Hey, you go to Liberal Arts University. I bet you’ve heard about sex, haven’t you? Maybe you’ve heard that it’s neat, maybe you’ve heard that it’s kind of like a sneeze, or maybe you’ve heard that you should pee right after it. Maybe you’ve heard too much, or too little, or just the right amount. Maybe you’ve swiped right for it. Maybe you’ve doneitinacanoe,oronashag carpet. The maybes surrounding sex are seemingly infinite (with the exception that the word “yes” should always be prefaced and continued throughout the occasion). But maybe, too, you haven’t had sex.
At Dub Club this week, the topic was about being a bad feminist. Often times, women and men are afraid to associate themselves with the term “feminist” as whirling perceived connotations and implications surrounding the term can render it intimidating. There seems to be a prevailing trend in some dialogues about feminism that the idea is unalterably linked to a dedicated and open sex life. So to be a feminist, you have to be willing to shag and brag.
Sexual empowerment is critical to a world governed by fairness and equality.
Slut shaming, or criticizing a woman for her real or presumed sexual activity or for behaving in ways that insinuate her real or presumed sexual activity is a motif that our society needs to be dismally ashamed of. Any woman or man has the right to choose to have sex with ten, twenty, thirty partners, if given consensual assent. For no reason should he or she be diminished for her choice.
Equally, any woman or man has the right to choose to not engage in sex. However, popular discourse seems to diminish the complexity or variability which dictates why somebody may abstain. On TV, the female virgin character is usually defined by her quest to lose her virginity, and thus become an empowered, emboldened, spicy woman of the world. But what about her other aspirations? What about the many different avenues she can glide down to feel resilient, to feel bold, to feel beautiful, and to feel herself? We are taught to pity and judge, that only by shedding a veil of virginity will we be able to embrace our own femininity. Why is it assumed that for the modern woman virginity is a burden, not a choice?
By assigning tenants to the concepts of feminism, polarizing those who are for and are against by acute categories such as degree of sexual exploration, we fail to acknowledge the complexity and richness of the feminine and human experience. Making a choice to abstain from sex whether it is due to religion, to personal desires, or to a myriad of other entangling rationale. The definition of feminism should not be so rigid as to exclude anybody who desires equality because of a personal choice. Creating fissures in a united movement of feminism by stigmatizing or labeling one another into polarizing categories negates the reality of just how much we have in common.
Virgin shaming and slut shaming suggest that who a woman chooses to have or not have sex with is up for enquiry and judgment by others. A person’s worth is not dependent upon who they decide to sleep with, or whether they want to have sex. Look around—we are all worth so much more than that.