I feel like crying.
Starting this blog was supposed to be a form of creative self-expression. And the truth is that what interests me more than any other topic on a long-term basis is sex and relationships – all kinds of relationships, whether day- or life-time long. A fundamental part of this idea was not only expression but of sharing: letting others glimpse the workings of a real live woman’s psyche; a real live woman who loves sex and isn’t ashamed to admit it.
But Lena’s article hit like a blast of cold water – and not the pleasant kind on a hot day. More like ice-cold spray on an already uncomfortable day. Because this idea has come up before, and in a way I’ve pushed it out of my mind, trying to deny the fact that talking about sex is still not OK and could jeopardize things in my life.
Once a sex story of any kind is posted online, there’s no taking it back. For that matter, anything that’s texted or emailed or Facebooked or tweeted or anything, is basically available for eternity. It’s very difficult for normal people to actually manipulate internet content – rumor has it the G8 does, and good luck trying to find out anything personal about any of the members of the New York Rangers (I don’t know who that coach pays to do his magic, but cyberstalking a Ranger boy is impossible – not that I would know – my friend has a thing for hockey boys). The point is, once online content is out there, it’s there forever.
Lena Chen wrote about sex, too, and what she said was sobering to the point of depressing. The fact is, there really are mean people out there and vicious judgment when it comes to the realm of sex and sexuality, and there can be very real consequences for those who choose to go out on a limb and actually talk about it. They are resented and sometimes put in danger: Lena, for example, had people post the phone numbers of her loved ones. I don’t know the details but it seems as though that would be something along the lines of to say, “Here, harass the slut’s mom. She deserves it.”
But she doesn’t deserve it – no one does. No one ever deserves that kind of treatment, no matter what they’re writing about. And it was a tough road that she was forced to walk, mostly because she was a lightning rod.
I’m not sure I want to be a lightning rod. As a culture and as individuals we place a truly extraordinary amalgam of prejudices, desires, shame, and rage around sex and sexuality. Talking about it draws attention and elicits the reactions of people’s best and worst sides. It shook me up reading about someone that was so viciously attacked for speaking her truth, which didn’t even seem to be all that explosive.
I want to do what I love and be who I am, and at the same time I don’t relish the idea of being persecuted. There was a part of me that read her article and thought, “I should give up now. I can’t have what I want, which is both to write about sex and dating and receive recognition and serve humanity.” What scares me more than the predictable consequences are the unforeseen ones: the jobs I won’t get; the people who won’t talk to me; the shows that won’t have me on; the way I will be written about and perceived in the media. What if I do this and I’m never again taken seriously? What if this is the end of my current career? (I work in a field in which being a sexy writer would be frowned upon to say the least). I could be shooting myself in the foot by doing this, part of me thinks. I should just stop right now.
Then there is the other part of me that says, “Screw it.” I’m in it for the long haul, so who cares if I’m rejected by some, or judged by others? I’m old enough by now to know that bringing the message of the positive and transformative power of sex is part of my life’s purpose. It’s time for people – and especially women – to take responsibility for their own sexuality and learn how to wield it. It thrills me to be a part of my own and other people’s process of becoming familiar with it, intimate with it, such that it becomes ours, a force that can serve and uplift us, like the force of wind or electricity or love. Sex is important. Sexuality is important. It’s important to talk about it and think about it and revolutionize it and bring it back to its essence, which is the very basic fire that burns within us and lights us up, makes us hot and ready and powerful and real.
Still, I will go to bed tonight wondering: how much of sharing that, expressing that, is worth facing the demons?