Heterosexuality Is Unnatural, no matter what Sex Essentialists say
What follows is a book review from Achille's Heel: The Radical Men's Magazine
The Invention of Heterosexuality by Jonathan Ned Katz
Twelve years ago, Gore Vidal asserted that "there is no such thing as a homosexual or a heterosexual person. There are only homo- or hetero acts." He repeats this hypothesis in an argumentative foreword to Ned Katz's book. But Katz seeks to dig deeper than this and questions the assumptions that lead us to divide people, acts, relationships and feelings into binary opposites. Starting with the first appearance in the United States of the word hetero-sexual, in 1893, he shows how it has moved from its original medical definition to its use in describing "normal", different-sex eroticism.
The original definition is important in the argument that Katz develops. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, attempts were made to identify and name various deviations from the procreative norm. "Hetero-sexuality" described one type of non-procreative perversion involving different-sex desire. Erotic attraction was seen as a healthy sexual instinct when procreation was its aim, but not if it involved only the satisfaction of lustful impulses. It was these drives and impulses that were taken up by Freud, from 1905 onwards, in the development of his theories of sexuality.
It is difficult to imagine a time before knowledge of the powerful concepts and images that Freud put before us. Katz shows how the presumption of a predominantly male, heterosexual norm pervaded Freud's writing, creating an assumption of the biological and historical roots of the hetero/homo divide. In a similar way, Freud displaced the procreative norm and replaced it with the concept of sexual libido and its satisfaction.
In terms of individual development, the choice of sexual object (same- or opposite-sex) was not fixed or restricted, but Freud made it clear that a heterosexual outcome would be both normal and preferred. Homosexuality is seen as "fixated" and "immature" and an undesirable developmental outcome. This impression of an essential, historical and biological truth focussed negative attention on abnormal homosexuality. More importantly, it directed attention away from the heterosexual norm. Katz invites us to check the relative invisibility of discourse on heterosexuality by browsing the indices of relevant seminal texts. As an example, he cites the standard index to Freud's complete works. This contains only one reference to heterosexuality but more than a column of references to homosexuality. Katz goes on to show how heterosexuality grew rapidly from a preferred developmental outcome into a universal, cultural norm. He places Gore Vidal's distinction between persons and acts as post-Kinsey in that Alfred Kinsey's research, reported in "Sexual Behaviour in the Human Male" (1948), described a range of behaviour and practice that did not fit neatly into exclusively homo- or heterocategories.
In the same decade, the words "gay" and "straight" were being used as descriptions of sexual identity, with "straight" meaning "not homosexual". The concept of a gay or lesbian identity and the growth of identity politics have been instrumental in affirming the feelings and lifestyles of those who are glad to be gay. Ned Katz recognises the importance of this movement, but is pessimistic about its potential in the breaking down of the heterosexual norm.
Acceptance of genetically-determined sexual orientation is compared with similar biological "evidence" used to justify the practices of slavery, racism and sexism. Rather than argue on these grounds, he sees a way forward, through a focus on what is held in common and not through an emphasis on what makes us different from each other. His model for this is based on challenges to the dominant male, heterosexual culture posed by liberal, radical and lesbian feminists since the early 1960s. Katz draws together the strands of a feminist de-construction of heterosexuality, from Betty Friedan's dissatisfaction with arbitrary sexual designations, placing limits on women's potential, to Adrienne Rich's explicit criticism, in the early 1980s, of institutionalised heterosexuality.
Katz looks forward to a time when homo- and hetero- distinctions will become redundant. As Lisa Duggan points out in her afterword, this is bound to make some readers uncomfortable, if not downright hostile.
Conservative "essentialists" will perceive an attack against the institutions of marriage and the family. On the other hand, those working for lesbian and gay rights may feel that their position is undermined and that it is better to argue for equality on the basis of gains already made. Katz and Duggan both suggest that an acceptance of "difference" can lead, at best, to a state of tolerance, whereas true equality can only come if we "change the notion that heterosexuality is normal for the vast majority of people, and shift social, cultural and political practices based on that assumption".
Ned Katz's main aim in this book is to focus attention and to encourage debate on the problem of heterosexuality. In this respect, he has produced a valuable resource. "The Invention of Heterosexuality" distils almost fifteen years of discussion, research and writing. It contains a wealth of notes and references that will provide an excellent platform for further study. But, above all, this is an essential read and a fascinating journey through the sexual politics of the 20th century.
Andrew Martin
Copyright © Achilles Heel Collective
Mar 8, 2011
Male Take: When He Can't Get An Erection
No erection? What to say when he can't get it up.
By Jack Murnighan
It happens to the best of men: arousal but no lift... interest but no erection. When a man can't get it up, the experience for him and his partner falls somewhere between awkward and utterly mortifying—I've even heard of men not calling women back because they were so ashamed of their inability to keep things on the up and up.
Because men are so sensitive about it, and because it's about as embarrassing a moment as he can experience, it puts the woman in a really tough spot. Of course you just want to say, "Honey, is there something I can do to help?" But in some cases, that's exactly what he doesn't want to hear. He's thinking, "No, I'm just dying from the pressure here, and the last thing I want you to do is even notice, much less try to help!"
Even worse is if you say, "Is there something wrong?" or "Are you okay?"—because, yes, there obviously is something wrong (you don't have to remind me!) and, no, I'm clearly not OK; I'm flaccid!
So what can a woman say or do when her man can't rev up the engines? Here are a few possibilities (but know that any one of these can backfire, too, depending on the circumstances). But, in order of most likely to go over well, here are five things you can say to help make the best of the situation:
1) Don't worry, honey. It happens to all guys.
Granted, he might wonder how much experience you have (some guys like to pretend it's your first time—I think they're silly), but at least he won't feel like he's the only loser on the planet. Misery sure does love company.
2) We'll just touch for now—I love that.
This way he can feel like he's still giving you a decent experience, and it's possible that gentle, relaxed, not-trying-to-start-anything touching will eventually bring him around. I'd advise steering clear of his penis, though, at least until it starts showing life on its own. If you touch it, he might think you're trying again, and his guilt and feelings of failure can get in the way.
3) You know what? It happens to me sometimes, too.
Guys might not realize that, sometimes, women don't get wet, even though they're aroused. Letting him know that it's a human thing, not just a flaw with his equipment, will help ease his mind.
Yes, this is pretty close to "Is there something I can do to help?" but the difference is in the approach. Asking what you can do implies there's a problem that needs fixing; asking if he wants something allows him to either articulate his needs or ignore your question. Still, this tactic is a bit risky, as he might feel as if you're disappointed with him. Sometimes, however, changing things up a little will put him in the right headspace and back on track. Just be careful when and how you ask.
Note that in all of these cases, the thing you need to make clear is that you're not mad at him, frustrated or mocking him for not being able to get an erection (or for having lost one).
And remember: You shouldn't take his present condition personally. Trust me, a guy can have performance anxiety simply because he likes you a ton and is trying too hard to make you happy! Or: he could have something else on his mind; some odd thing may have triggered his response; he may have had a lot to drink... any number of other things could be happening that have nothing to do with you or whether you're sexy. If it becomes chronic, there may be a more significant issue at work. But an isolated case or two—or jitters during the first few times you're together—is nothing to take as a bad sign. Male Take: How To Tell If A Guy Likes You
So once you have a handle on not taking it personally, help him realize that he shouldn't take it personally, either. He probably thinks his inability to maintain an erection reflects on his whole identity, so make sure he understands that you know it's a fluke, and no big deal.
Finally, keep in mind that men are a lot more complicated than they're given credit for. It might seem as if they're like light switches—easily turned on—but there's a brain involved, and that can be a wildcard. And when a man does have troubles, he really is at his most vulnerable. So careful what you say and do. He's ultra-exposed—in every way imaginable.
By Jack Murnighan
It happens to the best of men: arousal but no lift... interest but no erection. When a man can't get it up, the experience for him and his partner falls somewhere between awkward and utterly mortifying—I've even heard of men not calling women back because they were so ashamed of their inability to keep things on the up and up.
Because men are so sensitive about it, and because it's about as embarrassing a moment as he can experience, it puts the woman in a really tough spot. Of course you just want to say, "Honey, is there something I can do to help?" But in some cases, that's exactly what he doesn't want to hear. He's thinking, "No, I'm just dying from the pressure here, and the last thing I want you to do is even notice, much less try to help!"
Even worse is if you say, "Is there something wrong?" or "Are you okay?"—because, yes, there obviously is something wrong (you don't have to remind me!) and, no, I'm clearly not OK; I'm flaccid!
So what can a woman say or do when her man can't rev up the engines? Here are a few possibilities (but know that any one of these can backfire, too, depending on the circumstances). But, in order of most likely to go over well, here are five things you can say to help make the best of the situation:
1) Don't worry, honey. It happens to all guys.
Granted, he might wonder how much experience you have (some guys like to pretend it's your first time—I think they're silly), but at least he won't feel like he's the only loser on the planet. Misery sure does love company.
2) We'll just touch for now—I love that.
This way he can feel like he's still giving you a decent experience, and it's possible that gentle, relaxed, not-trying-to-start-anything touching will eventually bring him around. I'd advise steering clear of his penis, though, at least until it starts showing life on its own. If you touch it, he might think you're trying again, and his guilt and feelings of failure can get in the way.
3) You know what? It happens to me sometimes, too.
Guys might not realize that, sometimes, women don't get wet, even though they're aroused. Letting him know that it's a human thing, not just a flaw with his equipment, will help ease his mind.
Yes, this is pretty close to "Is there something I can do to help?" but the difference is in the approach. Asking what you can do implies there's a problem that needs fixing; asking if he wants something allows him to either articulate his needs or ignore your question. Still, this tactic is a bit risky, as he might feel as if you're disappointed with him. Sometimes, however, changing things up a little will put him in the right headspace and back on track. Just be careful when and how you ask.
Note that in all of these cases, the thing you need to make clear is that you're not mad at him, frustrated or mocking him for not being able to get an erection (or for having lost one).
And remember: You shouldn't take his present condition personally. Trust me, a guy can have performance anxiety simply because he likes you a ton and is trying too hard to make you happy! Or: he could have something else on his mind; some odd thing may have triggered his response; he may have had a lot to drink... any number of other things could be happening that have nothing to do with you or whether you're sexy. If it becomes chronic, there may be a more significant issue at work. But an isolated case or two—or jitters during the first few times you're together—is nothing to take as a bad sign. Male Take: How To Tell If A Guy Likes You
So once you have a handle on not taking it personally, help him realize that he shouldn't take it personally, either. He probably thinks his inability to maintain an erection reflects on his whole identity, so make sure he understands that you know it's a fluke, and no big deal.
Finally, keep in mind that men are a lot more complicated than they're given credit for. It might seem as if they're like light switches—easily turned on—but there's a brain involved, and that can be a wildcard. And when a man does have troubles, he really is at his most vulnerable. So careful what you say and do. He's ultra-exposed—in every way imaginable.
Feb 19, 2011
Greek studs: a Foucauldian sideways glance at Aristotle's package
Ye of little sex rejoice: for at least some of the ancient Greeks, there wasn't anything less virile than screwing around.
Michel Foucault's History of Sexuality spans a wide variety of topics, examining ancient to contemporary Western discourse on the sexual act. Specifically, it examines the origin of what we know today as "sexuality": a biological, psychological, and historical area of study that has been delineated as somehow above or apart from the rest of human activity. How and why did the canon of "proper behavior" in Western society place not only the sexual act, but constant discussion and definition of the sexual act, at the core of its being? Volume 2: The Use of Pleasure reviews ancient Greek texts on the erotic, dietetics, and other subjects to give perspective on the origins of "sexuality" by examining aphrodisia - the latter not particularly synonymous with the former, as difference in respective ideas of "virility" show.
Anyone with a passing knowledge of Aristotle's Nichomachean Ethics digs his focus on virtue through "moderation". (That's sōphrosynē to you classicists.) In between two given behavioral extremes, there's always a mean in between that the virtuous man follows (although it usually ain't the median between the two). So what quality did the virtuous man have that allowed him to more-or-less tread the moderate path?
"Mastery" (enkrateia), in short. In order for a man to be virtuous, his rational faculties had to hold sway over his sensual inclinations: he had to be a "ruler" (archontas) and not "ruled" (archomenous) in relation to himself, just like Plato's hierarchy. Now, the blatant sexism in that last sentence is intentional - in fact, it's key to the whole process here. When we're talking virtue in ancient Greece, we're talking about men. Whether that's being a good citizen of the polis, a kick-ass Athenian general, or even a wise slave of the Stoic sort, it means being manly. Enkrateia was (in addition to being the power of a king over a subject or a lord over a slave) the same sort of "mastery" that a man had over his wife and household, and that the "top" in a sexual encounter had over the "bottom".
This isn't to say that virtue wasn't expected of women or that they couldn't have enkrateia or sōphrosynē, but that "this virtue was always referred in some way to virility. . .there was also a structural reference, since in order for a woman to be moderate, she had to establish a relationship of superiority and domination over herself that was virile by definition." (Foucault, p. 83) A virtuous woman was a manly woman, in the womanly fashion of being manly. (That make sense? Good.) The way Greek morality seems to be ordered, no matter whether one was "ruler" or "ruled" in relation to Athens, one was obligated to set up the same hierarchy inside oneself with one's rationality at the top. You had to kick your own inner ass - and make all those worrisome inclinations towards the extreme (quite literally) your bitch.
Now, aphrodisia (remember Aphrodite?) was subject to one of these dichotomies and had a moderate mean to follow. (It must be stressed that this wasn't particularly parallel to sexual virtue as a later, Christian concept: the exercise of all virtue was dependent on individual situations, and whether it was virtuous to freak nasty or not could even depend on whether you planned on taking your supper late that evening.) The mean in question was between being completely desensitized to erotic and sensory pleasure (something that Aristotle admitted to be extremely rare) and its opposite: chasing every tail that wagged your way, and sometimes a few that didn't.
That means that if you were prone (like a great many of the contemporaries of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle) to all sorts of wacky sexual adventures, even with women, you weren't particularly virile. In fact, you vere a vussy girly man, ja! Of course many folks would have the inclination to stick it in wherever they saw an opening; what made you a virile master of yourself, and thus a virtuous person, was to know when to go at it and when to let it be. What this meant for ancient Greek sexual ethics was manifest in its differences with modern ideas about being masculine or effeminate.
The dividing line between a virile man and an effeminate man did not coincide with our opposition between hetero- and homosexuality; nor was it confined to the opposition between active and passive homosexuality. It marked the difference in people's attitudes toward the pleasures, and the traditional signs of effeminacy. . .were not necessarily associated with the individual who in the nineteenth century would be called an "invert", but with the one who yielded to the pleasures that enticed him: he was under the power of his own appetites and those of others." (Foucault, p. 85)
If you were a pretty boy favoring ostentatious dress and perfumery, if you didn't like to participate in suitably manly sports, if you were prone to malakia ("softness" in the sense of being unmanly, but also associated with disease and sickness), then it was just as likely that you were hounding the ladies as it was that you were hyperactively homosexual. What you were doing was failing to be a man to yourself by not standing up to the ways your body was likely to lead you astray, and that tended, in the Greek mind, to manifest itself in the way you talked, how healthy you were, how successful you were at raising children, and so on. If your inner hierarchy was a shambles, it was likely to show in how well you acted out your role in the hierarchy of Athens and the rest of the external world.
These ideas led to a lot of conclusions that were seemingly alien, and yet very related, to later Christian ways of looking at sex and society. Medieval thinkers often looked to the pure and innocent virgin young woman as the epitome of sexual morality. Such a person without sin would have nothing to confess, and was thus free of taint in the Church's eyes. There's a reason why Sir Galahad was raised by women into a virginal lifestyle and thus was able to get his hands around the Holy Grail, while Dear Daddy, the ultra-masculine womanizer and beloved friend to the rough-and-tumble Knights of the Round Table, had to kneel at the entrance to that sacred Mass. Yet Christianity's association of constant sexual self-control with power above that of one's fellow man is at least akin to enkrateia, if far more demanding of restraint. Its means of dealing with sex as a discourse of guilt and confession to God through the Church is also heavily related to the medical and social dedication of Greek texts to aphrodisia as at least one physical aspect of his life where a man could display virtue.
And, of course, to the Greeks, practice made perfect (hence some Athenian philosophers' admiration of brutal Spartan child-rearing practices designed to make young men into young soldiers). Mastering the genitalia was a lot like mastering an instrument, or rhetoric, or a certain sport: that is, you pursued virtue in that field as a unique individual, making some mistakes and trying your best while (if you were wise) learning as you went. The right amount, method, and partner(s) in one's sexual life had to be gauged independently through "growing experiences", as we say nowadays. So while Aristotle might not think that all those letters to Penthouse about how you slept with four Roller Derby sex goddesses at once made you a big virile hunk o' man, he could at least be content that you'd gained some valuable insight into who'd be in your motel room the next time around.
Michel Foucault's History of Sexuality spans a wide variety of topics, examining ancient to contemporary Western discourse on the sexual act. Specifically, it examines the origin of what we know today as "sexuality": a biological, psychological, and historical area of study that has been delineated as somehow above or apart from the rest of human activity. How and why did the canon of "proper behavior" in Western society place not only the sexual act, but constant discussion and definition of the sexual act, at the core of its being? Volume 2: The Use of Pleasure reviews ancient Greek texts on the erotic, dietetics, and other subjects to give perspective on the origins of "sexuality" by examining aphrodisia - the latter not particularly synonymous with the former, as difference in respective ideas of "virility" show.
Anyone with a passing knowledge of Aristotle's Nichomachean Ethics digs his focus on virtue through "moderation". (That's sōphrosynē to you classicists.) In between two given behavioral extremes, there's always a mean in between that the virtuous man follows (although it usually ain't the median between the two). So what quality did the virtuous man have that allowed him to more-or-less tread the moderate path?
"Mastery" (enkrateia), in short. In order for a man to be virtuous, his rational faculties had to hold sway over his sensual inclinations: he had to be a "ruler" (archontas) and not "ruled" (archomenous) in relation to himself, just like Plato's hierarchy. Now, the blatant sexism in that last sentence is intentional - in fact, it's key to the whole process here. When we're talking virtue in ancient Greece, we're talking about men. Whether that's being a good citizen of the polis, a kick-ass Athenian general, or even a wise slave of the Stoic sort, it means being manly. Enkrateia was (in addition to being the power of a king over a subject or a lord over a slave) the same sort of "mastery" that a man had over his wife and household, and that the "top" in a sexual encounter had over the "bottom".
This isn't to say that virtue wasn't expected of women or that they couldn't have enkrateia or sōphrosynē, but that "this virtue was always referred in some way to virility. . .there was also a structural reference, since in order for a woman to be moderate, she had to establish a relationship of superiority and domination over herself that was virile by definition." (Foucault, p. 83) A virtuous woman was a manly woman, in the womanly fashion of being manly. (That make sense? Good.) The way Greek morality seems to be ordered, no matter whether one was "ruler" or "ruled" in relation to Athens, one was obligated to set up the same hierarchy inside oneself with one's rationality at the top. You had to kick your own inner ass - and make all those worrisome inclinations towards the extreme (quite literally) your bitch.
Now, aphrodisia (remember Aphrodite?) was subject to one of these dichotomies and had a moderate mean to follow. (It must be stressed that this wasn't particularly parallel to sexual virtue as a later, Christian concept: the exercise of all virtue was dependent on individual situations, and whether it was virtuous to freak nasty or not could even depend on whether you planned on taking your supper late that evening.) The mean in question was between being completely desensitized to erotic and sensory pleasure (something that Aristotle admitted to be extremely rare) and its opposite: chasing every tail that wagged your way, and sometimes a few that didn't.
That means that if you were prone (like a great many of the contemporaries of Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle) to all sorts of wacky sexual adventures, even with women, you weren't particularly virile. In fact, you vere a vussy girly man, ja! Of course many folks would have the inclination to stick it in wherever they saw an opening; what made you a virile master of yourself, and thus a virtuous person, was to know when to go at it and when to let it be. What this meant for ancient Greek sexual ethics was manifest in its differences with modern ideas about being masculine or effeminate.
The dividing line between a virile man and an effeminate man did not coincide with our opposition between hetero- and homosexuality; nor was it confined to the opposition between active and passive homosexuality. It marked the difference in people's attitudes toward the pleasures, and the traditional signs of effeminacy. . .were not necessarily associated with the individual who in the nineteenth century would be called an "invert", but with the one who yielded to the pleasures that enticed him: he was under the power of his own appetites and those of others." (Foucault, p. 85)
If you were a pretty boy favoring ostentatious dress and perfumery, if you didn't like to participate in suitably manly sports, if you were prone to malakia ("softness" in the sense of being unmanly, but also associated with disease and sickness), then it was just as likely that you were hounding the ladies as it was that you were hyperactively homosexual. What you were doing was failing to be a man to yourself by not standing up to the ways your body was likely to lead you astray, and that tended, in the Greek mind, to manifest itself in the way you talked, how healthy you were, how successful you were at raising children, and so on. If your inner hierarchy was a shambles, it was likely to show in how well you acted out your role in the hierarchy of Athens and the rest of the external world.
These ideas led to a lot of conclusions that were seemingly alien, and yet very related, to later Christian ways of looking at sex and society. Medieval thinkers often looked to the pure and innocent virgin young woman as the epitome of sexual morality. Such a person without sin would have nothing to confess, and was thus free of taint in the Church's eyes. There's a reason why Sir Galahad was raised by women into a virginal lifestyle and thus was able to get his hands around the Holy Grail, while Dear Daddy, the ultra-masculine womanizer and beloved friend to the rough-and-tumble Knights of the Round Table, had to kneel at the entrance to that sacred Mass. Yet Christianity's association of constant sexual self-control with power above that of one's fellow man is at least akin to enkrateia, if far more demanding of restraint. Its means of dealing with sex as a discourse of guilt and confession to God through the Church is also heavily related to the medical and social dedication of Greek texts to aphrodisia as at least one physical aspect of his life where a man could display virtue.
And, of course, to the Greeks, practice made perfect (hence some Athenian philosophers' admiration of brutal Spartan child-rearing practices designed to make young men into young soldiers). Mastering the genitalia was a lot like mastering an instrument, or rhetoric, or a certain sport: that is, you pursued virtue in that field as a unique individual, making some mistakes and trying your best while (if you were wise) learning as you went. The right amount, method, and partner(s) in one's sexual life had to be gauged independently through "growing experiences", as we say nowadays. So while Aristotle might not think that all those letters to Penthouse about how you slept with four Roller Derby sex goddesses at once made you a big virile hunk o' man, he could at least be content that you'd gained some valuable insight into who'd be in your motel room the next time around.
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