The L-Word 2/25/10

The posters and e-mails advertised “an informal, safe, inclusive and fun conversation about the importance of pleasure in the context of sexual intimacy,” and naturally, I thought, “I am all about some sex conversatin’ — let’s do it!” The workshop on “Mastering the Art of Sexual Conversation” on Feb. 19 was not, however, what it was advertised to be. I think Jyoti wanted it to be the feel-good, open conversation about healthy intimacy she described in her fliers, but Oliver Barkley, one of the hosts and a self-described professional sex educator, wanted to talk about sexual assault. RIP, my conversation boner.

Don’t think that I take sexual assault lightly — it’s an important topic, especially on a college campus. Just like the continued presence of STDs and accidental pregnancies on our campus suggests we still need reminders to have safer sex, so does the occurrence of sexual assault on our campus suggest that all of us aren’t up to speed on when it’s okay to get physical with somebody. I’ve seen three of the sexual assault posters in the bathrooms changed from “Sexual assault is never the survivor’s fault” to “Sexual assault is sometimes the survivor’s fault,” which says to me we either have a few individuals with a sick sense of humor running around, or that some of us are still grossly unclear on the meaning of the word “assault.”  We undoubtedly need to continue stressing communication and compassion as much as condoms in the bedroom, but devoting Friday night’s discussion to that was a lost opportunity to do something different. When do we as students ever get to discuss positive sexual encounters?

Whenever an older adult talks to me about sex in any sort of formal capacity, I leave feeling like a chastised child: “If you insist on getting hot and heavy with your peers, at the very least use a condom, and for goodness’ sake don’t let me catch you having drunken sex of questionable consent with a stranger. You should know better than that.” The message coming at our age group (18-20-somethings, sorry older readers) from all sides is that it’s quite unfortunate we’re allowed to copulate because we’re really not ready to. I won’t say we are or we aren’t — I think it varies on an individual basis — but the fact is that we’re all attractive, talented and full of raging hormones. There’s going to be some serious sexing going on, and while I appreciate the efforts of our elders to protect us from the potentially dire consequences of our awkward fumblings in the dark, I would also appreciate it if the criticism we have to listen to were a little more constructive. More talks à la “I ♥ Female Orgasm” and fewer like “STDs: A Discourse on Discharge.” Sex education is invaluable — I just wish it didn’t sound like thinly veiled attempts to get us to stop doing it.

I think asking older adults to stop treating us like children with explosives between our legs is only half the issue. To a certain extent, we have to stop acting like children first. It still boggles my mind that as confident, mature individuals who can give a solid thesis defense or organize Haiti relief efforts or jumpstart sustainability at our college, some of us still can’t make eye contact with past hook-ups in the dining hall, or can’t stop measuring sexual prowess by the number of partners we’ve had. I think if we were expected to make a little more meaning out of our sex lives, to be more responsible with our sensitive psyches, we’d rise to the occasion, but I also think the ball is in our court on this one — we need to make the first move. Having a consensual pants party is a right, just like drinking is a right if you’re over 21, but they should both have the same motto: party responsibly.