What You Really Really Want (13 page)

If you've already been the victim of a sexual trauma (such as incest, molestation, or sexual assault), first of all, I'm very sorry. It happened to me, too, and I know there's nothing I can say to make the pain of it go away. I also know that there's nothing
shameful about it—whatever happened, you didn't do anything shameful in that situation. The person who violated you did.

There's no “right answer” when considering the ways sexual trauma might impact your sexuality. Many survivors of sexual violence suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and PTSD can lead to disassociation, an increase in risk-taking behaviors, and increased risk of addiction—all symptoms that can complicate a survivor's relationship to sex. So it's no surprise that some survivors find that sex—or certain kinds of it—becomes very difficult for them, because it reminds them too much of the assault. Others develop unhealthy sexual compulsions that expose them to unnecessary emotional and physical risks.

Unfortunately, many people generalize this possibility of sexual dysfunction into a belief that women who've experienced sexual trauma are sexually “damaged,” and attribute any kind of sexual behavior on our part to our trauma. The problem with applying this stereotype to any particular survivor is that none of us can be reduced to a statistic. Knowing something is more or less likely about a group we belong to doesn't actually tell you anything about us in particular. If I told you that women with brown eyes are more likely to have brown hair, and you know I have brown eyes, could you know that my hair is brown? Of course not. And assuming an abuse survivor has an unhealthy relationship with sex is equally wrong. What's more, it yet again takes control away from the survivor when it comes to what she does or doesn't want to do with her body. Melissa McEwan, writing at her blog, Shakesville, tells of the terrible impact this dynamic had on her after she was raped:

Women who've experienced sexual trauma should be just as free as women who haven't to have sex (or not) on our own terms. Some of us may choose to stop having sex for a while, while others may find that having consensual sex helps us regain a feeling of control over our sexual choices. Many of us will find that one approach works for a while, then something shifts and another approach seems more appealing. The most healing thing I've found is to find a way to feel in control of your sexual choices. Which is how everyone should feel!

In other words, what matters isn't that we conform to some idea of how abuse victims are supposed to behave, but rather, that whatever sex we're having feels healthy and supportive to us and our partners. And that's not something that anyone else gets to decide for you.

So far, we've focused pretty exclusively on how stereotyping can make it harder for you to figure out and pursue what you really really want. But stereotyping cuts both ways. Just as we're all taught to believe certain things about sexuality long before we can decide for ourselves what makes sense, none of us are immune to stereotypes about others. In a practical sense, that means that each of us is constantly making assumptions about other people based on limited information. You see an older woman and assume she'd be scandalized if she knew what you did last night. You see a masculine-looking woman and assume she is attracted to women and likes to open doors. You see a dark-skinned woman and assume she's “exotic” and “easy.” You see a fat woman and assume she has no sexuality whatsoever.

Of course, you—you personally, you, sitting right there reading this—may not make any or all of these assumptions, but I guarantee you make some of your own. On the one hand, that's okay, in the sense that it's unavoidable. No one is ever completely free from stereotypes. It's just as impossible as becoming completely free of all the forces that influenced how you experience sexuality. But just like with those forces, the more you become aware of the stereotypes you do hold, the easier it becomes to minimize them and the damage they can do.

And yes, I said “damage.” Stereotyping other people is always damaging. Who gets damaged and how depends on how you act out your bias. If you make a comment to a friend about another girl's “slutty” clothing, you're damaging both the friend (by being yet another force that's telling her that there's a “right” and “wrong” way to express her sexuality through dress) and possibly the person you're commenting on (if your comments and the shaming they contain find their way back to her ears). If you treat a woman in a wheelchair as though she's a child and has no sexuality, or if you act shocked when she expresses her sexuality somehow, you're definitely damaging her by reinforcing artificial limitations on her sexuality that, I promise you, she had to work hard to overcome in order to express her sexuality in the first place.

But what if you don't express your stereotypes out loud? What if you just think them to yourself? That's better than acting on them, to be sure. But you may still be conveying your assumptions through subconscious behaviors. And even if you're not, even if you just see someone on the street and stereotype them in your mind as they walk by without even noticing you, well, you're still doing damage. You're doing damage to
yourself. You're sending your own self a message, which is that it's totally fair to make assumptions about someone's sexuality based on no real information. And that hurts you in two ways: (1) It cuts you off from learning about the real experiences and perspectives of people who may differ from you, which may mean you never connect with someone who could be a great friend or lover, or just that you lack some crucial information about the world, and (2) it sends you a message: Stereotypes are true. And that makes it harder for you to reject the stereotypes that others try to put on you.

Feeling frustrated by all of these social forces trying to limit your sexual options? You're not alone. Don't take it out on yourself—do something about it. When you find yourself butting up against oppressive stereotypes (or worse), try to channel your feelings outward, into outrage or action, as opposed to turning inward with feelings of hopelessness or inadequacy. Don't worry if you're not perfect at this—it takes a lot of practice. We'll talk in more detail in chapter 6 about dealing with difficult emotions, and in chapter 11 about ways to get involved with changing the sexual culture for everyone. And if you're interested in exploring any of the issues raised in this chapter in more depth, and connecting with other people working on
them, definitely check out
www.wyrrw.com/ch3resources
, as well as the following books:

CHAPTER 4

Y
OU MAY BE SURPRISED TO HEAR THAT I'M A STAUNCH defender of a girl's right to go wild. I just want to redefine the terms under which we can do it. I think if you want to wear a skimpy outfit because it makes you feel powerful or turned on, then you deserve a world in which you can do that without being harassed, shamed, or violated. If you want to make out with a stranger on a dance floor because it's thrilling and feels a little dangerous and because, well, that stranger is hot? Please get your mack on. Ditto for flirting, being out alone after dark, drinking socially, and nearly everything else on the list of things girls are supposed to avoid doing lest we “get ourselves” raped. Because you can't
get
yourself raped. No, really. You can't. Get yourself. Raped.
¹
You can only
be
raped. And if someone is raping you? Committing a violent felony assault against you? It's their fault, not yours, regardless of what you were doing beforehand.