Saturday, April 14, 2012

on sluts

I was at my local bar the other day. I had been writing all day and needed a break. I do that sometimes. It is very practical since I know most people there and live around the corner. I ran into a male acquaintance of mine and we had a rather pleasant chat. We happened to leave the bar at the same time at around midnight. As I was returning from having retrieved my coat I caught the bartender – whom I also know – winking to the guy. “I see you got lucky.” he said.
Can you believe that?” I asked the guy as soon as we were out the door.
I know. Silly.” he said, “Don't give it another thought.”
Well, I obviously did, mostly because I couldn't understand why I had been so disproportionally bothered with a silly comment like that until I realized it wasn't about that at all.
In my life I have been called a whore. And a feminist. On numerous occasions. Both assertions are rather misleading and excruciatingly tedious as a) I do not consider myself either and b) I do not regard either as a bona fide derogatory term to begin with. So, usually, after the proverbial shrugging of the shoulders I never gave such conclusions about me or more accurately said women like myself another thought.
I have been called a whore and a feminist. The “blows” were delivered directly and indirectly alike. Harsh language was sometimes deployed and then on other occasions a subtle, sneakier approach was used. But the message as to what I was – or what I could potentially be perceived as if I wasn't smart enough to play by the “rules” – was loud and clear.
It pays to be the good girl. Let stagnant waters rest. Embrace what has never been challenged and thank society for protecting you from your evil self. Ignore the standards we have set for you without your consent and you will be branded with a scarlet letter the size of your head, ostracized, ridiculed. Speak against the Rules and you can go about the rest of your days branded as a man hating caricature with hairy armpits and a few spare bras to burn for no particular reason.
It seems to me that there is nothing I can say – which doesn't make me sound like a pathetic little pushover – and no decision I can make regarding my own body which wouldn't have me doomed.
I was born in Greece. This is where I spent my early childhood. For those who are not that familiar with the land of gyros, eternal sunshine and clueless economics, Greece is a strictly Orthodox land. It says so explicitly in our Constitution. The land basking in pride of past magnificence, the same which gave the world democracy has been failing to protect its own ideals and values for centuries. Amidst pompous yet all the same unfounded reassurances that freedom of religion (never from, by the way) and the secular nature of the state “in all ways that really matter” the core issue remains.
There is no separation between state and church and, indeed, some are “more equal than others”, namely the Greek Orthodox Church. Blasphemy is still a punishable offense according to the Greek Penal Code (even though it is doubtful whether anyone has been punished under Articles 198 and 199 lately, given that the injured party has been notoriously silent for the last 2000 years at least, and the rest of the believers are just as guilty as each other when it comes to everyday cursing of all that can be cursed, Mediterranean style, and yes, deity included as a casual stroll down a busy avenue will quickly demonstrate).
The church is directly subsidized by the state, never properly taxed, with the education and salary of its clergy paid by tax money – a sizable portion of which stems from people of no faith like myself. And of course women are especially “cherished”. There is an entire peninsula up north with a clear border and special police to guard it from dirty little things with a vagina. Mount Athos it is called and it is delightfully welcoming to all those who wish to visit and possess a penis.
As a child of a secular family I nevertheless had to endure years of forced and rather shameless catechism at school where I got to be told under no uncertain terms that I was a curse. A potential harlot. Of course the word was never used and the fat bellied priest commissioned to teach us how we are all flawed - boys and girls alike – and lead us safely into servitude did his best to appear kind, unassuming even.
God loved both boys and girls, I was told. But girls had been especially naughty and let god down. It was called the “forbidden fruit”, the apple that symbolized our greed and ungratefulness towards the kind creator (or indeed perhaps something as tedious as the much dreaded sexual act). And Eve just couldn't help herself. Like Pandora before her, her true female nature got the better of her. Curiosity, lust, manipulation. All female traits. This we were actually told explicitly. Female nature, traits hopelessly engraved into our very being. Destined to be equal to someone a lot more equal than ourselves. The perfect harmony... man is the head of the woman as god is the head of the church. The travesty of the notion that the first man begot the first woman and not the other way around. God loved both boys and girls. But Eve had let him down. And we all have been paying dearly ever since.
And that is just the innocent part. The rosy image thrust forward into our faces early enough so that it may be imprinted deeply enough to quench any doubt that might arise in the process between being children and relying on what we are being told and adults in a world of rapidly shared information which can no longer be controlled or censored. The really dirty stuff is kept a well guarded secret, reserved just for the highest level of brainwashing for those who are so hooked by the drug freely served to them while the state lays idly on its back, violated by those one has no option to elect and no choice but to accept as major influencing forces. Ironically, the “secret” is kept by the most powerful method of concealment. Hidden in plain light. Available to anyone who wishes to read what we are not told at school, what is never brought up in the loving sermons, “god's” opinion of women is stripped naked and looking uglier than my ex. Only no one bothers to look. Reading takes effort. Thinking even more so. And with “salvation” in the bag why bother?
For those who do make it to the highest level of devotion verses such as the following “women submit to your husbands as to the Lord” [Ephesians 5.22] “For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior” [Ephesians 5.23] and an astounding plethora of purely misogynistic passages in holy books and religious commentaries alike would fail to shock them. They have already been convinced of the impossible.
So, let's get back to the part where I get to be the slut shall we? Once we accept that I not only descent from that treacherous Eve, but also have to carry god's stamp of disapproval through the centuries, the slippery slope is not that subtle.
Virginity. Is there anything else praised in the Bible more explicitly than a stretch of skin between our legs? Used to arbitrarily reenforce the divine nature of the alleged offspring of a Jewish girl some 2000 years ago, the absolute absence of sexual experience has been praised like no other thing has ever been praised before or since. Society has since evolved and most people in the Western world today have managed to finally reject virginity as a means for measuring another human being's worth in today's society but are we really free from this “requirement” in a real sense of the word?
Truth be told, the vast majority of people do not hold any unrealistic expectations about a woman's past. It is short of a given that people can and will derive pleasure from the voluntary disposition of their bodies in ways that would have the most conservative among us blush in shame and curse instead of joining in, but the double standard is alive and well and messing with us all, making sure those who favor pleasure never do so without a persistent thorn in our sides and those who don't have a ready and respectable alibi and a legitimate outlet for emotions varying in value from the classic sour grapes to a more complicated human yearning to somehow find an avenue traveling upon which would validate one's moral supremacy over another. For, if a person can be summarily discredited according to something as mundane as sexual activity no additional effort needs to be made. Case established. There are sluts and there is us. Line drawn. Distinction made. Nothing more to ponder upon, and there is thousands of years' worth of lore just to make it easier.
Challenging what so called figures of authority, such as church leaders and the like, have to say about our sexuality is a relatively recent privilege. The best we women could hope for in the not so distant past was a good old burning at the stake (ratio of women witches tortured and murdered for their supposed alliance to the devil in the New World alone 20 to 1) But are we really in a position where we can genuinely claim to be free from medieval prejudices? Can we claim to be enlightened in an era that – granted – we may not be stoned for speaking in favor of premarital sexual relations (let alone engaging in them), but when all the same we participate in what seems to be a perfectly sociably accepted practice of slut shaming?
Women were considered to be a man'sproperty in many societies. The vessel through which children come into the world. And in the pre Maury era it was let's say not uncommon for the heir of the father's wealth to resemble, say the milkman. There can never be any doubt as a child's mother but the father is yet another issue.
So chastity was:
"upon t h a t all t h e
property in t h e world depends." 54 As for adultery, "confusion of
progeny constitutes t h e essence of t h e crime; and therefore a woman
who breaks her marriage vows is much more criminal t h a n a man who
does i t . A man, to be sure, is criminal in t h e sight of God; b u t he
does not do his wife a very material injury, if he does not insult h e r ;
if, for instance, from mere wantonness of appetite, h e steals privately
t o her chambermaid. Sir, a wife ought not greatly to resent this. I
would not receive home a daughter who had run away from her hus-
band on t h a t account.55 . . . Wise married women don't trouble them-
selves about infidelity in their husbands . . . . T h e man imposes no
bastards upon his wife."

says a much celebrated ethograph of British Society and morals and recent research from the Liverpool John Moors University suggesting that 1 in 25 fathers are blisfull in their ignorance while raising another man's offspring, gives him at least some credit. Kingdoms and castles depended upon the authenticity of the heir, so sex was something women were not supposed to even like, but rather endure.
Good women were never perceived to be sexual beings. We were rather conquered, seduced, somehow persuaded by the wreched creatures with a penis into “giving ourselves” to them. This was the way things were programmed. Men were supposed to be the only party to benefit from the sexual act while good women were supposed to endure it – and always within the marital bed. And phrases like “why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free” have since gained mementum and are regarded as words of utter wisdom by many people even to this day. Powerful men, from Henry the I to George IV were expected to have multiple mistresses while women were expected to remain either virgins or chaste within marriage (there was of course a third “option”, the actual prostitution but let's not go down that road just yet)
Things are of course different now. Greece remains a deeply religious country but the “acceptable morals” of the land have drastically changed. Virginity is no longer a vital requirement for marriage and people are free to enjoy pre marital sex, to have access to contraception and abortion services. We all like to think of ourselves as modern citizens of the civilized world and none of us feels comfortable even thinking how scary it is that within our lifetime phenomena still persisted such as the celebratory display of the bloodstained matrimonial sheet the morning after the wedding in the villages (for the honor of which many a rooster have met their gruesome end) and which continues to this day in modern day Greece in the Roma communities (the analysis of which deserves a whole different article) but are we really as free as we think?
Sometimes I get the feeling that ours is a generation of confusion. A time of no clear identity, no proper beliefs. Caught between the past and the future we embrace the benefits we can get and celebrate our new found freedom but at the same time we seem very reluctant to let go of the one weapon we had upon which we can emerge the better person. The better Christian. The better mom. The gauge against which most people will and do fail. The product of dual morality one reserved for ourselves, equipped with all shorts of allowances and excuses we don't actually need, and one for all the rest. Of course people are having sex. They may even choose to boast about it in their young and drunken years of vanity. But good women are still mongoamous and prefer stable affairs. They don't change their partners like they change their shoes. Whether those liaisons would eventually lead to marriage or not is besides the point. Women exhibiting a casual sexual behavior are still “sluts”.
Which brings me to the second “accusation”. No, I am not a feminist. I never identified myself as such – even though I must admit I find it rather baffling that the notion should attract such volatile negativity. I am not one, not because I do not hold the core issue of the movement to heart [which by the way is not to castrate all men, but to ask for equal rights for both sexes in all aspects]. Far from it. I demand equal rights for everyone. That includes homosexuals, people of a different color, whether their boobs are big or their nose is funny, I don't care. I identify more with the notion of a human being. I do not hate men. I am not afraid of men. I do not wish to wage war with men. I do not believe value and intelligence have anything to do with sex. The reason why I am not a feminist is because my greatest hero in the world – that would the coolest father of the universe – also happens to embrace the same values and he made sure to pass them along. For my father, there is nothing I couldn't accomplish regardless of my sex and he made sure I knew it. So I guess I never had to be one.
I was not even made aware that my having a vagina might be an issue in any aspect of my life. The first time I came across sexist remarks was at school when one of the boys told me “I should go back to the kitchen where I belong” and I told him to suck it (I did get much better with my comebacks in time though). But as I said not for a minute did I take any of this seriously. People could either accept an inequality or not and I have always lived my life as an equal. There was no debating and no fighting. Perhaps it was wrong. But that was the reasoning.
Of course, I had difficulties as a small blond woman in a male dominated profession of criminal defense. Of course I felt intimidated at times and yes, in some cases even scolded, but I never made it out to be about my gender. People seek other people's weaknesses by which they can attack in an environment like the criminal court. And when they don't find a legitimate one they will make sure to create one. What I did instead was try to turn my “disadvantage” into an advantage. And it worked. My opponents were too quick to underestimate me and they did so always to their detriment. The police officers were polite to a “lady” and never complained when a prison visit lasted a bit longer than visiting hours. My clients trusted me. It worked fine. I thought we shape the world we live in by vewing it one way or the other and I wasn't prepared to view it as a place where I had to struggle for recognition.
So why am I writing about sluts again?
I guess a time comes when some issues become harder and harder to ignore.
When the Bishop of Thessaloniki, a ruthless taliban of Orthodoxy with a bad habit to stick his nose where it doesn't belong (namely my bedroom or politics for instance) made his – now infamous – sermon about how we are all whores, people laughed. Including me. So, according to Anthimos any sexual relationship outside the Orthodox marriage is whoredom and those engaging in such activities are whores. Couples opting for a civil matrimony and followers of other faiths worldwide included. Of course no one can take this lunatic seriously, only problem is a lot do. Still. And when Rush Limbaugh launched his disgusting attack on Sandra Fluke, the courageous law student who testified about contraception he echoed our own looney toon. The world was accordingly appalled but not everyone. A very big portion of the people in America of today backed this man's vile stream of vomit as the chose to stand against their country's moral downfall, (which of course would be inevitably be brough about by women controlling their own reproduction). Countless documentaries spring out of nowhere to attack the notion of feminism and the preposterous premise that women may wish to enjoy a sex life the same way a man does instead of bringing children she has not wished for into this world. And the fact that to this day small girls are held down in order to have their clitoris mutilated by other women so that sex could never be an enjoyable experience for them – as demanded by the good girl doctrine which knows no borders makes the issue even more serious. It concerns us not as women but as human beings.
Feminism is bad we are told. It promotes the sneaky agenda of the supremacy of the female gender over the male. It destroyes the family unit (just like gay marriage will) and feminists are ugly, men hating zealots or lesbians for that matter. A woman becomes enslaved through her liberation and unhappy in a miserable existence of being exploited by men for sexual reasons (because as I mentioned before, women give sex to men, something like a favor). They are objectified through their revealing clothing (adorned for the benefit of men of course, never for our own enjoyment) and inviting – practically begging for – rape.
And this nonsense has been drilled so deep into our minds it has become an instinct. It is perfectly acceptable to advise a woman to not go out unescorted. To not dress provocatively. To not drink. As if any of these things will make rape less likely. As if any of these things were to ever attribute some form of contributory negligence burden to the victim of a crime. Instead of teaching men not to rape we still teach women not to get raped, and we should know by now that this simply isn't possible.
I believe the turning point which led me to the active defense of logic and reason against deeply rooted superstition poisoning our lives was an evening spent in the company of some young Maroccan activists (otherwise educated and softly spoken) in Brussels. It was a summer night and I had to listen to them calling me a whore. Not to my face of course. They were talking in general about how western women – like myself – are such an insult to them with their uncovered arms and vanity and how they – we – all deserve humilating rape as a “punishment” for not submitting.
It's not as if they haven't been fucked before.” added one of them.
So. yes. It matters.
Because just how can a slut be defined? Is it the way she dresses? Is it her job? Is it the way she thinks? Is it the number of her lovers? And if so how does one get the appropriate number to fit the definition? Through bartering (because I am sure 72 was not the initial number of the virgins offered in the islamic afterlife)? And who is the authority to decide that? And what should her punishement be? Degradation? A swift drop in her value as a marriable comodity? Rape? Stoning? Where does it stop?
I am a liberal person. I treasure freedom, especially now when I read enough and I have seen enough to know not to take it for granted. That of course alone automatically makes me a whore (and a feminist). People assume that because I condone any sexual behavior between consenting adults that I also indulge. That, of course would be nobody's business but my own. I am not about to embark upon an analysis of my sexual habits. Just like most women I know, no, I do not sleep with every man I am seen speaking to at a bar. No, just because I slept with someone in the past doesn't mean I will automatically sleep with you as well. The fact that I am not a virgin doesn't make me fair game. If you see me sitting alone it is not an invitation. It seems I can hardly ever win. If I call you I am a stalker. If I don't call you I am a lesbian. If I don't sleep with you I am a prude. If I sleep with you I am a slut who will sleep with everyone. If I use contraception I am apparently trying to destroy society's fabric and if I don't and happen to get pregnant then I am idiot and have to deal with that but of course abortion is evil (and that should cover both liberal and conseravtive audiences)
Society is evolving and one of my greatest wishes right now is for people to stop obsessing about what is found between our legs and concentrate on what is between our ears. Much more more happiness will come to us if we treat each other like human beings and not like potential players to our innermost fantasies. Sluts are dead. Get used to it.