Yes

Hello Kitty Breast Implants

I can't imagine that these are safe: perhaps they're not truly implants. They look more like soap bars. Sporting these seem more like an act of devotion than a Hello Kitty tattoo.

Image from Hello Kitty Hello.

"Does Virginity Matter Anymore?"

Posting a piece that features, internet friend, Hugo Schwyzer.


Does Virginity Matter Anymore? - The Point - May 2013

From the post: 

Published on May 7, 2013

Have we passed the point in time when virginity was important? In older times, feminine virginity was valued as more of a commodity in trading. The notion objectified women, and actually created a sexist and misogynistic climate in which women equated virginity to their value. So, how does placing high value on virginity measure up today? Is there no reason for the emphasis to exist any more? And can the blame for the overvalue of virginity not only be placed on "commodity" value, but also for men who fear any sort of "competition?"

And what does "virginity value" mean in today's culture? Does it create "slut shaming?" While seemingly innocent and rooted in tradition, honor, etc., does weighting virginity with so much social interest and attention help set a tone for a culture to disparage and degrade female sexuality? Not to mention that women also get criticized for being prudes?

Is there ANY way women can win this predicament as it stands?

These questions and more in this installment of The Point!
Host: Ana Kasparian
Panel:
Desi Doyen (Co-host -Green News Report)
Hugo Schwyzer (Writer, History and Gender Studies Professor, Pasadena City College)
Dave Rubin (Host -Rubin Report)

 

Why Do Women Always Have to Be The Condom Police, Anyway? by Emily

Although I'm not a fan of the word "dick" or casual sex, it's fully possible for me to see the importance of this article and hopefully a following discussion from its readers. Full article below. Posted on XO Jane.

Why Do Women Always Have to Be The Condom Police, Anyway?

Never did it occur to wonder why it was that I was so often the sole person responsible for insisting on safe sex, why I was positioned repeatedly as the condom police, posed at the entrance to my vagina with a whistle and a handheld stop sign.

Emily

 

Feb 14, 2013 at 12:00pm | 

I brought these from home.

I've been having sex since I was 13 years old.

When I reminisce on my 16-year history of sweaty, tangled limbs, I don't always see condoms.

I took the same classes everyone else did in high school. I technically had the right information. But perhaps because my boundaries were stampeded over by a group of rapist fuckheads when I was so young, I was not at all emotionally equipped to set and enforce them surrounding condom use.

When I was around 15, I had a horrible boyfriend who would IM with his ex-girlfriend for hours while I hung around in his room reading "Transmetropolitan" or whatever nerd shit I could find on the floor until he got bored and decided to put his dick in me. He was good-looking, obviously. We didn't use condoms.

One day, he told me that he had been to the doctor and been diagnosed with a "urinary tract infection" and here, the doctor had said I should probably take these pills just in case. I felt fine, I told him, so I don't need to take any pills. He insisted. I demurred. A few days later he broke down and told me that his "urinary tract infection" was chlamydia and I really needed to see the doctor. Chlamydia in women often has no symptoms -- I felt fine, but I tested positive for the infection at the free clinic I went to with my girlfriend. The doctor there prescribed a course of antibiotics, which luckily is all it takes to treat chlamydia. I didn't even break up with the guy.

When I was in college, I had a couple of dates with a well-off older man who really hated condoms, turning every encounter into a tug-of-war over the issue of safe sex. He would try to push his naked penis inside me, I would squirm away and say "No," he would bust out the classic "But I can't FEEL it with a condom on" and I would eventually relent.

This wasn't a particularly unusual situation. I only remember it so clearly because once, angry after my repeated refusals, he blurted, “Don’t you want to have my baby?” in a tone of voice that suggested I was nothing short of stuck-up if I didn’t. (I didn't, except for the fleeting thought that letting a rich guy get you pregnant is in some circles a form of financial planning.)

Like I said though, this wasn't unusual. I can count on one hand the number of men I've been with who even volunteered to put on a condom. Most at least attempted to enter me without one, and while I usually managed to say "No," or "We should get a condom," they'd respond with "Shhhh," or "Just for a minute," or worse, wordlessly carry on like I'd never said anything.

And a lot of the time, I would just let it happen. I could manage to get the words out, but not to enforce them, like the parent who threatens to send you to bed without dinner but never does. No one ever listened to me.

I've been lucky to have never had an unwanted pregnancy and to avoid most of the STIs I laid awake at night worrying about, but I have had abnormal pap smears due to HPV, the virus that will lead to cervical cancer deaths for 4,000 women this year. I found it easier to let a dude potentially kill me with his dick than fucking speak up and insist on what I wanted.

I have always blamed myself for this -- for my poor decisions, my lack of agency. I have been ashamed of my spotty record of sexual safety, so unlike those I see represented in most women's media, where everyone seems to be a perfect paragon of sexual health and express abject horror at the idea of unsafe sex.

I have wondered why I couldn't just get it together around condom use, what was wrong with me that I kept screwing up so badly again and again. Never did it occur to wonder why it was that I was so often the sole person responsible for insisting on safe sex, why I was positioned repeatedly as the condom police, posed at the entrance to my vagina with a whistle and a handheld stop sign.

It's not as if only my health was at risk, after all. Even in the most casual of casual sex situations -- sex clubs, one-night stands -- men would try to cajole or plead or just play dumb to get their way. Often they had condoms that they wouldn't pull out until after I stopped them attempting to enter me without one. They all seemed to see it as my job to insist on safe sex; their default was to have unprotected sex with me if they could get away with it.

I got an email recently from a favorite reader of mine (she dressed up as me for Halloween), letting me know that she'd had a "bad experience" no actually a "date rape" no actually just a "rape" recently and she'd written about it and wondered if I would take a look. What happened was that she was having sex with a man and midway through he removed the condom. When she noticed, he told her it was "no big deal."

One part of what she wrote, for Girls Leadership Program Boston_GLOW, stuck out to me in particular. She says that she emailed a friend about the experience, who wrote her the following:

“I had a disturbing revelation the other day when I realized that [current partner] is the first guy I've slept with who is no nonsense, no bullshit about condom use. For whatever reason, there are a number of men who think they have permission not to use condoms, and it always ends up on you and me and some teenage girl somewhere who just wants to finish high school without a baby to insist on condom usage, and that is simply absurd. And until now, I thought that was normal. And it's not. It shouldn't be."

This isn't every man. Despite my bad experiences, I have also been with wonderful, respectful men who treated condoms as the price of admission, who brought and used them without having to be asked, who never acted as if my health and safety was less important than their sexual pleasure.

And goddamn if it wasn't fucking relaxing, to know that I didn't have to fight and enforce my way through our encounters. Goddamn if I didn't feel safe knowing that my boundaries would be respected just as much when their dicks were hard as when they weren't.

It seems obvious now, and it's probably another symptom of our fucked-up culture that it never occured to me before, but DUH: That's the way sex should always feel.

After Being Failed by My College's Administration, I Posted My Rapist's Name and Photo on the Internet by Tucker Reed

I imagine this happens at many academic institutions, not just USC. Even so, it hurts to know that the university at which I earned my master's degree, is capable of such willful negligence.

Tucker Reed's full article in XO Jane.

After Being Failed by My College's Administration, I Posted My Rapist's Name and Photo on the Internet

It was suggested to me that I didn't have to wait for others to agree with me that what had happened to me was wrong -- that I could do something about it myself, if I really wanted.|

Tucker Reed

Apr 25, 2013 at 12:00pm

"What would you like to see happen as a result of this process?" I was asked this question by friends and family in late October of 2012. Then in November by two officers from the LAPD. Later, by a detective. And three more times by the university staff members assigned to adjudicate my report of sexual assault –– most recently, on April 2.

This question has haunted me, as I infer it haunts other rape survivors. I have never been able to answer it. Until now.

Invited to write about my experience as a rape victim who is attempting to "seek justice," it occurred to me finally: I just want to stop the rape. That's what I want.
---
My rape and the ensuing process was fairly typical. I trusted a man I was getting to know not to rape me. Then, once raped, I struggled to re-interpret myself as not-raped, because the pain and horror of accepting I had been raped was too much for me to bear. Typical.

Where my story isn't as typical begins about one month ago. After my university failed to take immediate action against the student who raped me (despite having been provided with several audio recordings in which my rapist confessed to raping me) and after I became so socially ostracized that I contemplated suicide, it was suggested to me that I did not have to wait for the world to decide whether it would advocate for me or not.

I could self-advocate. I could post my name and photograph and his name and photograph to the Internet.
And so I did.

Two months ago, I wrote a Tumblr post in which I revealed my name and the name of my rapist and included several photographs, including one of us together. I wrote, "I’m not going to hide behind anonymity. I am a part of this society."

This atypical decision has recently garnered me both mainstream media attention and a defamation suit filed by my rapist.
- - -
The story of my rape is full of those "How-could-you-be-so-stupid?" moments that enable outsiders –– often police, district attorneys and academic staff –– to dismiss a victim's claims. As if a woman's "stupidity" can magically transmute rape into not-rape. As if naïveté is a rapeable offense.

On December 3, 2010, my boyfriend and I attended a holiday party hosted by fellow students at the University of Southern California. We had just begun dating two weeks prior. I –– at 21 years old –– was a virgin because I believed that the intimacy of intercourse was an emotional and spiritual act that should not be casually shared.

At a friend's pre-party party, our host generously doled out hard liquor; my date consumed about 10 shots in the span of an hour. He drank even more at the theatre party that was the main event. When he groped me embarrassingly on the dance floor, I told him I wanted to leave.

We walked together back to the complex where we both rented apartments. He was so drunk, I was worried about him and I now believe he played upon those worries. I offered to feed him a little so he could take some aspirin for what was surely going to be one hell of a hangover.

My roommates were out. He and I ended up making out on my couch. When he started taking off my clothes, I moved the make-out session to my bedroom in case my roommates came home.

My freshman dorm.

Eventually naked, in my bed, my date told me he wanted to have sex. I told him repeatedly that I did not want to. That I wanted it to be special. That I wasn't ready. That having sex so soon would ruin our relationship. But it happened anyway.

Itold him he was hurting me and I tried to pull away. He pulled me closer. In the end, after he was done, I interpreted it as a "misunderstanding" –– surely he'd just been too drunk to listen. Surely "nice guys" –– average, nerdy guys from Ohio –– don't rape women they know.

It took me a year to talk openly about my experience. I told my best friend.
"He raped you," my friend said, putting the word on it. "You said no, he didn't listen. That's rape."

I started crying and couldn't stop. It was only then I finally allowed myself to realize I had indeed been raped.

The nightmare was –– I had continued to see my rapist. He'd told me he was in love with me and wanted to marry me. And the part of me that wanted sex to be a meaningful experience had "repurposed" my rape into an act of love. It's amazing what a person can rationalize.

I went to a counselor at my university's health center, thinking someone could tell me what to do. I was told I could see a graduate student studying to be a therapist for free, but it would be filmed for educational purposes. I never called back.

Instead, I decided to confront my boyfriend. He claimed he couldn't remember anything about the night, but then said to me:

What did you expect? A bed covered in rose petals? Nobody gets that. I didn't get that. I wanted to fuck, I needed to fuck, so I fucked. And, whatever, I guess I'm just the asshole who raped you.

My grades began to slip. My health declined –– I gained and lost weight, I stopped having periods, my hair started falling out, I developed a sleeping disorder. I pulled away from family and friends. I went on medication for depression and anxiety.

It took me another 10 months to report my experience to the proper authorities. In October 2012, my friend made a passing comment that I should have recorded the conversation I'd had with my rapist where he'd confessed to the rape. In California, secret recorded confessions are legal, admissible evidence when they are used to prove that someone committed a violent felony. Rape –– it should be said –– is a violent felony.

So I arranged to make a recording. And my ex-boyfriend obligingly confessed multiple times to forcing me to have sex with him. I provided these recordings to the police in November 2012. I provided them to my university in December 2012.

For months, my university has had audio recordings in which my rapist states that he (1) does not remember anything about the night in question, and (2) is so very sorry that he forced me to have sex with him.

In testimony provided by my ex-boyfriend in his defense, however, he now (conveniently, remarkably) remembers all sorts of details about the night in question and specifically remembers numerous particulars that he asserts are evidence of consent. He further maintains that I tricked him into providing false confessions, insisting that he confessed to a crime he did not commit only because he knew I would not leave him alone until he had done so. I coerced him, you see –– not he me.
 - - -
In February of this year, I was hospitalized because I was having strong suicidal ideations. I couldn't live with the burden of being invisible and set apart for even one more day. It was suggested to me that I didn't have to wait for others to agree with me that what had happened to me was wrong -- that I could do something about it myself, if I really wanted.

I was told by two attorneys -- I could post my rapist's name to the Internet, if I felt it was necessary to my emotional health. And so I did.

I posted both his and mine. It was my emphatic rejection of both invisibility and shame. Women from all over responded –– thanking me, telling me that I had given them the courage to say the word "rape" and speak the name of their rapists. And for their sisterhood, I am profoundly grateful, because it helped make me feel visible and human again.

Recently, I was also counter-sued by my rapist for libel. And I will meet him in court with his confessions. Yes, I was "stupid" to trust him not to rape, to be confused that he had raped me, and to try to transform that violence into something human. But my stupidity does not transmute his crime. The rape was still a rape. And I will do all I can to make him reckon for it.
- - -
When asked for the third time by USC staff members what I wanted to see as a result of their adjudication process, I said I wanted the university to fulfill the promise made in its written policy of expelling a student who commits rape while attending the university.

The staff member said to me: "That is not what we exist to do. This is not a punitive process. This is a rehabilitative process. This is an educative process."

I beg to disagree. If an academic institution fails to remove a rapist from its student body, the school is not only contributing to the victimization of the victim by further proving to the victim that she (or he) is indeed invisible –– but it is additionally displaying wanton disregard for the safety of any and all its other students.

Carly Mee is one of 37 students at Occidental College in Los Angeles, California who have made headlines because of their class action lawsuit filed against their university for violating Title IX. Mee's rapist was expelled by Occidental, but allowed to return after he appealed the decision. He then went on to rape at least three more women.

The Occidental suit is one of a host of class actions that have been filed across the country in the past few years; students at Amherst, Yale and the University of North Carolina have also sued their schools for failing to abide by Title IX and failing to adequately protect student victims of sexual misconduct.

The admin building at USC

According to documentary filmmaker Suzanne Richiardone –– who is currently working with Academy Award-winning Maha Productions to expose the harsh realities faced by sexual assault victims –– women at institutions across the country have begun "an underground movement" to demand that their schools do more to protect female students.

The anti-rape coalition I co-founded this semester with a fellow victim at the University of Southern California is now taking steps to file a class action similar to Occidental's for the many women in our group who were failed by USC's administration.
- - -
My rapist will be receiving his diploma in two weeks. Despite the Obama Administration's pleas for swift adjudications of sexual misconduct on college campuses receiving federal aid, as outlined in its April 2011 "Dear Colleague" letter, and despite the rights extended to female college students by Title IX, my rapist will soon be a proud alum of the University of Southern California.

The defamation suit my rapist has filed against me claims "assumption of risk" as part of his defense. I can state unequivocally that I never assumed that, by attending the University of Southern California, I was risking becoming a rape victim.

By letting my boyfriend drink a glass of water and take some aspirin after a party, I never assumed I had let a rapist into my apartment. How could I have been expected to assume this? Because I am a woman? Is that what it boils down to? Because I possess a vagina, I must understand that my mere existence evinces a daily risk of victimization and theft of personhood?

Fuck that noise. It's time to stand up, step forward, and stop the rape.

Hang in There

If you look closely you can see that the hook is not rope and it is not around the neck; it comes from the body's back. The cube around the head emphasizes the head and makes it look as though it is on display. Perhaps speaking to society's insistence that we are to sexualize death. The head is truth but we don't know what is or we don't think to question because we think it's been made easy for us as if we are watching television. The cube also pronounces the head that is hung forward. We think that the person has committed suicide by hanging, however, if this is the case, the person's neck would be upward.

Is the blue meant to illuminate the experience? Add to the creep factor? Reminiscent of the depression of Picasso's blue era?

None of this?

Hang in There by Bernardi Roig

Big Apple

Sexually objectifying or appreciation of line and form? Perhaps the bodies aren't meant to be considered, however, the artist knows we will surely do that. Is that the challenge?

Big Apple by Sam Haskins

SPF

Too..many...thoughts..at once.

It's never clear as to what an artist means to say when they present a piece of art: that's the point. Isn't it? We are meant to think, ponder, enjoy and perhaps feel frustrated.

Black face is offensive but I'm wondering if the artist is pushing a question rather than an idea. Is black face as offensive when painted onto a sexualized female image? If not, why is that so? Is the woman on her stomach the same woman who is sitting upright? It seems so. Does that make it any less offensive? Is it no longer black face if the black resembles paint that runs down the neck?

But does that mean the first image where we are unable to see paint running down her neck is meant to be the offensive image? Or are we meant to question the way we perceive the concept of racism. Is the first image no longer a black face image if we have decided the second image is not black face? Can we then ignore that we do not see paint dragging down the neck of the upright image?

SPF rydye

Stoker: A Review

Stoker is a film written by Wentworth Miller and directed by Park Chan-Wook. The film tells the story of  India Stoker and her devastating family.

India mourns the death of her father, Richard Stoker (played by Dermot Mulroney.) At the funeral her mother, Evelyn Stoker (played by Nicole Kidman) introduces India to her uncle Charlie (played by Matthew Goode.) A fourth major character within the film is the house in which they reside. This may or may not occur to the audience but in retrospect there is a reason as to why the house serves as such an important piece.


Stoker Trailer

It seems that the scene is set in the 1950s; but that is never established. The film smacks us in the face with tension from the get-go. Some of that tension is very much sexual, but for some time, we are unsure as to why.

India comes across as a modern Wednesday Adams: a young girl who is beautifully quirky, and doesn't know it. She is intriguing as much as she is intrigued. Introverted no doubt, and I find that marvelous. She doesn't have a carefree intrigue with the world: a childlike view. She does however, notice everything. She's not so pleased with her environment but it is curious how her personality might have differed before her father died. I don't think we are meant to invest in that idea too much, if at all.

Evelyn is a woman who is very concerned with appearances. Immediately I saw her as a woman who was depressed and lacking identity. She is also resentful and angry, and covers it well (or not so well) with a mask that is very Stepford wife-esque (and yes, she played one in the film Stepford Wives.) She is certainly thrown off kilter with the death of her husband, but you never get the sense that she truly misses him. She is left with a daughter whom she doesn't know what to do with.

Charlie is a devilishly handsome stranger. It is unclear as to why he is staying with them after the funeral had come to an end. India is unclear as well. She had not met him until now. We see life through her eyes, and her confusion is our confusion.

It is debatable as to who is the star of the show. I've teeter-tottered between Goode and Wasikowska. I think it is Wasikowska's character that is meant to be the focus, but my focus was on Goode. I believe I would feel this way even if I wasn't attracted to him.

In fact;  it took me quite a while to realize how attracted to him I was. This may be in part because his character is so cryptic that his persona kept me at bay. He is mysterious but certainly with the promise of impending doom. He has naturally large eyes; he leers and stares at his Stoker family, and speaks lowly and slowly. When he speaks it is as if he is rounding a corner and revealing himself into your vision with an intensity that you did not ask for and you may not welcome.

As pretty as his bright eyes are; I have a thing with eyes. Wide eyes -- which are often utilized when adding definition to a villain -- often frighten me. I still have squeamish memories of the wide eyes of every Disney villain I ever saw as a child.

Even so -- it is difficult to avoid how powerful Charlie's eyes are -- especially being that they add to the strong air of sociopathy. He is a person who immediately strikes as someone with an agenda, and someone who is incapable of empathy. As the film progresses you wonder if he truly has any authentic affinity for either of the women whom he temporarily shares a home with.

For a while it is uncertain as to where to place our emotions. Soon enough we see that the tension does not rest in benign territory. As mentioned earlier the tension is remarkably sexual. This is unsettling for the obvious reason: Charlie is family.

One aspect that drew me to Goode's character was his voice. I felt slightly deflated when I learned via online footage, that it was unauthentic, as he is an English actor. This feeling dissipated within seconds as I saw that not only does he have a handsome voice as an Englishman, but he has developed quite the talent. I am frequently impressed by actors not born in the states, who can create such bold and impressive American accents. Two more examples of this within the film, is the skill of Nicole Kidman and Mia Wasikowska; both born in Australia. Lucky ducks, they are.

In comparison, the American accent is not that keen. I imagine; to imitate an American accent is to produce a nasal effect. The tone and structure of American accents aren't always so impressive.


Stoker Featurette: Staircase Advantage

In most films there is someone whom we are rooting for. In this case it may be India, but there is a question that hovers. Charlie may be the devil but what exactly is inside of India?

India however, does have her defenses up: she has to. At times; watching her is like watching a whimsical fairy or curious girl who is smart beyond her young years. There were moments that were reminiscent of Frances Hodgon  Burnett's book, The Secret Garden. Ultimately, she's a tough cookie.

There are never any comfortable moments in the film. We don't rest; we don't have any moments of, "ah okay, I understand this." This is not a criticism of the film. This is what makes it great.

The film speaks to a larger issue, in my opinion. Death and the sexualization of it. I think many of us are guilty of appreciating this. Many of us accept this, and move on. I wrestle with it, and ultimately move on. I will repeat.

In some films, the sexualization of death is not so obvious. One could argue that the death that occurs within this film is not what attracts us; but speaking for myself, I am attracted to a character that wreaks of it: screams it. Is it so terrible that I'm attracted to the bad guy? Probably.

I've never been attracted to the bad boys in my personal life. Ever. I'm not drawn to loud men on Harleys; the hard-to-gets; unstable jocks; the emotionally unavailable, or aloof personalities that are vacant of substance.

Charlie Stoker is not a tough guy. At least not in the traditional sense. He certainly doesn't look the part. He's got the sinister thing down and that is powerful; but he doesn't have brawn or the sense that he could stand up to someone who does. He picks on those who aren't his own size and he is clever: that is his advantage. He is not courageous as there is no frightening obstacle to overcome or conquer. He has goals but his inner struggle is selfish and ridden with insecurities that he could never cop to. He doesn't have the insight to do so. He is fearless and is so, because sociopathy steams from his pours.

 Although he doesn't harbor the stereotypical version of a bad boy, he is certainly bad. Bad news, ten-fold.

What certainly adds to his intimidation factor is that he is older than our young India. Being that we are meant to be most connected to India as we see things through her eyes; we feel younger than Charlie, because she is younger than Charlie. I am a woman in my early 30s. Matthew Goode is only 2 years older than I, but when watching the film, I felt like a young girl, stretching to be as tall as he, embarrassed that I am not on the same level. Unevenness does not sit well with most people and this is inflicted upon the audience. Charlie is man who is taller, mysterious, and one that promotes conflicting feelings of resistance and relish. He makes India -- the audience -- and myself -- feel dwarfed. It's not a good feeling. Yep, you're probably paging Dr. Freud by now.

The scene I most lavish is what I consider to be the best part of the film. It's interesting to unfold its layers.
 

















"To be friends" is executed with intensity that is strategically sexual. Most people do not propose friendship in a way that is crafted with the intent to make the other feel uncomfortable, yet intrigued.


Stoker Featurette: What Do You Want From Me?

India seems to feel vulnerable but gains her confidence when she assures herself and Charlie, that they are family and nothing more. She needn't be intimidated by his charm, nor drawn to it. She can leave it across the dinner table as he is merely her uncle. There is no obligation and she can thus use that comfort as a defense. She is back to being a creature of aloneness: something she suffers from but enjoys as there is no other way to be. Everything else seems superficial. But perhaps Charlie doesn't fit into that category. Hmm? She tinkers with this idea.

If Charlie wasn't pure evil, I'd have to take him home. Good tea and good talk, would be in order.


Stoker Featurette: Director's Vision

In the above featurette we see that it took a melting pot to create the film. Various cultures, languages and accents, boosted the film into its finished product. It is a film done so well, that I almost wish I was a part of it.

In addition to the camaraderie of the production team and the cast; the director captures amazing angles. Some are confining, and some give space, but never much. There is no distinct feeling of being suffocated, but when you are in it, you are in it. When you are involved in the experience, when you are a participant, you are served up an opportunity to assess your own take on family, fear, sensuality, love, loss, danger and whatever else you find tugging at you. It is in front of us on a platter.

It's a film that is probably deserving of a second watching, in order to get the full taste of it. I'm only on the first bite.

I'm a fan and I will certainly purchase the film when it is made available.

For more information on the film visit the film's microsite, Letters to India.

Porn Star James Deen Speaks at Pasadena Community College

source: shalom life

On February 27th, porn actor, James Deen, gave a talk on pornography at his alma mater, Pasadena City College, in Pasadena, California. The event was organized by gender studies professor, Hugo Schwyzer. Although Schwyzer teaches history courses, I think it's fair to say that his main passion is feminism. One of the classes he teaches is a Humanities course which he has titled, Navigating Pornography. On the day of Deen's talk, Schwyzer posted on this website: 

I teach “Navigating Pornography” because I want to equip students with tools to think critically about a pornified culture. I want them to step into a safe space that is neither sexualized nor prudish, that is neither blithely celebratory of porn nor puritanically condemnatory. I want them to wrestle with a wide variety of texts, images, and persons so that they can better understand the role of porn in on our culture. I want them to become advocates for intelligent conversation. Speakers like James Deen, himself an immensely articulate and thoughtful speaker whom I’ve enjoyed interviewing in the past, bring a valuable perspective to both students and the general community.

Schwyzer is a man I respect highly. A kind person, an intelligent figure in academia, and a great writer who does good work. Whenever I read one of his pieces I am always impressed by his critiques and his even-handed delivery. Whenever I've brought up concerns about pornography he has always responded with grace. Grace is actually a perfect word to describe his way of interaction. 

Schwyzer will tell you that his views on porn have changed over the last several years. When I began following his work in 2004, he held the views of an anti-porn feminist. I did feel deflated when he became more accepting of pornography but he did so without a cemented foot on either side of the argument.

Before I get into the nitty gritty, I think it's important to make mention that PCC made a big hub-bub of Deen's arrival. Absurd. Despite the fact that I push against pornography and pornographic culture, I see no reason why the school created such a fuss. The event was meant to be a public one in which non-students and sources of media were allowed to attend. At the last minute Schwyzer was informed that he had to limit the audience to that of his students and the talk had to take place in his own classroom. Some news reporters and paparazzi were in attendance. 

PCC released a statement which insists that Schwyzer did not jump through the appropriate hoops to hold the event. The school feared controversy and protests which may affect the safety of the students. In the end there were no protests. Schwyzer has had other porn actors and antiporn figures speak in his classroom, without complaint. Schwyzer did point out that the fact that so many women were invested in this talk, proves that it is not just men who are interested in porn, and women too have libidos.

Schwyzer says that there is a lot of shame surrounding porn use. I would say that there is shame and praise. I wouldn't want individuals to experience either. I don't want porn users to feel shamed, but I do want them to have some insight into what they are doing. Porn users and porn stars are not bad people simply because they use or star. 

The NY Daily News quotes Schwyzer as saying, In this country, pornography is held responsible for sex education, and that's unfair, Schwyzer said. No one goes to see ‘Die Hard’ to learn about police work. Similarly, porn should not be held up as being responsible for teaching people about how to behave during sex. 

The point Schwyzer is trying to make is clear, however, he doesn't quite make it. Sex Ed certainly needs to improve and Schwyzer does good in utilizing his skills as an educator to conduct healthy discussions about sexuality. Deen himself made a good point when he said that sex education doesn't go beyond the mechanics of it and the mechanics are meant to describe how children come into the world. This may be appropriate for youths who are witness to this in elementary school, but as children become young adults, there is no open dialogue about what sex can be and not be for people -- what it might mean to have sex for the first time, to discovering one's own sexual orientation, to understanding boundaries of safety.

I feel that Schwyzer's statement misses the mark in that we view police work and sex in very different terms. Within the first quote at the top of this post, Schwyzer acknowledges that we live in a pornified culture. Sex is on our minds more often than police work and it affects in incredibly complex ways. Most people think about sex, daily and often several times throughout the day. We are bashed over the head with images via the media, which depicts women as figures that are only meant to cater to a heterosexual man's desire:this is amplified in pornography.  

Sex is a huge part of many of our lives and because it is so significant, corporations world wide, capitalize on it. We know this. Basic. So, although we shouldn't learn from pornography, so many do. I don't believe in censorship so I am not suggesting we remove the porn from a legal standpoint, but we can cease to utilize it as a tool and as a point of reference.  

Mainstream porn aka straight porn, insists that a woman's sexuality is reserved for men. When a woman screams with pleasure, that scream is meant to inflate the ego of a man who believes that his prowess is so great. This line of thinking travels into our bedrooms. Porn may or may not be at the source, but the idea did come from some form of patriarchy.  

Porn teaches us that a man inflicts something onto a woman rather than exploring an act of sharing. Man gives, woman receives. Man is dominant because he penetrates and woman receives simply because her body envelops. Within porn and within our world outside of it, this is what we are taught to think.

Although, many have applauded Deen's appearance at PCC, there have been some public push back. I knew with all certainty that one particular feminist figure would jump at this immediately. Gail Dines is a sociology professor at Boston's Wheelock College. She is an antiporn feminist, author, speaker and activist, and she is also the founder of the feminist organization, Stop Porn Culture.

Although Dines and I agree on many points, I often do not appreciate her delivery. Via facebook, Dines instructed her followers to; 

Email the president of the college (mwrocka@pasadena.edu) to complain that they are subjecting their students (a captive audience) to the ideas and messages of pornography. Porn is linked to sexual violence so Hugo Schwyzer is creating an unsafe space for women college students at Pasadena College. Ask the president how he is going to make his college safe for women. Do it NOW!!!

Dines' official letter to the president of the school is as follows. 

Dear President,

My name is Dr. Gail Dines and I am a professor of sociology and women's studies at Wheelock College in Boston. As an academic who studies the effects of pornography on young adult sexality, I must express my disappointment at Dr. Hugo Schwyzer's promotion of the porn industry in his class. Over thirty years of empirical studies have linked pornography to an increase in sexual harassment, assault and verbal and physical abuse of women. That a college provides a forum for such predatory speech is irresponsible and shows contempt for well being of female students. Dr. Schwyzer is a well know promoter of porn and is considered a very problematic person in scholarly circles.

Best, 

Promoter? That word doesn't sit right. He doesn't tell others to view porn or not. In his 2011 post, Are You a Controlling Shrew if You Don't Want Your Partner Using Porn, he says, I’m agnostic — really, I am — about pornography. 

Although I am not a student of Schwyzer's (just as Dines is not) and I do not have access to a syllabus, I know that Schwyzer understands that it would be unethical for him to sway his students one way or the other. Schwyzer is very active within the feminist community and very present within feminist internet communities. He is vocal about his views; an excellent confessional writer.  

In his own life, Schwyzer does not use pornography. His students know this, and he spoke openly about it in 2011 when he engaged in a civil debates with Feminist Current podcast host, Meghan Murphy. 

I don’t use pornography as part of my sexual life, and I don’t employ sex workers. Sex work is deeply problematic. At the same time, I’m confronted with the reality that a growing number of young women use pornography, and that there has been a concerted effort to create a genuinely feminist pornography – though the degree to which that’s a viable project remains a subject of contention. I reject porn use personally because it is incompatible with how I want to live my sexual life. I want my sexuality to be radically relational, where my arousal is inextricably linked to intimacy and partnership. I also want my sexuality to be congruent with my feminism, and for me personally, that means rejecting porn. 

Schwyzer went on to say; 

But I work with allies, overwhelmingly female, who are sex workers or advocates for sex workers. Some are the stereotypically privileged few who are outside the norm, but some who claim enthusiasm about sex work are from working-class backgrounds where financial necessity was the driving reason behind why they entered the industry. Nothing could be less feminist than for me to tell them, "No, you don't like what you're doing. Actually, you hate it and you're being exploited." The sine qua non of male feminism is the capacity to hear women's lived experiences. And when it comes to porn (both in terms of production and consumption) and other forms of sex works, women don't speak with one voice. I am committed to being an advocate for sex worker rights, committed to avoiding participating in sex work as a consumer, and committed to listening. 

Schwyzer takes a seemingly fair stance and I am on board with some of it. As an antiporn feminist, I would not take it upon myself to tell an a sex worker that they hate what they do. I imagine that may be the case for some, but I think there are overwhelming numbers of participants who indeed love what they do. Strippers, actors, pinups, escorts and more. My issue is with the whys behind their motivation.  

I have not had conversations with sex workers, and Schwyzer has. Even so, I can speak as a woman who exists within patriarchy. Porn caters to men -- women in porn cater to men. Porn tells us that women can only enjoy sex when they look the way women in porn do (alternative porn, that has become more mainstream, doesn't push the envelope much), make the same noises, respond the same way, and please men in the same way. Porn features women who are always willing, and always wanting more -- women who will affirm anything a man does and says. Women will never say no unless of course no means yes. If a woman says no, she will certainly change her mind, as the man's penis is almighty.  

Porn tells us that anything else is prudish. Many pro-porn feminists refer to themselves as sex positive feminists which leaves the rest of us out. I don't subscribe to the belief that all sex workers were abused in some way, and I think it unfair to suggest that all antiporn feminists adhere to hyper-religious views or are capable of only vanilla sex. 

If I had the chance, I would have attended Deen's talk. I think it is important to listen to both sides and this is what I have always done. I'd be curious to know what it must be like for Deen or any porn actor to have a job that consists of sex sex sex. How does that affect one's world view on a day to day basis? I imagine Deen's talk was informative. There are a few clips swimming around the internet. 

Dines and I differ in that, I feel it is not harmful for PCC's young people to listen to an actual porn star. I know many students were giddy to see Deen but I imagine not all of Schwyzer's students are pro-porn. Deen's talk may provide insight tacks on some weight, reaffirming either side of the argument. I imagine this exploration will (hopefully) be an on-going journey for Schwyzer's students that will not come to a halt after they have completed his course.

I was beyond shocked when Dines stated that Schwyzer is a very problematic person is scholarly circles. Dines has not specified what she meant by this and she did not provide examples. I have a hunch as to what she's speaking of, and if I'm right, I don't agree with Dines at all. I wince at Dines letter but she has every right to voice her view. 

From the images and comments about the event via social media, no doubt James Deen Day, was an enjoyable one for the majority of those who attended. If Schwyzer intends to rope in more porn stars to his classroom, I have no qualms about it. As long as he continues to fairly invite antiporn feminist folks; I think it's great. Although Schwyzer and I have split from our once shared views on porn, we are like-minded in that we are both committed to listening.