How To Get Women To Like Sci-Fi

Tell them it’s good. Convince them that much of it has great storylines, exciting action, interesting characters and uses metaphor to make complex points about human nature/interaction/politics/religion. You’ll find this strategy works much the same way on your male friends who have also always assumed that sci-fi is mainly just childish wish-fulfillment and gadget-driven drivel.

Pardon the exceptionally simplistic title and the snarky opening paragraph, but it’s rare that I find myself able to say anything in so many fewer words than anyone else at all, and this article (which, as usual, I stumble across a week late, at which point anyone who might have cared has already moved on) pissed me off.

The above-described methodology for selling sci-fi to women is based on the fundamental premise that women are people and they like the things that people like. This is well-covered territory (it’s pretty much the driving point behind The Hathor Legacy, to which I continue to hold out hope that I will return as a regular poster/participant, even as my brain is still in its ongoing state of progressive rock-formation). I think what probably frustrated me more about the article was the underlying attitude that it’s the responsibility of women in het partnerships to learn to like what their man likes, because the poor guy has to watch BSG and Dr. Who by himself. Now, personally, I think anyone who categorically dismisses science fiction is likely to be too closed-minded for me to appreciate hir company, because it’s a pretty diverse genre, and like any other, it has its gems and it has its lemons, but I have to admit that there is a simple element of personal taste at work, and variety/spice/life etc.

I’ve read Megan McArdle articles before, so I knew enough to expect exactly this kind of sexism from her, but as a young woman who thinks BSG is by far the best show on television, who has been counting the days until Dark Knight comes out, who has a box at the local comic book store, and who regularly gets told by geeky tech boys that she is a “dream come true”, I have to protest to her enabling that bullshit. Because, see, geeky tech boys who see me as a “dream come true” don’t actually see me as a person. They see me as a trophy that talks, and their interest in me generally extends about as far as a checklist of interests and traits that they can list to their buddies, the white whale they’ve finally managed to capture. Not to mention the fact that liking these things – and being a dream girl – comes with the additional expectation that I will essentially act like a man, but with tits, and that my tech boy won’t have to deal with any of the silly girly baggage that is usually the mandatory, nearly unbearable, cost that (het) men have to pay in order to get any sex at all. McArdle fortunately absolves them of this notion immediately by acknowledging apologetically that she does actually also come with a shoe addiction and an irrational, flighty focus on decorating that will have to be tolerated by any interested tech-boys (fortunately, the side effect of these things is that our male friends can be assured of their ongoing intellectual superiority and greater depth of appreciation for the wonder that is the Dalek).

I find it frustrating to devote feminist energy to thinking about how to negotiate the hetero dating scene, but every so often when I come across something like this and I do think about it, I wonder again why we’re still stuck on this “women = people” concept.


Long Rambles Through the Anglican Communion (Part One of Possibly Many)

I stumbled onto these thoughts about “The Anglican Church, Sexuality and Colonialism” earlier this week, and want to add to them, but don’t quite know what to say. It’s a short post, but it’s a question that I wish weren’t as complicated as it is.

Now, in as much as I’m anything, denominationally speaking, I’m Anglican, though I’m explicitly uncommited to any such category. The question of same-sex marriage in the church has been pretty prominent around here in recent months, and I’ve had both four billion things to say and nothing new to say on the subject, and based on inertia defaulted into writing absolutely nothing.

I’m somewhat ashamed to admit that in the past, I’ve been pretty wishy-washy on the subject of how churches should handle the same-sex marriage question. Before I was Christian, my position was that it was essentially none of my business and that it was an issue that the faith community itself would have to address. In retrospect, that was based on conflict avoidance more than anything else – I have some very close friends who have been long-time members of an Anglican church and who have seriously wrestled with how they feel about the blessing of same-sex marriages. It was also easier to be wishy-washy about it in Canada than I suspect it would be anywhere else – since same-sex marriage has been legally recognized here in Ontario since 2003, and in all of Canada since 2005, all of the civil rights and privileges that come with marriage are given (I’ve heard some people object to the term “blessing” in these discussions, but given the pre-existing legal status, the only question at hand is essentially whether or not the church will conduct the ceremony and give symbolic approval, so I don’t know how else to distinguish what’s being discussed/debated and what’s already been decided). Not being Christian at the time, I honestly felt, in my cop-out kind of way, that it just wasn’t my place to say anything, because in a debate where both sides were arguing from interpretations of a text, someone taking a point that the text is essentially stupid is having a completely different conversation.

I find the hierarchical church-y specifics difficult to wade through, but basically, now, the Anglican Church of Canada has decided to allow individual dioceses to choose whether or not clergy will be allowed to preside over same-sex marriage ceremonies. The Diocese of Niagara (mine) fairly quickly went with the “yea” side. Since then, a few parishes have, in a protest move, essentially withdrawn from the Anglican Communion and initiated a whole series of legal battles about whether the parish gets to continue using the church/land or whether the diocese can lock them out (to give a beyond quick, reductive summary).

I have a post half-drafted about questions rolling around my own head about just a few of the issues about personal/spiritual identity and community that this raises (and unfortunately haven’t been able to formulate in time to submit to the upcoming “community” themed Carnival of Progressive Christians), but for now, the linked post just tweaked that old sense of wishy-washyness in me. I’m uncomfortable with the colonial imposition of (white) moral superiority as much as anyone, but as the post mentions, we’re talking about some seriously hateful actions coming out of churches that are supposed to be in communion with mine. We have a “cycle of prayer” in the Anglican Church, which includes notices in the bulletins that we’re supposed to pray for various Anglican bishops/leaders/churches around the world, and just a few weeks ago we were to pray for the ministry of one of the most homophobic bishops in existence. Essentially, what we as Anglicans are doing, then, is saying that we’re part of the same group as those who think that way, and I’m certainly feeling a lot less wishy-washy if I think of it that way.

Whenever legal issues around the sexual freedom or the liberalization of marriage stuff comes up, I’ve always been inclined to focus on the “separation of church and state” mentality when people raise the argument that legal changes would result in the imposition of changes to the way their faith is practiced. I was generally going with the position that if the church/religious regulations are in no way imposing upon the civil rights of individuals, then it’s not the place of governments to impose upon the faith practice of communities (Bullshit about pharmacists who refuse to dispense birth control imposes upon civil rights of individuals, as would employment discrimination on the basis of, say, sexuality). But as a member of the church now, I’m starting to be a lot more conscious of who’s imposing what on whom, because the idea that other human beings would be telling me that they were in a position to act as an authority on whether or not the God of my understanding would be willing to sanction my relationship, and that said other human beings would be so vehemently certain about the accuracy of their position that they would go so far as to prevent me from having the ceremony through which I believe said God could facilitate that sanctioning…I guess I’m just more conscious of how much it matters, and just how hurtful an action this really is.

I feel like I’m expending a whole bunch of words to say absolutely nothing (in my defense, I’m at work, and I’m going back and forth between doing this and doing, you know, work), but I guess the place towards which I’m wandering is the issue of authoritarianism in this discussion. I mean, it’s a capital-c Church, and it’s a “worldwide” Church, which means that given the current state of Christianity, there’s no real way to avoid the hierarchies and structures and exclusionary “in” vs. “out” group aspects of this question. It’s a transnational question, and it’s a question whose importance changes radically based on local laws as well as culture. And mostly, given that it’s all about hierarchy and authority and all those words like “permission” and “allow” that make the hair on the back of my neck stand up and that I find so fundamentally un-Christian, I find that just opening my mouth to talk about it makes me start to feel a loss of faith.

And mainly, it all makes me wonder what the hell it means to have a global Church in the first place, and who is entitled to an opinion on this question and who isn’t. It shouldn’t take me this long to get around to this point, but now that I’m a lot more hungry and tired and feeling a lot less equivocal, it does occur to me that one major response on that one is why the hell, from a colonialist/privileged/authoritarian/imposition on others perspective, straight people (Christian or non, Canadian or Nigerian) are of the automatic assumption that they are, in fact, entitled to that voice in the first place.

How I Became A Sex-Positive Christian

It’s a bit tough for me to ask that question, actually, because I haven’t struggled all that much to reconcile my feminist/sex-positive beliefs with biblical or Church teachings. I came to faith long after I came to feminism, and because of that, or for any number of other reasons, my convictions about how I should live in this world with respect to the promotion of equality are far less shakeable than the trappings of how I worship God or the specifics of how I understand God.

I don’t like to talk about my spiritual awakening on the internet. Many of the details are very personal, and speaking in generalizations doesn’t seem a lot better, to me, given the argumentative nature of internet discussions and the complete absence of any need, in my mind, to “prove” anything metaphysical to myself or convince anyone else of its truth. I’d make a terrible apologist and an even worse evangelist, because spiritually, the only thing I have to speak to is what’s been true and useful in my life.

In and of itself, that statement already establishes me as something of a heretic. I went through a short period in the very early days of my faith during which I thought I should look more into the theological foundations of arguments on either side of all those sexy, sexy issues, and the rules and apparent prohibitions about same-sex marriage/relationships, divorce/remarriage, or even sex outside of marriage. It was all very academic, really, and all the Biblical exegesis available in the world was never going to satisfy the need for which I came to the church in the first place. When the idea of divorce and leaving a marriage became of serious practical importance in my life, I spent some time looking at the points in scripture where the issue is mentioned, and I tried to be as honest as possible in questioning whether it was the right thing to do from a moral, rather than a self-seeking, perspective. And it’s certainly not that I wanted to leave my marriage – it was an incredibly painful decision to have to make, and though I’ve long been certain that it was the right one, it’s never been an easy one to implement, so I think even calling it selfish or self-serving is disingenuous at best.

While I managed to find ways to be rationally and intellectually comfortable with the way the idea of divorce is viewed in the Bible, and to reconcile that with my own situation, if I’m being perfectly frank, I don’t think I could have made a different decision even if I hadn’t been able to do so. When discussions of faith and spiritual practice happen online (or among any kind of religiously diverse crowd), I know that the least convincing, least rigorous argument/reason for doing something or believing in something specific is that one prayed, and received an answer. But that’s what happened in this case – I prayed, and I was absolutely certain that the right thing for me to do, in my specific situation, was leave a marriage that was preventing me from becoming happily and usefully whole, in relation to God and to others (I know this can strike some progressives as a dangerous methodology, given the fact that it’s also used by exactly those Christian fundamentalists I would claim to be countering, but I think Barack Obama’s recent speech on the separation of Church and state, and the limitations of application of this kind of thought, answers that political objection extremely well).

It turns out, somewhere along the line, that I became something of a pragmatist. I’m basing my faith on the foundation that God wants humans, as individuals, as communities, and as societies, to be united in love and to experience release from suffering. I think He wants us to be humble, equal, and useful. I agree with William James’ assessment of faith as “the sense of life by virtue of which man does not destroy himself, but lives on”. I’m meandering around a lot of thoughts (and actually really just solidifying some of them in my head as I write this), but it seems that the answer to how I became a sex-positive Christian is very similar to the answer to how I became a sex-positive feminist that I gave two posts ago. I couldn’t care less about dogma or about creating a coherent theory or about having a rational framework of rules and regulations against which I can evaluate every decision, every belief, every thought, whether that system would come from the Bible, from Germaine Greer or from bell hooks. I care about examining, on a case by case basis, on a day-to-day basis and on the basis of what I see right in front of me, whether my actions are serving to bring me closer to God or push me further away, and whether I’m acting in a way that creates unity and harmony or in a way that creates both internal and interpersonal discord.

One of the reasons I’m unhappy with the term “sex-positive” is that I don’t feel it’s comprehensive enough, or rather, that it doesn’t adequately describe the way that my affirmative attitude toward sexual autonomy actually has very little to do with sex. In comments to my sex-positive feminist post (which, in my state of bleh, I pretty much completely neglected to respond to), Jay said:

…I’m working myself through this whole tangle of what sex is/isn’t and what it is/isn’t “supposed to be” in western society, or world society, or from a religious standpoint.

I’d really just like more honest discussion about sex, rather than it being a “_____” topic, where blank can equal “taboo”, “risque”, “crude”, or “sensitive”. At the risk of being crude (and over-generalizing things)…it’s just fucking, people. Can’t we discuss it like rational human beings?

No, apparently…because most human beings don’t like being rational, and because for a lot of people, it ISN’T just about fucking. It’s also about power, and money, and morality, and religion, and emotions. And all of those things are complicated, and they complicate discussion of sex.

It isn’t just about fucking to me, either. It’s about how I treat myself and how I treat others. It’s about power and emotions and self-respect and respect for other human beings and unity and love and peace and acceptance. Just like everything else I do that involves existing in the world and actively engaging with other people in it, including writing blog posts, going to church, getting to work and buying coffee. Except naked (Jay – I’m not contradicting the point you made in that comment, I quoted it because I agree with it wholeheartedly; I’m just using the “just fucking” line to try to get at some other thoughts).

Like I said, I’d make a terrible apologist/evangelist, because I don’t expect people to be much convinced by my prayers and gut feelings and sense of spiritual harmony, especially since those things are all in my gut and in my soul and not really so much on this blog page. Then again, it turns out that I don’t really care, because those things are in my gut and in my soul and not really so much on this blog page.

Using That Word

As I’m sure you’ve all been totally devastated by the absence of Purtek’s thoughts over the past couple of weeks, I feel like I should offer some sort of explanation for my bloglessness. Except that there really isn’t one, except that the absence of Purtek’s thoughts has not been limited to the blog version; the drought is extending right into my brain, and I’ve been extra-inclined toward feeling exhausted, overwhelmed and kind of frighteningly apathetic these days.

All that is also intended to reduce pressure on the content of this post, freeing me up to just try to write *something* without the self-imposed requirement that it actually be *good*.

So, I know I’m extremely late on responding to the medical rape story that Caroline at Uncool has been trying to bring to the attention of the blog world, but something about it is still ringing with me, beyond the fact that it’s just an absolutely horrifying story. Caroline’s right – Dr. Crippen’s behaviour is bullying, targetting a woman who was clearly questioning and processing, and making herself emotionally vulnerable in the process. It displays an inability to empathize with another human being on the most basic level, or, at the very minimum, an uncanny ability to forget that the words on blogs, in many cases, are not theoretical, hypothetical or merely philosophical, but painfully real and personal. I think the latter interpretation represents an undeserved level of generosity, personally.

In the broader, general sense, I think what stands out to me about this situation is the way the semantics of the word “rape” are being debated. Now, I’m the first to get pissed off when someone uses the term as a casual metaphor for a difficult exam or overpriced parking, and I really do think it’s important to do so, because hell yeah does that diminish the experience of actual rape. It’s a fucking harsh, powerful word, and it hits me just to hear it spoken. When I’m talking about my own experiences, I often find myself avoiding it in order to protect the person I’m talking to from feeling the full weight of the word. “Sexual assault” sounds so much less graphic, less explicit, less painful. More clinical. It’s self-protective as well – I feel like I’m taking a far larger, far more emotional risk when I use the word “rape” than when I choose the more tentative, more ambiguous “sexual assault”. The sense of vulnerability, the feeling of exposure, the fear that I won’t be believed, is more significant when it’s attached to the word “rape”.

At the same time – and maybe for exactly the same reason – I do think that there are situations that may not meet the canonical definition of “rape” in which it’s appropriate to use the word, because nothing else has the same kind of descriptive power, nothing else in the English language can adequately convey how you feel about something that was done to you. To me, it’s abundantly clear that Debs was in exactly that situation, and given the specifics of what happened to her, I honestly cannot believe that people are so callous that not only are they willing to aggressively and condescendingly convey their disapproval of her word choice, they go so far as to mock and demean her for it. Getting pedantic and legalistic about how the word rape necessarily indicates some kind of sexual motivation is a smokescreen that has been exposed on plenty of other blogs, and the use of the excuse that Dr. Crippen and his ilk are just trying to avoid the further watering down of the term “rape”, reserving it for “real” rape victims rings oh-so-clearly with the tones of exactly what has been said to those of us who have been raped by people we were dating, people who were known to us, after we’d been drinking, after we’d initiated some level of sexual contact, whatever.

I’ve alluded several times on this blog to my experiences last summer and some of the feelings that came of it. Because the risks still feel too big, and because my emotional reactions to it continue to shift and change and settle, I doubt I’ll ever write about exactly what happened. I wasn’t raped. I wasn’t attacked or physically assaulted. I wasn’t even coerced into doing something I wasn’t entirely sure that I wanted to do. For a few days after it happened, I alternated between feeling numb and feeling absolutely manic. About three or four days later, I woke up at 4 a.m. in a state of panic. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t think. I was terrified, but I really had no sense of what it was that was scaring me. I lived in a 9th floor apartment at the time, and there was a big part of me that thought I might just throw myself right over the balcony – I wasn’t suicidal per se, but an understanding close friend was very accurate when she related it to the feeling of just wanting to die and wake up when the pain was over. And I remember thinking “When have I felt this way before?” and realizing that it was almost exactly as I had felt the last time I was raped. It was the same the kind of despair, the same sense that I had lost all control over my life, the same feeling that someone else had essentially erased me as a human being with desires and needs and an existence of my own.

Now, when I’ve talked about it, I’ve never suggested that I was raped. I’ve certainly never suggested that I had any intention of pursuing any kind of criminal charges or anything like that. I know it’s different. But the feelings didn’t map onto anything else that made sense to me, and the only way I could talk about it was to relate it back to what I had felt before. The people who helped me were the people who could hear that, and listen to it, and know that all I was doing was trying to put words to experiences and feelings that made absolutely no sense otherwise.

It seems to me that’s what Debs was doing, though since she’s never been raped, she can only draw on what she imagines she would feel based on having listened to the stories of women (and possibly also men) she knows who have talked to her about how they felt. I don’t quite know how to describe the discomfort I feel about the way I have, at times, been granted more credence to use these words to talk about an experience that is far less like rape than what happened to Debs. I’ve seen more than a few comments on the blog posts on this topic that have said things like “Before you use this word, think about how you would make a real rape victim feel,” in a manner that suggests that not only has Debs not thought about that (and agonized about it), but that there is only one possible conclusion to be reached if one does think about it. Those comments have this overtone, to me, of overprotectiveness based on the perceived inability of women who have been raped to think logically about their experiences, relate to the experiences of others, or contextualize their emotions. I don’t think I have the brain power at this time of night to properly unpack what I mean by that, but it strikes me as another version of the kind of attitude that allows for the dismissal of the opinions of rape victims on the subject of rape, because your trauma and irrational fear will cause you to see it in every situation. Far too many people can be far too cavalier about what it means to have to recover from rape, but hell if I’m going to sign on to this paternalistic overprotectiveness as the alternative.

Especially if it involves bullying, silencing and progressively limiting who is allowed to use what words when they’re talking in carefully thought-out ways about very personal, very damaging experiences.


This is the result of turning people into products, of using words that allow you to think of human beings as commodities, problems, objects.

As Nezua says:

If only this 17 year old girl had been seen as a human being, working hard for a future, and in need of certain care and protection. Like water. And shade.

Instead, she, like so many still are, was seen and treated like a modern-day slave, with no feelings or purpose beyond production.

It’s more noticeable because this woman was pregnant, because she was so young, maybe even because she was female. But regardless of all of those features, it happened because she was de-humanized. I don’t care how she got to where she was, I don’t care if she broke some laws to do it. She didn’t forfeit her humanity. Somebody else cashed it in.

Most likely somebody with a sunflower, who never knew her name.

(See also brownfemipower, who tries to explain why, in light of this ongoing, mass dehumanization, it’s difficult to feel “mournful” about Hillary Clinton’s individual, failed attempt to attain the status of highest sunflower in the land).

How I Became a Sex-Positive Feminist

So a lot of people have already answered this question, but as usual, I’m slow with the thinking. See brilliance, for example, from Sarah J, from Caroline, from belledame (note particularly belledame’s points about the heteronormative attitude toward female same-sex attraction in the question).

It’s an extremely frustrating question. I joined in the snark inherent in putting a bunch of sexy hockey player pictures up for a couple of reasons (the first being sexy hockey players), but I’m under no illusion that doing so answered the question or got anywhere near the problem with the question, so allow me to go on a bit of a ramble that hopefully knocks out some insight or insight-inducing obviousness, at the very least.

First, Laura notes that she hates the term “sex positive”, but that there isn’t a better one. Personally, I hate it too, and generally only see it being used mockingly by those who oppose it, though they seem to hate it too and use it with attached disclaimers like “self-described” or “self-proclaimed”. Even the Carnival is called “Sexual Freedom and Autonomy”. I didn’t really ever declare myself “sex positive”. The closest I really came was on this post, when I said:

If this makes me a twittery sex-pos moron, well, hook me up. Hearing echoes of the words of rapists from the mouths of self-identified feminists is not on my list of ways to have a good time.

That’s reason #1 for the frustration. I may be wrong, but nobody seems happy with this term, and yet somehow everybody seems to think it’s the best of the available options, despite the fact that dialogue around it seriously loses focus because nobody being happy with it means nobody really has a good sense of what it means.

Reason #2 for the frustration is also pretty well covered in that post of mine that I linked – I stumbled into “sex positivity” not because I was looking for ways to be turned on, or because I was looking for a philosophical/political way to reconcile my feminism with liking p*rn, or because I felt like it would make me more popular with the boys (newsflash: it hasn’t), or because I don’t give a fuck about violence against women and would rather talk about cutesy sparkliness and hot het sex. I came to this position because more and more, I’m convinced that politically, placing limits – be they legal or social – on sexuality and on sexual expression is only serving and can only serve to increase rates of violence against women, decrease options for doing anything about it, and worsen the impact of the events. So this kind of “riddle me this, ladies” tone smacks of missing the point, to me – “if you all are so all about the feminism, why don’t you think there should be more pictures of men, hmm?”. And then the “gotcha” in the comments, from Jennifer Drew:

Well the answer is obvious because men’s naked bodies must never ever be exposed. Only women are sexualised objects never, ever men. But still it is sex positive because women’s naked bodies are exposed for men to leer at and other women too can look and compare themselves to such images. It is called male-centric ideologies but masking itself as ‘sex positive’ which means women = sexual commodities but never ever men.

Now, in my case, I’m not linking to pictures or anything anyway (also, most of the world and I remain in blissful ignorance of one another), so I know I’m not really the target for the question, but God-fucking-dammit does this “obvious” answer piss me off. In so far as I’m a “sex positive” feminist, I focus primarily on talking about how women are affected because I can see with my obvious-seeing eyes that women in our society have been the ones who haven’t been allowed to enjoy/express/appreciate the full range of human experiences, including sexuality. Virgin/whore dichotomies ensure that no matter what, no matter in what environment, no matter what choice a woman makes, she will be subjected to sexual scrutiny that is inherently dehumanizing. “Radical” feminists denigrating women who participate in p*rn as “fuck holes” (and sidebar: is anyone asking them why they’re not questioning how the men are seen as merely “fuck sticks”, there only to give the women screaming orgasms?) are participating in exactly that game. “Beyond” feminist cartoonists who justify mocking conventionally attractive women by saying that their beauty is placing pressure on the rest of us are participating in that game. Frustrated feminists who emphasize that at least “a little bit of kink/p*rn watching” has become practically mandatory in young liberal culture (wish I could find the link to the thread that was saying that repeatedly, but I totally can’t remember where I saw it) and who blame “sex-positivity” for the fact that some assholes call them “prudes” are participating in that game (and missing the point about who the other participants are).

Yesterday, I decided my “Female Desire Week” angle would be the hockey players, for reasons that are extremely obvious if you know anything about either hockey or real-life me. Others posted pics and videos of actors, musicians, other athletes, etc. And you know, in light of how Madonna/Beyoncé/Scarlett Johanssen and women like them are getting shit for daring to be (conventionally) attractive in addition to talented and for posing in ways that might turn men on or whatever, here’s something that strikes me about this whole “where are the men in this equation” question: If you look through those pictures I posted, Sergei Federov and Sheldon Souray in particular are *clearly* posed in a way that is pretty much *nothing but* sexual. Sidney Crosby is a little bit of sport, a whole lot of sex. Sarah J’s posted shot of Vinnie Lecavalier? Same thing. But all of those guys are still hockey players, no one’s suggesting they’re diminishing the quality of their game by posing, and no one seems to be criticizing them for daring to have bodies that they use for sex in addition to hitting other men into boards. I noted the double bind of finding them attractive in yesterday’s post: if I’m turned on by sexy men while watching hockey, I’m likely to be mocked as a giggly, boy-crazy ditz who can’t appreciate the beautiful poetry on ice or whateverthefuck, but even as friends are teasing me for this, I’m told that women aren’t as visually stimulated.

See the problem here? Men are allowed to be sexual entities and simultaneously talented, accomplished, successful individuals. Men are presumed to be sexually free to do what they want with their bodies. If I’m focusing on women, it’s because, duh, they’re the ones who still aren’t able to do that. This would be what’s known as “not rocket science”.

I do want to look at least a little at how I reconcile this “sex positivity” (or whatever the kids are calling it these days) with practicing my faith, but this would be, as usual, far too long already.

Female Desire Week: Post Stanley Cup Edition

Renegade Evolution has declared it “Female Desire Week” in response to a question from Laura at the F-word. I want to respond a little bit more to the question asked there later, but for now, I have no interest in being think-y, like, at all.

Me, I’ll bring out the hockey fan persona that I’ve thus far kept hidden from this blog. Now, even though this is FD week and all, I’m still a little bit hesitant to talk like this, because on the one hand, we girls aren’t supposed to be able to appreciate the male flesh, but on the other, we’re not supposed to be able to follow a puck around the ice because our boobs get in the way or something. So just to be clear, I do love me some hockey for hockey’s sake, and I will get into a long debate with you about the relative merits of the salary cap or exactly why it is that I’m pissed that Marian Hossa decided to go and score 12 goals during this year’s playoffs, but I will also fully acknowledge that while I’m watching these guys hit each other into the boards, I’m seriously contemplating how they might translate that energy in *my* direction.

Ahem. So, pictures…

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