comment post: unfinished thoughts on non-consensual sexualization

Regular readers of this blog may remember that over the past year or so I've been haunting the conservative Family Scholars Blog hosted by the Institute for American Values (IAV) think tank founded by David Blankenhorn, sometime high-profile opponent of same-sex marriage. In part, I follow the blog because my smart and funny friend Fannie is one of their guest bloggers. I am also deeply interested in the worldview of people whose understanding of how the world works, and what values will increase the well-being of humanity, are so different from my own.

Last week, I found myself sucked into a comment thread at the FSB wrestling with the subject of what I'll call "non-consensual sexualization." My working definition of non-consensual sexualization is public expressions which frame another person's appearance, presence, or actions in a sexual light without their participation or consent. You might also call this plain old "sexual objectification." I'm using my phrase here because I think it's important to highlight the non-consensual part of what's going on here.

(because I won't post naked pictures of myself online*,
have this lovely view from Montague Book Mill instead)

I've been thinking about non-consensual sexualization a lot recently due to feminist discussions of the internet phenomenon of revenge porn and also because of the question I got on Twitter about the ethics of real-person fan fiction (RPF), particularly RPF that is sexually-explicit (see my extended response at the end of this post). Both of these situations -- revenge porn and RPF -- involve taking people the creators know in real life (either in person or through media of some sort) and sexualizing those individuals. With revenge porn the intent is malicious and generally misogynist: to humiliate the subject by way of sexually-explicit images or sexually-explicit chatter. With RPF the intent is usually enthusiastic on the part of the creator: they're engaged in the act of fantasizing about the individuals (usually celebrities of some sort or another) engaged in generally positive sexual situations and relationships.

At the level of private thoughts, sexualization of others is something that many of us engage in every day when we take note of another person's gorgeous hands or sexy ass. When we enjoy the chemistry between actors in a television show, or admire the outfit of a passerby on the street. When we harbor a crush on our political science professor in college or wake up from a really hot dream about this kid we sat behind in first period English (or watched shyly across the room in Sunday school). I think of sexualization as the mental-emotional process of considering another individual in a sexual light. This can be actively desiring (if we imagine that person as someone we'd like to be sexually intimate with) or passively admiring (if they're either out of reach -- your favorite actress --or not someone you'd actually want to have a sexual relationship with, say someone not the gender of person you are oriented toward). This type of sexualization seems, to me, no-one elses' business. Our own interiority is a private sandbox for self- and world-exploration, the ultimate safe space.

However. Once we make private thoughts public, social responsibility comes into play. Which is where the FSB comment thread re-enters the discussion. Barry, the author of the original post, recounted an incident in which a (male) classmate at a swimming class commented to Barry in an aside on the (female) instructor's body as it appeared in a swimsuit. Barry was uncomfortable about the comment and later mentioned his discomfort to his classmate, who apologized for his remark. The point of Barry's original post was that speaking up about a comment you find troubling can sometimes be less dramatic than you fear.

Many women, myself included, thanked Barry for speaking up in this instance and holding another man accountable for the way he was sexualizing the female instructor of the class without her consent, creating a situation where the man's classmates (and potentially the instructor, if she had heard) would feel uncomfortable.

Yet several frequent (male) FSB commenters insisted that Barry -- and by extension those of us supporting him -- were basically taking all the fun out of (hetero)sexual flirtation and OMG thought police!! For example, Kevin offered:

Barry’s heart, as always, is in the right place: a public place, safe and welcoming for anyone who wants to be a part of it. And having the courage to object to someone’s unseemly behavior. But this sexy gal is also in a position of power, itself a safe space: presumably she can kick anybody out of the class she wants.

While Hector has other concerns:

If men refrained from admiring good looking women, I wonder how you think people would ever date or marry each other.

When a number of us pushed back against this reading, suggesting that there was a difference between thinking someone is sexy and saying someone is sexy in an non-appropriate context, these commenters dug in even harder, again refusing to understand the distinction between thinking and speaking:

So he’s not even allowed to THINK something about this instructor?? I’m glad the thought police have arrived! “That way” was compliment, by the way. ... Elsewhere in the pool, a woman whispered to another, “OK, I get it, this instructor chick is a babe. So she has to wear the skimpiest bathing suit around, in case we didn’t notice?!” ... Is that comment ok, or should the other woman voice her objection. ...This is hilarious! 

 Note how Kevin (above) assumes that I (the person he is responding to here) will not object to the two women sniping about the instructor's "skimpy" bathing suit, when in fact I would suggest that such body snarking is in the same class of inappropriate behavior as the presumed "compliment" of the man at the center of this discussion. Both types of speech create a social climate within the class whereby the instructor's physical appearance and bodily presence are seen as relevant to the teaching of swimming technique. Both comments sexualize and objectify the instructor in a situation where she is not authorizing that way of interacting with her.

As I said in the comment thread, we're not talking here about a request that the teacher move to a new location where all of the students can see her demonstrate a movement. That would be a comment relevant to the activity of the class. The teacher's perceived level of hotness is not relevant to her ability to teach her students how to swim. And to bring that evaluation into the class is rude. It's an example of non-consensual sexualization, and something which women and sexual minorities in particular experience every day.

While I was putting this post together, this TEDx talk on the gendered nature of sexual objectification came across my dash that explores the broader political implications of widespread, non-consensual sexual objectification:

(Yes: While it happens less frequently, straight cis white guys can also be non-consensually sexualized. For example, exhibit A: Romney/Ryan slash from the 2012 election cycle YES IT EXISTS.)

I don't have a major conclusion to this post, so I'm gonna throw it out to y'all: What are your thoughts on the ethics of sexualizing others? What does it look like to recognize our sexual interest in other people without treating them like sex objects? And -- perhaps most importantly -- how to we model a culture of sexual subjectivity and mutually-consensual pleasure for all in ways that encourage men like Kevin and Hector to re-think their notions of what constitutes wanted, sexualized attention?**

I look forward to your thoughts!

---

*I have some lovely photographs of my naked self which I've taken over the years in celebration of my bodily presence in the world. I've often thought of sharing them online, but I won't because of the way women who share visual images of their nakedness are punished socially and professionally for that level of self-disclosure. That self-censorship is one example of the pervasive sexual policing women (more acutely than men) face for publicly acknowledging their unapologetic corporeality.

**I mean, I managed to successfully express my sexual interest in the subject of my affection and panty-dampening desire without treating her like a hot commodity that I'm entitled to consume publicly without her active enjoyment and participation. So I'm totally a believer in the "it's possible" but I'm not sure how to help the unbelievers see the light here.

not punching someone in the face

Hanna was telling me a story earlier today from a meditation talk she listens to, in which a small boy is asked -- after a class workshop on mindfulness -- what "mindfulness" means. "It means not punching someone in the face," he replies.

The dharma teacher relating this story points out the kid is actually quite accurate. That practicing mindfulness in the world often translates into trying not to be that jerk that hauls off and hits the super-annoying bastard who's standing beside you on the subway.

Why am I telling this story?

I'm telling it because on Tuesday night, right before I got home from work at 8:30pm, Hanna answered a knock on the apartment door and it was a notice that on Thursday morning (approximately thirty-six hours hence) they landlords were sending in a pest control team to treat the apartment for bedbugs.

what used to be my room (Aug 2008)

Which we don't have.

But apparently someone in an adjacent unit does, so we're getting the abbreviated preventative treatment.

Though the two-page preparation leaflet we got handed on Tuesday night didn't mention anything about "abbreviated." And it made it sound like we basically had to tear our entire apartment apart and re-arrange it in spatially impossible ways. For example: all furniture at least eighteen inches from the walls, but with things like our bed out in the open where it could be treated. And if we were supposed to empty our closets into plastic bags and set them "aside" while the treatment was going on, um, where exactly was "aside."

This is a one-bedroom Boston apartment. There's not a heck of a lot of space going spare.

Thankfully, after some rather strongly-worded emails to the landlord ("We are disappointed that ..." and "While we appreciate the seriousness with which you are treating the situation, in future ...") we confirmed our apartment has no bedbugs (whew), and that the exterminators are only treating a few items of furniture. And we don't have to dismantle and quarantine our entire (material) life.

I spent most of Tuesday night wondering what to do with stuff like this.

So basically, we've had a lot of opportunity in the last 24 hours (and will have more opportunity, no doubt, in the next 24 ...) to practice not punching people in the face.

While, yes, bitching and angsting about the situation on Twitter -- as well as strategizing about what to do about things like keeping the cats safe, I also tried to keep in mind the opportunities for gratitude:

• WE DON'T HAVE BEDBUGS and don't have to destroy our belongings, relocate temporarily or permanently, haven't suffered through the discomfort of an infestation, etc.
• We have friends who unhesitatingly responded to our rather frantic email asking if our two cats could spend the day with them on such short notice, since humans and pets must be out for at least four hours post-treatment.
• We have understanding workplaces with generous benefits that mean we don't lose pay or jeopardize our jobs by calling out at the last minute to prepare the apartment.
• Did I mention we DON'T HAVE BEDBUGS?
• The weather is lovely right now in Boston, so we didn't have to put all our textiles in 30-gallon trash bags in 100-degree heat plus humidity.
• We can afford to rent a car to transport the pets to/from our friends' apartment, and
• This was the kick in the pants we needed to purchase a second cat carrier that we needed anyway.
• The woman at the management company's office who went out of her way to answer my (strongly-worded) email requesting clarification and assured us she would keep us, specifically, better informed in the future. Sometimes, it's worth being the squeaky wheel. Also, I truly appreciated her professionalism.
• While it's made for a stressful week, I am glad that our landlords are addressing this issue quickly and thoroughly; WAY better than to actually get bedbugs because they failed to clean up the infestation one flat over. And they're footing the bill. So. There's that.
• NO BEDBUGS.

Of course, the flip-side to all of these slips and slivers of gratitude are the "I'm not going to punch them I'm not going to punch them I'm not going to punch them" moments. To expect your tenants to prepare for toxic chemicals to be applied to their furniture on thirty-six hours' notice is impolite at best, abuse of authority at worst. Both Hanna and I realize it's within the landlord's right (and probably advisable) to do this thing, but we're not happy about the chemical bit, about the potential short-and-long-term effects for us and the cats, and the fact we have absolutely no say in the matter of where, when, and how. 

shadows on the living room ceiling,
and Ianto our that-plants-that's-like-a -philodendron-but-not

Even though the landlord is paying for the treatment, we're still going to be about $200.00 out of pocket to deal with the situation -- it would have been more had we not had friends willing and able and instead had to fall back on a pet boarding service. Hanna and I have enough of a financial cushion that this is manageable. Not fun, but manageable. 

For many people, including our colleagues and friends, this would have been a substantial hardship.

Not to mention if said people lost pay due to taking time off work to prep and deal with the aftermath.

Obviously: bedbugs. The landlords probably don't have much choice, in the end, about how to approach dealing with it. And I'm super-glad they're on top of the situation so that we don't get any. Because: bad. But I resent that we were not kept more clearly informed of the developing situation (they inspected for bugs over two weeks ago; we heard nothing post-inspection until the instructions arrived Tuesday night). And I resent the poor and confusing content of (most of) the communication we did receive.

Le sigh. Urban living.

</rant>

Off to try and practice my mindfulness!