“Girls Should Stop Drinking to Stop Rape” = Still Shitty Advice

I’ve got a new column in the RedEye today about why the whole “girls shouldn’t drink if they want to not get raped” is still shitty advice. We need better advice guys!

“We blame the woman and her drinking partially to make ourselves feel like that couldn’t happen to us. But these young women aren’t that different from you and me. They just have less luck. I’m not saying we all shouldn’t drink less. (No one ever needs to do a Malort shot ever again.) But drinking less will not solve our rape issue. Only when we address why young men are raping can we move on…’

Read more at http://www.redeyechicago.com/news/ct-red-1028-fritzp4-20131027,0,3532844.story#kurIuCEWc7gwv4KQ.99


How a 28 year old grad student picks out a Halloween costume…

Internal stream of conscience:

[scene: Goodwill in quasi small liberal university Midwestern town; a feministy 28 year old grad student is rummaging through rows of ugly vests]

I really want to finally be Annie Hall this year. I’ve always wanted to be Annie Hall. The honesty in that movie in just brilliant. Although now that I think about it, Annie Hall really is the first archetype of the manic pixie girl. Do I really want to embody that shit for the night? I mean she is basically a 90s version of Zoey Dechannel and that girl really gets under my skin. And these vests are $5! I mean $5! That is a six-pack of PBR tall boys. Maybe I could be the ermahgerd girl from that one meme. I think I have some goosebumps books at home. But I would have to get a pig. I can’t be ermahgerd girl without pig tails. This pixie cut is killing me. But a wig is like what, $15?! That is like a 24 pack of PBR. Okay skip the wig. Beer is definitely more important. Dude I’ve got to get out of this goodwill. I think I’ve been talking outloud for the past 5 minutes.

[scene: typical grad student home filled with cheap furniture and Warhol posters with a woman surfing the internet with an increasingly worried expression on her face.]

What should I google? Lazy costumes? Cheap costumes? Cheap costumes women with a pixie cut can pull off? Dude I’m not going to be Miley Cyrus! I would really love to be Tina Fey or Amy Poehler. Maybe I could be Leslie from Parks and Rec! God dammit I would still need a wig. Wait there is Amy Poehler dressed up as Rosie the Riveter. Rosie the Riveter! That is brilliant. But is that too cliché. I mean the feminist being Rosie the Riveter. That is kind of boring. Plus I don’t want to buy a new denim shirt and mine is definitely the long hipster version. Hold the freaking phone! What if I was a hipster Rosie the Riveter. I have some hipster-esque glasses from that Mad Men party a few years ago. I could wear those and carry around PBR. A cheap costume that requires me to drink PBR all night! SOLD!

*note that nowhere in this thought process does “is that sexy” come into play. Thankfully something happens in between 18 and 28 where showing 60% of your breasts stops being an essential accessory to any Halloween costume. #thanktheheavens

WTF: Why is female masturbation (pleasure) so flipping shocking to people

CW recently cut a brief female masturbation scene in their new period show “Reign” and instead cut right to the part where the King of France decided to “bed” the maiden. Just to be clear, they cut the “graphic and offensive” masturbation scene in favor of what today we call statutory rape. So rape= okee dokey for TV. Self female pleasure = not so much.

I’ve got to say this make me royally pissed. I’m annoyed that we are at this place is society where women are constantly shown as sex objects but are not allowed to enjoy sexuality. I’m sick of sex being shown as something done to women instead of something enjoyed. No wonder our young men and women have so many fucked up ideals on sex.

And why are Americans so flipping freaked out by female pleasure?! Well I’ve got lots of thoughts on this but I think Tracy Clark-Flory says it best:

“Female masturbation forces us to acknowledge that women are sexual creatures, and that can be deeply disturbing for some. After all, we’re supposed to be the gatekeepers holding humanity together — and if we’re not at our post, then who is?”

Why I stopped counting my number

I was pumped to have a new Thought Catalog article out yesterday on the “Top 5 reasons you should stop counting your number of sexual partners.” It was a little piece I’d been mulling on for a year. Lovely to see those things actually come to fruition. But the whole thing started out as my personal experience of why I chose to stop counting my number. In the end I cut that out since nobody wants to hear my sad sack stories of dry humping but I decided to include my personal “giving up the number” story here. Enjoy and don’t judge too harshly!

#personalstory: Why I stopped counting my number

Whenever I meet a new group of girls the “number” conversation inevitably comes up. Usually it happens some Thursday after work, a few martinis in. “So what’s yo-oar number?” they ask, eyebrows raised in anticipation. Always my mind does this mental calculation of trying to add together a lifetime of sexual experiences into a quantifiable number and then rectify that sum with whatever social construct I am currently in. I always feel like it is like this weird game people play to see if my number will fit in with their preconceived notion of who I am.

Yet I always felt safe as long as I could count my sexual partners on two hands. For some reason, I have always had this fear of reaching double digits. On the surface as a feminist I understand why this was an irrational fear. Nine is not so different from ten. A number will not define who you are as a human being. But as a flawed individual and an occasionally silly girl, double digits seemed like risky territory; the stuff terrible slut-shaming movies are made out of.

So as my second hand began to fill up with sex partners, I began to try to disqualify previous sexual soirées. Did it really count if he didn’t come? What if I didn’t come?

And then one day as I was pondering sex as I do too often these days, I realized how insanely ridiculous it was that I was equally weighing all my sex partners.

I could get into specifics here but I really don’t think I have to. For the most part we all have sexual experiences that range on the continuum of “paradigm shifting, what did the world look like before your dick/vulva” sex to “good god, I would rather dry hump chair arm than ever look at you again” sex. They don’t merit the same weight in our life story so why would they get the same weight when we count.

Besides a number doesn’t say anything about my sexual maturity, my sexual satisfaction, or my sexual health. Does it matter if I rank on the Charlotte or the Samantha side of things? I’ll always be a slut to one person and a prude to another.

Sometime last year, I just decided to stop counting. I decided that I would stop trying to quantify my experience and instead try to learn from each experience, learned what I liked, what I didn’t, and most importantly what I really wanted.

Now when that age-old question of “how many” comes up, I like to still a line from my brilliantly naughty and impossibly eloquent friend Jorge how told me: “If you are still counting your number, you should stop counting and start having more sex.”

Why Women Slut Shame Miley Cyrus

Miley Cyrus is the twerk and subsequent slut shame felt round the world. Her VMA twerking drama will not die down no matter how sick we all are of analyzing the phallic nature of that fucking foam finger. And although I get that Miley’s been kind of an entertaining freak show lately, it is frankly crazy to me how many people give two shits about her current slutitude level. Why didn’t we just write off her twerk up as another bad VMA performance, like a more racist Brittany Spears circa 2007?

South Park knew Miley was going to be the next sacrificial slut back in 2008!

Instead people, and particularly women, continue to weigh in with their opinions about Miley and her twerkiness. The judgement-o-rama continued when Sinead O’Connor wrote an open letter (and then a second, third, fourth and FIFTH open letter) to Miley, after Miley said Sinead was an inspiration for the “Wrecking Ball” music video. Sinead’s letter was not a pretty one, nor was the Twitter fight post-letter particularly graceful for either of the artists. Sinead claimed she was acting as a “mother figure” when she told Miley that she was being pimped out by the music industry. If I had a quarter for every time my mom called me a prostitute…

Whether or not Sinead truly thought she was acting in Miley’s “best interest,” it is not her job, nor mine, nor the media, to decide what is sexually-appropriate for Miley Cyrus and what is not.

Look I get the need to gawk at a twerking car wreck. As human beings it is our God-given freedom to judge Miley’s performance, to say things like: “That was the least sexy performance I’ve witnessed since Jim Levenstein’s strip tease in American Pie” or to think “Please stop licking things or at least make sure your tetanus shot is up-to-date.”

It is not okay for to go from “your performance was horrendous” to “you are a horrendous slut,” which is essentially what Sinead and the media and most of America did. We went from hating an action to condemning a woman.

But why did we, particularly as the women of this free liberated world, do such a silly and un-feminist thing like slut shame a 20-year old woman?

I think we slut shame Miley to prove that we aren’t the whores. We make Miley the slut, make her smuttiness deplorable and thus create that whorey “other” we can point to as “everything that is wrong with America.”

Then, all us liberated women of the world can be the acceptably sexual ladies on the street and proper freaks in the bed, that we so want to be.

None of which is to say that Miley deserves our praise, or that her twerking was good. We should definitely be talking about her appropriation of black culture as well as why nude is not a flattering color on her. But as for her sexuality, Miley appears to be like a lot of 20 year old women: visibly awkward with her own scantily clad body and unsure of how to express her sexiness in a society filled with mixed messages for young women. Sound familiar to any other women out there?

5 Things Sexier than doing stats homework on a Saturday night

Here are five things that are sexier than staying in on a Saturday night to do Stats homework….

1) This scene from Take This Waltz

2) This music video by Bastille. (Or this one…or this one…or anything those glorious men do.)

3) This photo of JGL along with the fact that he is brilliant. 

4) This tumblr…oh gawd, this tumblr…. Men with Chest Hair

5) This from Anais Nin

“I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me,who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent,who has the courage to treat me like a woman.”

Oh how I wish that Playboy Hoax was real….

I’ve got a new column today in the RedEye about how the porn guys really need to get on board with this whole consent thing. If you want to be a rebel and a revolutionary it’s time to change the way we talk about sex. Cum shots and threesomes are easy but what’s hard is talking about what makes good sex good. And the first step to that is consent. Nothing effin sexier than consent!

When we don’t make talking about sex a requirement before actually having sex, we create a world filled with unnecessary and dangerous rapey confusion. The fear of talking about consent also takes the joy out of knowing your partner is having a bumping and grinding good time, which is one of the best parts of sex.

Read more below or at http://www.redeyechicago.com/news/ct-red-1007-fritz-20131006,0,7535084.story#EU15BWKb1jxwt0TT.99

Time to Talk about Consent, Baby

I was super stoked when I read that this year Playboy was forgoing its traditional top 10 party school list, instead promoting its Top 10 Party Commandments: an ultimate guide to a consensual good time. It seemed so incredibly relevant, desperately needed and yes insanely SEXY of Playboy to take on the topic of consent and sex in colleges.

Some of my favorite commandments included goodies like “Thou shalt use thy mouth: consent is verbal” and “Thou shalt not take advantage of sloshed people.” The list even included an interview with Hef who stated, “The anti-rape and consent movement bubbling up in America is important and I support it. It’s good for women. It’s good for men. It’s good for sex.”

I was actually pretty shocked and disappointed when I found out last week that the commandment list and the interview was actually a brilliantly executed hoax by a college feminist group and not a product of Playboy.  Honestly I was surprised because it didn’t seem that crazy that Playboy, a brand that has been trying to revamp itself as current, classy and even female-friendly, would dedicate an entire edition to having fun consensual sex.

In fact it seemed like just the kind of thing the brand would need to do to win the next generation of young adults. We are a generation who can get any nudey pic we want for free with a quick 3-seconds Google search. We are in no need of more pixilated sex. What we don’t have and what I think we are desperately craving is some honest conversations about sex and what sex means in our lives.

I’ve recently had some seriously sad conversations with some young men who are so confused about what consent means that they are afraid they might “accidentally rape” someone. They were unsure about how drunk was too drunk and how to gain consent without it being “awkward.”

We are living in a society where we have so blurred the lines between sex and rape that young men are afraid of accidently raping a woman. When we don’t make talking about sex a requirement to actually having sex, we create a world filled with unnecessary and dangerous rapey confusion. The fear of talking about consent also takes the joy out of knowing your partner is having a bumping and grinding good time, which, let’s be honest, is one of the best parts of sex.

A medium like Playboy would have been the perfect place to start this important conversation about how sexy consent can be. Unfortunately, Playboy missed this opportunity to be part of a new sexual revolution, a sexual revolution of hott hott consent and sexy honest dirty talk. The magazine published their annual party school list, which was pretty basic and boring.

But what this hoax does make clear that the young people of America are ready and desperate to talk about consensual sex. We’ve been raised with porn at our fingertips. There is very little that is visually shocking, new or revolutionary to us. We’ve seen more close-ups, bleached butt holes and cum shots than any healthy 20-something should ever be expected to see. What is going to be the revolution for our generation is not explicit sex, not the nitty gritty T and A, not reversed cow girl, but a conversation about sex, about how to make sex better and about how to have sex with consent and without fear.