies that ADD equates with suffering, and at one point she says “You should never consider a disabled man asexual” (location 1432,) by which she probably means that it isn’t fair to de-sexualize people with disabilities… but then again with this quote, you get the whole asexual erasure thing going on. So it’s probably better to not make assumptions about the sexual orientation of people in the first place.
The last part of the book covers resources for learning more about fellatio, and these resources often coincide with learning more about sexuality in general. For example, the contact information for sex-positive retailers is printed (some of it may be outdated at this point though, because the book was originally printed in the early 2000s – you may have to Google some information to confirm if its still current.) There are some suggestions for pornographic yet educational films and how to enjoy them.
For the most part, I felt the book was written with a cis-gender heterosexual audience in mind. The book does talk about how to give and receive fellatio when performed on a strap-on dildo and how the act of fellatio can be subverted into a means to bend gender roles, but for the most part, penis = man = cis man. Most of the illustrative vignettes sound like they were provided from the point of view of opposite-sex couples, although I did see some gay and lesbian content as well. Speaking of which, there are some illustrative sexual fantasies described between chapters – these erotic short stories did nothing for me, but I am certain that is a personal thing. Your mileage with the written sexual fantasies will vary.
One thing I did not like about the book at all was the drawings. The illustrations are just terrible: The line art is shaky and near the end there’s an illustration of a guy receiving oral sex on the beach and one of his eyes is all like 0.- and it just looks weird. Technically speaking, Amazon isn’t supposed to sell pornography, (enforcement is another issue,) so I think the drawings maybe had to be below optimal in order to get the book past the censors.
So who might be interested in pursuing the pages of The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio? Who would gain the most benefit from reading a how-to on how to give or receive “Mind-blowing pleasure?”
Well for starters I’m actually becoming skeptical & jaded when it comes to any guide that promises such a claim. I know that book sellers gotta be able to move stuff off the shelves, but there’s so much human variation that it’s too hard to guarantee that anything can create that kind of sexual pleasure.
This would be a very good book for people who have not yet had any experience with oral sex, or who have had only limited exposure to it, yet who nonetheless have an interest in being the recipient or provider of such an act in the future. Because it covers such a wide berth of content, from Anatomy to X-rated films, (I couldn’t think of anything that starts with a Z – unzipping pants, maybe?) the book will provide plenty of information with which to brace yourself. I would suggest reading the book start-to-finish if you’re on the newer side. If you do not yet have a partner but expect to find one later, Blue makes some suggestions for practicing fellatio in a solo setting. (You won’t get the body language feedback but you’ll be under no pressure while tweaking your own techniques.)
One potential problem newbies may have with the book though, is that since it’s so detailed, it can seem overwhelming at times. As I was reading through some of the how-to suggestions, I found myself asking at points, “How is anyone supposed to remember all this?!” So if it’s too much to take in all at once, you may have to go back and skim parts of the text again later.
It would be an okay book for people who have some experience with fellatio and expect to continue participating in it, but do not yet consider themselves to be experts. If you are such a reader, then you can probably skip around to whatever parts you’re most interested in.
So for these two kinds of audience members, the book is most worth it.
I think the book would be less useful (and thus less worthwhile) for people who already have a lot of experience with oral sex. So if you think of yourself as “Advanced” in fellatio, (even theoretically!) then The Ultimate Guide might not be worth it. At that point, chances are you’ve already seen & heard most of what Violet Blue talks about. It’s still worth something; because it’s so dedicated to its topic, there may still be a few things you can pick up here and there… However, I think you’ll eventually pick up on those few things that you didn’t know about, by reading sexuality & sex education blogs, for free. Just hang around a few favorite blogs long enough (try some of the ones listed on my blogroll) and you’re bound to see the same subjects pop up, eventually.
For example, since I have read a lot of related sexuality material elsewhere, I found myself anxious to speed through the stuff that I already knew. I felt obligated to read everything for the purposes of this review but there was a lot of stuff I could have just passed over without a look back.
The Ultimate Guide to Fellatio may or may not be of use to people who do not expect to give or receieve fellatio in the near future. This is because if you have decided that it’s an act with no appeal to you, then the book may still provide you with insight into what’s on the minds of folks who do engage in it and why such folks will often defend it. But if you’ve already made up your mind that fellatio is off the table, then chances are no book will be able to change your mind and in some cases it will just be a waste of time. It could be irrelevant to you in this case.
I am not sure if this would be a good bet for sexual abuse survivors, because there is only a very brief mention of fellatio and past abuse.
So if price is a factor, then I think the $10 for the e-book version or ~$15 for the printed copy is worth the investment if you are new-to-medium in fellatio. If you feel that you’re advanced, then I think the $10 for an electronic copy is cost-effecient only if you are already heavily interested in sexuality books. Otherwise, if you know what you’re doing, then save your money and read some blogs instead. And if you know that fellatio isn’t going to happen then whether you would benefit from the book depends on your political or philosophical inclinations.
Tags: academia, experts, kink, media, news, psychology, sex education, sexology, Sexuality
A recent controversy in sex education involves one Prof. John Micheal Bailey, from Northwestern University. Professor Bailey teaches a Human Sexuality class to some 600 college students. He is a controversial figure, as described on the wiki page linked to – previous work includes his theories about homosexuality (he believes it is largely an inherited orientation,) and a book about transsexuality, which has been heavily criticized by trans activists for racism & transphobia (Plus Bailey engaged in unethical conduct while making the book.)
Bailey’s sexuality class includes optional events with guest speakers who talk frankly about sex & sexuality. The controversial event in question was titled, “Networking for Kinky People,” and the guest speaker was Ken Melvoin-Berg, associated with the Weird Chicago Tours group. Melvoin-Berg brought his partner and a kinky, engaged, exhibitionist couple with him to the event. (The couple has been named by some sources while others are keeping them anonymous; I’ll stick to the anonymity route here since outed kinky folk face safety risks.)
According to this Salon.com article, during the day’s lecture, Bailey presented a lesson on the G-spot. The Chicago Tribune says that the lecture included an educational video about the G-spot. Melvoin-Berg, his partner & the kinky couple arrived early, so they happened to be there for Bailey’s lecture and video. Melvoin-Berg’s group members were all unimpressed. So just before their speaking part was about to begin (after the lecture was officially over,) Melvoin-Berg asked Bailey for permission to demonstrate to the class what a g-spot orgasm looks like, in person, with a fucksaw. (Exactly what it sounds like: This is basically a modified power-tool with a dildo on the working end.) Bailey hesitated but decided that the demonstration would fall within the bounds of the scheduled speaking event, since such a demonstration is undeniably kinky.
So that’s what happened. The couple Melvoin-Berg brought with him, did exactly that – after giving an hour & half speaking lecture with a Q&A session first, according to Rabbit Write (the same Rabbit Write who organized Lady Porn Week.) When Melvoin-Berg’s crew finished the speaking portion of their presentation, the boyfriend used the fucksaw on his girlfriend and she had several g-spot orgasms in front of about 100 or so present students.
After that, the student newspaper reported on the event. From there, a lot of mainstream news sites picked up on the story. Reports about sex are easily sensationalized & they sell well or generate page views, whatever. So now there’s a lot of backlash & controversy going around now.
I can’t decide whether I’m in favor of this event or not. At first I was all for it – I thought, “That sounds useful,” and I understand that sometimes, written instructions, diagrams and educational videos fall short because they do not provide experience. I needed help learning how to find and then use my own pelvic floor muscles. Although I had anatomy diagrams and written instructions on how to dilate, I eventually hit a wall with my at-home dilator kit and needed to get physical therapy to progress with treating my vaginismus. (It was an incredibly clinical, non-sexual and useful experience – not really all that much different from rehabilitating any other muscle group, except for all the cultural baggage and weight assigned to people’s genitals.) But that was something I initiated, and since it took place behind closed doors, there was no risk of making anybody else know what was going on.
But then the more I read about Professor Bailey and the Northwestern University event, the more I started to change my mind & think to myself, “Hmmm… maybe this wasn’t such a good idea…”
Even Bailey himself has issued a formal apology, of sorts, for drawing such negative media attention to NU. If he could do it over again, he wouldn’t.
However, demonstrations like this have taken place before – just not on campus. Let’s all turn to Page 13 of Sex Toys 101: A Playfully Uninhibited Guide by Rachel Venning and Claire Cavanah. Some of the relevant parts are available on pages 13 & 14 from Google Books. Unfortunately not everything got scanned in – it looks like all the pictures are missing, and page 14’s relevant text is blocked out (It should be on the left side of the page.)
To summarize the relevant passages, the book says that a couple of years ago, sex educators affiliated with Babeland (then still known as Toys in Babeland,) took their G-spot program to a “Carnival-style book release party of a friend of Babeland…” (The next page says this event took place at a bar.) The sex educators set up a tent and one of them called out to passers-by, asking patrons to go in. People who went into the tent (up to 10 at a time) received a lesson in human female anatomy, complete with some suggestions for ways to find the g-spot. But the lesson didn’t end there, “Once they were inside, we gave them more than just a lecture.”
One of the sex educators took safe sex precautions (a glove and lubricant in this case,) and said, “Okay, who wants to experience it [a g-spot orgasm]?” So one lady and her boyfriend stepped up and the lady sat down in the hot seat. The description on page 14 says that this volunteer took off her underwear & used a vibrator on herself, so onlookers would have her masturbating. Then the sex educator with the lubricated glove on inserted two fingers into the volunteer’s vagina & found the g-spot. It’s not clear from the text on this page whether the volunteer had an orgasm on site. The text makes it sound like this scene was repeated throughout the evening.
So one reason I don’t fully understand exactly what the problem with the February 2011 demonstration is that there’s precedent for g-spot demonstrations just like the one at Northwestern University. This already happens. The show-and-tell described in the Sex Toys 101 book didn’t use a video, puppet or a piece of fruit as a stand-in.
On the other hand, this article from GoodVibes says that events which GV hosts do use stand-ins or clothed volunteers. So okay, sex educators can go either way when it comes to live demonstrations.
At first I thought the reason the school program caused so much controversy is that it must have been paid for with school funds, because that’s what was going on when feminist pornographer Tristan Taomino was initially un-invited from speaking at Oregon University. The student newspaper says that NU has events sponsored by Weinberg College of Arts and Sciences, and this Chicago Tribune article says that NU provides funding to Bailey & his speakers (including Melvoin-Berg but not the kinky couple) via this organization. But according to this statement from Bailey, he arranges the class events at “Considerable investment of my time, for which I receive no compensation from Northwestern University,” which makes it sound like he pays for the class’s extra-curricular speaking events out of his own pocket. So now I can’t follow the money trail because there’s like 3 different things going on there. (Maybe the school doesn’t pay him for the time it takes to arrange speakers but it does cover their fees? Like, no overtime pay for whatever networking is required to set everything up?)
So far what I’ve read about the event says that, participants who stayed for the demonstration aren’t the ones who are upset about it – as of 3/6/11, Bailey says that all the feedback received from attending students was positive. It is people who were not present for the show and found out about it afterwards that are registering complaints. They’re upset that it took place at all. I’m seeing similar complaints in comment sections of articles summarizing the event, and the negative comments usually contain some variation of “Immoral,” “distasteful,” “exploitative,” or “sick.” Something to that effect, which focuses on the content of the demonstration. Since kink is widely misunderstood & berated, I’m thinking that such comments would inevitably be made of such a demonstration or sex act regardless of the setting.
Every once in awhile a commenter will bring up the viewers’ ability to fully consent, which I think is a stronger argument against the demonstration, since it was spur-of-the-moment. An event like this should have required time to plan it out and better distribute information about the content. There wasn’t time to include this on the syllabus, basically (though being an optional event, it wouldn’t have been required either.) But even then, the articles say that Bailey & Melovin-Berg took steps with the limited time they had to make sure that the students understood what the content of the demonstration was going to have & that they had the option to leave without penalty, which some students did exercise. Yet, one student Bailey’s class explicitly told the media, “Then, just out of nowhere, the girl just takes her pants off, takes her shirt off, takes her underwear off.” That the student used the phrase “Just out of nowhere” suggests to me that adequate preparation for the students was nonetheless lacking. It should have come from somewhere. This student, though, also acknowledges that students were given adequate opportunity to leave.
So with regards to what the real problem is with this NU event, I keep getting different answers – including the “Nothing wrong” answer. I can’t pinpoint it down. But having done just a cursory background check on Bailey himself, even I am now resistant against throwing all my support behind him too. Will NU administrators be more translucent with their investigative findings now than they were when claims of impropriety were previously leveled against Bailey?
P.S. Good god almighty can I just express my own frustration with this entry – this was hard to research; every source I checked had different pieces & I couldn’t get a comprehensive tell-all! And then before I knew it I had 1600 words and okay fine, up it goes.
Tags: blogging, lady porn day, media, pornography, sex, sex education, Sexuality, TMI
I’ve gone from having writer’s block to not being able to stop writing. Whereas today’s earlier Lady Porn Day post presented an overview of experts in conflict over pornography’s place in sexuality, this one will be more in keeping with the theme of LPD: To talk about my own experiences with porn. While this post probably squeaks by as SFW, it’s still TMI ahead, it goes behind a WordPress cut. Everything should still appear in your RSS feeder if you’ve subscribed though.
Tags: addiction, blogging, compulsion, experts, Feminism, lady porn day, medicine, pornography, psychology, sex, sex education, sexology, sexual health, Sexuality
February 22 was Lady Porn Day, a blogging event organized by Rachel Rabbit Write. This is the same blogger who, last year, organized “No makeup week.” In this case, “Day” is something of a misnomer, as today is actually the last day of the week-long Lady Porn event. (A good thing, too, considering my recent writer’s block.) In an interview with the Huffington Post, Write said the purpose of Lady Porn Day was to, “Essentially to celebrate porn and masturbation. I’m inviting everyone to talk about their porn experiences, share stories and to ultimately share their porn recommendations. This is about not only opening up a dialog about how porn is good, but also how porn is hard, how it can be an issue for women, in terms of dealing with guilt or body image or their sexuality.”
What’s been on my mind for awhile and has finally been knocked loose by this event is the subject of pornography and sex therapy. I’ve been thinking about this topic because I’m seeing a conflict between sex therapists who embrace pornography as a healthy & valid part of human sexuality vs. those who view it as the source of all kinds of sexual problems. Sex therapy is a possible treatment option for some folks with sexual dysfunctions and problems, so clients could find themselves in the middle of a political, academic & psychological tug-of-war between experts.
I’ll show you what I’m talking about, but with a caveat: you must bear in mind that I myself have not had sex therapy and I have absolutely no desire to do so, to the point where I’m actually quite resistant to sex therapy as a treatment for my dysfunction.
Whether or not sex therapists and sex educators are pro-porn or anti-porn looks to me like it’s largely a function of their own personal politics.
Notable sex educators who have articulated porn-positive arguments include the following:
Dr. Marty Klein is a long-term sex therapist and author who is very much anti-censorship and who consistently defends the use of pornography. He does identify as feminist and is clearly pro-choice; however one theme I’ve noticed in some of Klein’s writing is that he is critical of feminism – or at least, select vocal feminists and feminist groups. Oh well, so am I.
Dr. Leonore Tiefer, a feminist sexologist who is highly critical of female sexual dysfunction and so spearheaded the New View perspective of FSD (a perspective which I myself am highly critical of,) likewise recognizes a valid place for pornography in women’s sexuality.
Jessi Fischer is a sex educator who you may know better as The Sexademic. She recently got into an academic debate about pornography, opposite Gail Dines and Shelley Lubben – two notable anti-porn activists. (Each side of the debate was joined by additional activists, so it wasn’t just Fischer Vs. Dines & Lubben.) The pro-porn side of the debate came out on top – the audience members voted on who made the more convincing argument and decided it was Fischer’s team.
Dr. Carol Queen, sex educator with GoodVibes, wrote a post in favor of porn and Lady Porn Day – which makes sense considering her involvement with instructional & graphic sex videos. Most porn is not for educational purposes, but there’s some out there that is.
Nonetheless, porn-positive activists can be critical of porn. Pornography can, and often does, have problems. Criticisms of porn from sex-positive therapists may consist of something like, “This element is good, that element is neutral, and if you will look over there there, there is the element is the inherently problematic one that needs fixing.” And the element that needs fixing may be something like, the marketing of porn rather than the content itself. A great example of this took place a few weeks ago when actress Nicki Blue elected to film her first vaginal intercourse experience for the pornographic website, kink.com. The initial marketing for Blue’s film shoot was highly exploitative and inaccurate.
But I’ve seen activists, educators and licensed therapists go in the opposite direction too, and come down hard against pornography. Often this stance against pornography is lumped with a warning against sex and masturbation addiction – which is another extremely controversial topic. However, I’ve repeatedly seen more acceptance of the term “Compulsion” instead of “addiction” to describe obsessive sexual behaviors, to the point where such behaviors interfere with someone’s personal or sexual life.
Dr. Mary Anne Layden is a clinical psychotherapist and Director of Education at the Center for Cognitive Therapy, part of the University of Pennsylvania. In 2004, she went before the US Senate to talk about the so-called dangers of pornography. In another interview with the Washington Examiner, she talked about the process of becoming addicted to porn when she said, “There’s always an escalation process. We don’t know what the threshold is, and those with addictive personalities will start it earlier. But I see a lot of people who didn’t show any psychological problems before [viewing porn].”
Jason McClain is a UK therapist who considers himself to be a former porn addict. He runs an organization, Quit Porn Addiction, and now he counsels clients who likewise want to break away from porn.
Dr. Alvin Cooper is a sex therapist and director of the San Jose Marital & Sexuality Center who contributed to a documentary, A Drug Called Pornography. According to the linked synopsis, this film’s thesis is that, “Pornography is an addiction. Its effects on users and their loved ones are just as habit-forming and destructive as heroin, tobacco, or any other addictive agent… The program features disturbing interviews with pornography addicts, many of whom are convicted sex offenders. They talk frankly about how pornography affects their psyches and systems, coloring all their activities and relationships.” And according to this Time article, Cooper also gives seminars about addiction to cybersex.
In addition, Googling search terms such as, “Sex therapy addiction” or “Sex therapy porn” brought up many, many more results for therapists and organizations that prominently feature treating sex and masturbation addiction among their services.
I am confounded, though not surprised, to see that sexuality experts with licenses, teaching jobs and more credibility than me have not come to a unified agreement on porn’s place in sex therapy. It’s not surprising that sex therapists haven’t come to a standard approach on how to deal with pornography, because there’s precedent for a lack of resolution: Pro-and-anti- porn debates in politics, academia and feminism remain unsettled.
But it is confounding, because who am I supposed to believe, and why?
Actually, I have been convinced by the arguments of the porn-positive side. I especially appreciated Violet Blue’s analysis of the for-profit agenda of major anti-porn activists. This analysis, and others like it, also note that anti-porn rhetoric is also often anti-masturbation – a healthy sexual activity. There are numerous other arguments in favor of pornography that I have heard which have contributed to my “Up with porn” POV… the only reason I’m not getting into them right now is because it will take too long to document everything.
Though I’ll also admit that most porn has problems which could and should be handled better (but won’t,) and, like just about any other tool, it can be used for the forces of good or for evil… and everything in between.
(Plus I’ll admit to some potential bias – I have a subscription to a porn site which I regularly check on. I have not noticed any ill effects from doing so…)
So there’s a couple of scenarios with regard to porn use that I envision as potential problems in a sex therapy setting. While I have no experience with sex therapy myself, I nonetheless speculate that these scenarios have probably come up before many, many times in clinical practice. So I would be surprised if practicing therapists and educators didn’t have tools in place to address such situations. How could such conflicts not come up?
The problem is, because so many google search results for “Sex therapy addiction” or “Sex therapy porn” result in facilities looking to treat addiction to porn & masturbation, I am not able to find out what these client-therapist conflict-resolving tools may be. The search results are too bogged down with stuff I’m not looking for. (Little help? Anyone?)
One of my concerns is with regard to pornography and sex therapy is that if you’re entering into a therapeutic relationship with a licensed professional, there’s inherently going to be a power imbalance. The therapist has probably had more exposure to educational materials, which may have their own biases & agendas. You and your therapist are probably going into that relationship with some ideas about pornography to begin with. If there’s a match between your beliefs and your therapist’s, then in terms of personality you may not have a problem, and you may be able to swiftly work out a plan of action. But if you and your therapist have conflicting beliefs about pornography as a tool in your sexuality, then you may have a problem.
So what happens if you are someone with a sexual problem or dysfunction who just happens to have a history of porn use? If you find a sex therapist who is anti-porn, will your previous or current use be zoomed in on as the source of your problems to the exclusion of other contributing factors?
Or what happens if, due to the conflict between you and your therapist re: use of porn in sexuality, you decide to find another therapist? That may be possible, depending on your geographic location. Finding a good therapist may take time and transportation, depending on where you live and what sort of resources are available in your area. Checking my own local area via the American Association of Sexuality Educators and Certified Therapists, I was surprised to find one licensed sex therapist! The next “Local” one, though, would be about 45 minutes away by car – not exactly the worst commute, but certainly not convenient, either. Finding Kink-aware therapists may be another option.
I’d like to imagine that sex therapy may be easier to provide now and in the future though, thanks to technology like Skype, though this is speculation – I do not know if there are any therapists willing to use this remote communication service with clients. But, hypothetically, if I were very unlucky, then I might be stuck with a therapist I don’t agree with, or no therapist at all.
Basically, for Lady Porn Day, like many bloggers my concern is what happens to the porn users and their partners who are stuck in the middle of it all. This conflict between professionals is unlikely to be resolved any time soon. The most neutral article about porn use in a relationship was this one from About.com, which says, in the end, “Whether or not pornography will add to or lessen a couple’s sexual enjoyment is up to each couple.”
Tags: books, communication, experts, female sexual dysfunction, Feminism, FSD, guest post, language, orgasm, relationships, sex, sexual dysfunction, Sexuality
[Dear internet, we have a guest poster today! This is a post by pro-BDSM activist Clarisse Thorn, who blogs at Pro-Sex Outreach, Open-Minded Feminism.]
I’ve been working on a long article about my experiences with sexual dysfunction. It’s a project that’s been in the making for quite a while, but now that I don’t have so many distractions I’m ramping it up.
This is a complicated and difficult subject for me. I have a satisfying sex life now — I’ve gotten pretty good at communicating with partners, setting boundaries, seeking what I want, and masturbating to orgasm. It took me a long, long time to get here, though, and I had to get through a ton of confused feelings. Not just about coming into my S&M identity, though that was certainly a factor, but also dealing with feelings around the orgasmic dysfunction itself — for example, feelings about how my apparent inability to have orgasms meant that I was broken. (I had and still have some vaginal pain, too. Not every time, not even most times, and nothing overwhelming — but enough that I’ve developed coping mechanisms.)
In order to write this article, I’ve been going through a lot of years-old journal entries. One quotation particularly struck me:
[My boyfriend] comforted me the other night when I broke down and cried. I wept and wept and he said it was okay, you’re not broken, there’s nothing wrong with you. It’s okay, he said, not to want sex. But I do want sex, I’m just sickened and terrified and disgusted by it, and I don’t want to be anymore. I want to be able to watch sex scenes and not be enraged and disgusted, to read sensitive ones and not collapse in tears.
I wasn’t entirely sickened and terrified and disgusted by sex, of course: I often liked it. Loved it, really. Sex usually felt good even before I could have orgasms, even before I’d found S&M, even before I’d parsed out my feelings and learned more about sexual media such as porn. And I’ve talked a lot about how awesome and sex-positive my sex education was.
But I knew I was missing something, something crucial and integral to my sexuality. And I hated the way society seemed to always be informing me how to sexually act: I felt crushed into approaches that obviously weren’t working, weren’t meant for someone like me. It was hard to walk the line between craving sex and being unable to stand it.
Here’s another excerpt from my journal, around the same time:
I really hate reading explicit sex scenes. I didn’t used to hate it as much as I do now, and since I broke down in tears during the last one, I guess it’s pretty obvious why. Jealousy and hurt and hatred of the ideals I feel like they’re trying to forge into me, [one ideal being] that love and sex and particularly orgasm are all irrevocably intertwined, and that by missing out on orgasm I’m missing out on not only an aspect of sex but of love.
But mostly I guess the discomfort does come from not wanting to read the intimate details of another’s sex life … and the jealousy for the orgasm, still there, too deep to banish. Christ, it’s fucking ridiculous. I shouldn’t be this miserable about this. It’s so fucking unimportant in the grand scheme of things. — but the tears that startled me in my eyes as I typed tell me just how unimportant it really is to me, I guess.
I started reading some sort of book on having orgasms and wept all through the first chapter because it was so miserably true. And because it was so miserably true I feel as though I ought to read the rest of the book, just give it a chance and go with it, and maybe make it that way, but it hurt so much and I’m so scared that it won’t work, and then I’ll be really unhappy. (A reaction the book even outlined, by the way. Yes, it’s about as true as it gets — the only thing I’ve ever found seems to understand how I really feel about this.)
The book that struck me so much is the monumental For Yourself, by Lonnie Barbach. It’s a famous book. I searched it out at the San Francisco library recently, and spent an afternoon sitting around the Mission branch, trying to locate the passages that once touched me so much. A few quotations:
Do you sometimes feel that you would be happier if sex were eliminated from your intimate relationships altogether? If so, possibly you feel abnormal in this regard, or like a misfit or not whole as a woman. Or, perhaps you just feel that you are missing something everyone else has enjoyed, a part of life that you’d like to have be a part of yours, too. You probably feel as if you are one of only a few women who have this problem. But the truth is that you are far from alone. (page xiii)
A real fear that can keep some women from doing anything to solve their sexual problems is the fear of failure. When Harriet joined the group, she didn’t believe she could become orgasmic. She said, “If I tried, I’d only fail, and then I’d be really miserable.” … Harriet eventually did defy her fears, as did all the other women mentioned. It takes time and effort to counteract these fears. It means saying “I’m afraid” and yet pushing beyond. (page 14)
Is it because you’re embarrassed to ask for what you want at a particular time; afraid your partner will refuse, get angry, or feel emasculated? (page 15)
Empathetic and accurate so far. (As it happens, the only lover I ever directly asked for help during this orgasm-discovery process refused and got angry, which just goes to show that being afraid he might react that way was not all in my head.) Merely confronting so much understanding was hard to face.
But, although I read it a long time ago, I think I’ve figured out what it was that made me unable to read further: the way Chapter 1 ends is a bit much. The last page of For Yourself‘s first chapter contains this:
You have to assume responsibility and be somewhat assertive. Our culture has taught us that a woman should depend on a man to take care of her, which means she can blame him for any mistakes. It’s nice to be driven around in a car, but it’s also nice to be able to drive yourself so you can go where you want to, when you want to. But to do that, you’d have to assume some responsibility.
Well, okay. Except that how do you assume responsibility for something if you have no idea where to even begin? If you know something’s missing but you’re not sure what it is? If you’re sure your partner will be frustrated and resentful when you ask for help?
Orgasm involves us surrendering to what we’re feeling, and really rolling with it, even if and when it feels very emotionally precarious. It’s control we’re letting go of, really, and that’s harder for some folks than others.
I’ve been an off-and-on sex & gender geek throughout my life, so I already knew these things intellectually. I’d already absorbed these ideas: that I must both take responsibility for my sexuality, and lose control in order to enjoy it. I think even then I knew that both of these ideas are actually good advice. But the problem is that they’re often put in patronizing and less-than-helpful ways. For example, “It’s nice to be driven around in a car, but it’s also nice to be able to drive yourself so you can go where you want to, when you want to. But to do that, you’d have to assume some responsibility.” Condescending as hell! To me, those words implied that I was making myself into a helpless child. Pulling a wounded-bird act and forcing other people to take care of me. I couldn’t stand the idea that I was doing that!
I am frustrated by the insensitive guilt trips that often happen, even (especially?) in feminist and sex-positive circles, where people will sometimes act as if these things are simple, as if it is oh-so-easy to stand up and take on one’s own sexuality and Just Deal With It. Especially when you’re in a situation where you know for a fact that some men you have sex with will resent you if you’re honest about not having orgasms, and yet you don’t know how to have orgasms and aren’t sure how to start on the journey. What then?
Some women end up faking in those contexts (I didn’t very often, back in the day, but once or twice I did). Of course, some feminists and sex-positive writers are especially unhappy about this:
I’m sure I’ll offend some choice feminist who thinks that it’s unfair to criticize women who make the totally autonomous choice to flatter a man with a fake orgasm instead of working towards a real one, but I’m taking a stand on this one. It’s un-feminist to fake, ladies!
I don’t advocate faking orgasms, and I actually also don’t advocate dating a man who gets angry and resentful when a female partner asks him to pitch in. (Oh my God, sometimes I have nightmares that I’m back in that relationship, and it’s been years.) At the same time, the idea that screaming “It’s un-feminist to fake!” will fix the problem is ridiculous. It’s the kind of idea that will just make feminists (like, say, myself many years ago) feel even worse about trying to figure out our relationships while not having orgasms. I see, so now not only am I failing to be responsible, I’m also un-feminist? Awesome.
This is not easy. It’s actually really hard. I get that people have to want to work on their sexuality, in order to do it — obviously I get that. But telling people that they’re being weak or self-centered or un-feminist because they aren’t sure how to do it? Or are actively pressured out of it?