. . . goes the old song. Bringing me back to a pet peeve in popular culture,
even on the left . . . the aphorism that “rape is about power, not sex.” The
Ford-Kavanaugh sham hearing tells us something a good deal more difficult. Rape
is sexual, and sex is always inflected with power. I know it’s passé to truck out a fossil-phrase like “patriarchy,”
but it does stand for a form of systematic power that is still with us, as we
saw in bold relief on September 27th.
Even the left has been captured by the naturalistic fallacy on sex, first
because the left is still dominated by men who are all for sexual liberation as
long as it increases male access to female bodies, or it plugs into the post-critical
narratives of hedonism disguised as intellection. I went to a big DSA meeting
some time back, where women were well represented in the front of the room, but
the men still outnumbered the women in the rest of the room, and of fifteen
people who spoke up during the meeting, twelve were males.
I’m not lumping DSA (with whom I affiliate) in with the white-male
gerontocracy that is the Republican fraction of the Senate Judiciary Committee;
but note how patriarchy (or andrarchy,
as I’ll explain further down) is still the elephant in the room, with the Lindsey
Graham assholes planted on one side of male power as its defenders and the postmodern,
“post-feminist” erasure of women as a
class of political subjects on the other. Women, as women, can never catch a break, never say no, never stand their
ground.
First of all, sex is anything but natural. We don’t even get around to
it, barring sexual exploitation during childhood, until we’ve had a decade and
a half, more or less, of intense gender socialization combined with each person
trying to find her or his accommodation to the actually-existing gender order
as it is expressed in particular lives.
“Natural” evokes something quasi-sacred, like the picture of a bucolic
farm on the side of packaged, manufactured food that assures potential buyers
the product is “all natural.” Gamma rays are natural. Everything that “obeys”
physical laws is natural. Even our species-nature as an animal that requires a
highly plastic, closely-nurtured enculturation to survive is . . . natural. But not in the way that divides
nature and nurture, merely two interpretive frameworks imposed on the same
phenomena.
Sex has not been the same thing to different people in different times. Even if the procreative act responsible for each of us who are reading this now
involves (natural) sexual dimorphism all the way down to the gametes, a
uniquely modern understanding of procreation that didn’t exist for most people
in most times. Sex didn’t bear the same meanings in different times and places,
and likewise, sex has never borne the same consequences for men and women.
Ever. Which is why I find it curious how so many people on the left have been
so quick to adopt an approach of puerile rebellion against the white
patriarchy/andrachy—a kind of in-yo-face hedonistic celebration of “sex” that
finds the critique of, say, Andrea Dworkin, “feminist, not the fun kind,”
terribly inconvenient to this fundamentally libertarian account.
“A commitment to sexual equality with men,” she noted, “is a commitment
to becoming the rich instead of the poor, the rapist instead of the raped, the
murderer instead of the murdered.”
Sex has always been transmogrified by the power of biological men over
biological women (and the demonization of sexual minorities), which in many ways is a more fundamental, persistent, and intractable
form of power than class. (Sit back down and rest your nerves, as Mom used to
say. Class is important, and sex and class are inextricable. Thank you, Captain
Obvious.)
But Brett Kavanaugh and Christine Ford both went to the same elite prep school, and guess what? The creepy frat-boy sexual aggression there is extremely similar to the same kind of aggression among the less privileged. What makes class and sex different is not that class trumps gender (a system dividing power based on compulsory heterosexuality). What makes class and sex different is that sex involves both biologically-sourced desire and the complexity of males and females being in otherwise intimate relations. The class-boss does not live in the same home as the class-worker. The class-worker does not experience physical attraction (even desire is learned) for the class-boss. The strength and limitation of radical feminism—to which I owe a great intellectual debt—is how it has taken the Marxian account of class and applied to gender.
But Brett Kavanaugh and Christine Ford both went to the same elite prep school, and guess what? The creepy frat-boy sexual aggression there is extremely similar to the same kind of aggression among the less privileged. What makes class and sex different is not that class trumps gender (a system dividing power based on compulsory heterosexuality). What makes class and sex different is that sex involves both biologically-sourced desire and the complexity of males and females being in otherwise intimate relations. The class-boss does not live in the same home as the class-worker. The class-worker does not experience physical attraction (even desire is learned) for the class-boss. The strength and limitation of radical feminism—to which I owe a great intellectual debt—is how it has taken the Marxian account of class and applied to gender.
At least, they historicize it.
What was all that above about “andrarchy”? Heterosex for women was once
associated with the likelihood of maternal death, e.g. Not for men. Widely available birth control helped with that.
But something funny happened on the way to the Sexual Revolution of the nineteen-sixties
and seventies, beginning with the bourgeois revolutions of the eighteenth
century. First, white Atlantic patriarchy was overthrown by andrarchy.
Patriarchy was rule of the fathers, which figuratively applied even to kings.
In a kind of Oedipal twist, the republican revolutions (United States, Haiti,
France) explicitly called itself a band of brothers (fraternité) rebelling against their political fathers. Women, of
course, were still defined into nature (the ultimate object of masculine
conquest), but their status changed. From being the ward of a father, then
husband who becomes a father (patriarch), women became hypothetically available
to all sibling-men, the solution for which (from the men’s point of view) was
protective ownership. Men wouldn’t fight over women if each respected the
proprietary rights of other men. And so women were tossed out of the frying pan
of patriarchy into the fire of andrarchy,
the rule of fathers transformed into the rule of men, where their best accommodation
was often to submit to one man in exchange for protection from all other men
(the sexual protection racket). Some women, beginning at the turn of the twentieth
century, began demanding “equality” with men, and as time marched on, women
began to filter into fields of endeavor previously closed to them. This was
particularly pronounced in professional arenas (medicine, law, etc.) and with
the introduction of every more sophisticated business machines (computers) that
women could operate as easily as men. White gender—the prevailing white sex hierarchies
and norms—transitioned from the “separate spheres” framework of the nineteenth century
to a system in the metropolitan states where the public distinctions between
masculine and feminine work were being erased, whereupon male power over women
within compulsory heterosexuality became increasingly sexualized—that is, focusing the domination of women by men more
and more within sexuality itself. Associated with the generally felt need for
revenge among many men for their loss of power elsewhere, men came to eroticize
women’s humiliation and degradation. Male prerogative was increasingly focused
on sex itself. If women were going to become honorary men, the thought goes,
then we needn’t afford them the formal “respect” of yesteryear. This was one major
factor in the development of modern (now postmodern?) rape culture.
The libertarian account of sex, differentiating
sex from power in order to exonerate all “consensual” sex as just harmless fun
reminds me of what one fella I knew writing during the disastrous Duke Lacrosse
episode who described strip shows as “playing with the erotic.” Zero account of
objectification. Zero account of gendered power. Zero account of how dangerous
and humiliating this “job” might be, or the forces that pressure a woman to
take off her clothes to be ogled by drunken men. And yet now, in this
historical moment that includes Bill Clinton and Harvey Weinstein and Roy Moore
and Bill Cosby and Brett Kavanaugh, women are resurrecting that insight from
the past—the personal is the political. Politics is about power; and for many
women, their worst experiences of power have been intensely personal: pressure
for sex, unwanted sex to maintain bad but inescapable relationships, coerced
sex, sexual harassment, sexual humiliation, sexual assault, and rape. #MeToo
and #WhyIDidntReport are a watershed in American politics; and one that will be
met (even sometimes on the left, when it is less tactically convenient) with baleful,
writhing backlash like the outburst from Lindsey Graham and the whining outrage
of Brett Kavanaugh.
Gender is a keystone of power. These nascent movements, growing up around
women simply comparing experiences, are threatening that power by giving the
lie to the notion that sex and rape are not the same thing. Even “consent”
cannot take on a fulsome meaning so long as there is a power gradient between
men and women. Sex is not always rape; but rape is always about sex. I heard a
Democrat man once say to his workmates, “I want to hate-fuck Sarah Palin.” I
would now invite readers with the emotional endurance or the detachment
required, to look at the comments sections on articles about women and sex and
review this highly sexualized ways in which men—protected by the anonymity of
the web—attack women.
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