Recently, I participated, in a willing, great hook-up. The week before I participated in a willing make-out session. I just moved to a new town. I don’t know anyone around here that well, and the unfortunate thing about that is that I don’t know who knows who — for instance how close hook-up A is to hook-up B. This is where my story really starts.
Let’s call the two guys I’ve hooked up with Boy A and Boy B. Boy A had a crush on me. Since I had only known him for about a week, I assumed it was casual. I was wrong. At some point during our short time together, he decided we were in a relationship. Now, we’re talking about a guy that I’ve probably seen four times in my life and who I never told I was interested in being in a relationship. This is where Boy B steps in.
I had met Boy B the week before and found him attractive. The next week I saw him at a party and we began talking about Lord of The Rings, Zombies and Star Wars. Clearly, I was interested. One thing led to another and we hooked up. The next day I texted Boy A and he responded by saying (and I quote): “I heard Boy B jack-hammered your crotch last night…yikes.”
Despite his triggering, offensive, misogynistic language, I responded. I told him that it was unfair of him to assume that there was something solid between us. I told him not to deny my sexuality and not to hold me to double standards. What he said back was this: “Stop bothering me you dumb whore.” I decided to just say nothing, to not give him the satisfaction of knowing just how much his texts had gotten to me. But I was so upset and angry. I felt disgusting, like a pile of trash, and I know that’s what he wanted me to feel like.
I have my theories why I felt this way. It has been a little over a year since I was pinned down and raped in my own bed. The “Jack-hammered your crotch” comment just sounded so violent, so rapey, that every time I think about it I am disgusted. My stomach literally clenches and I feel sick. The term whore made me feel low, like maybe I’m wrong for liking sex as much as men, maybe I am worthless, maybe I should be used for sex, maybe that’s all I’m good for. For the first time, I understood how much it hurts to be called a whore or a slut or a skank – whatever the term may be – or to have you sexuality questioned. Even after attending Slut Walks, being an active feminist, knowing about rape culture and understanding the effects of slut-shaming, I lost myself in the idea that maybe being a slut was a bad thing, that maybe I had been wrong all along. My entire belief structure had come into question because of one jerk.
Then I remembered the day I lost my virginity. The day I had sex for the first time, it was not to a guy who was my boyfriend. Some of you may call that slutty, but I knew that I wanted to have sex. At that moment, there was nothing more that I wanted, and when it happened, I regretted nothing. But I also remember thinking that no one would understand, that if I told, I’d be called a whore and a liar. And there was that word again: whore. The word that people use to control our sexuality, to dismiss us from sexual pleasure, to dismiss our claims of sexual assault, to dismiss our humanity.
We live in a country where tens of thousands of sexual assault cases are reported every year. And who really knows how many go unreported. I think this all goes back to the word “whore,” to the idea that women do not have sex for ourselves but for male attention, because we have low self esteem, because we have daddy issues, because we want to be popular, or because we’re just plain crazy.
It starts in our first health class. We learn that boys masturbate more than girls (or is it just that boys talk about it more because it is considered more socially acceptable for them to pleasure themselves?) In our high school health classes, we are told that the only way to be safe is to remain abstinent, that if we wait until marriage, sex will be so much better. We are taught about blow jobs, but the blessing that is cunnilingus is never mentioned. We learn about male ejaculation, not about female. Every day we are shown how cool Robert Downey Jr. is for remaining a swinger throughout his career, and on the same channel told that Miley Cyrus looks like a slut in her video.
As a gender we have been dismissed. Slut is not our word. It is the word of our oppressors. It is a word they use because the idea of female sexuality does not fit their conservative view points. But I’m going to fight that now. I’m going to say:
Dear Guy A, I love sex. I choose to love sex. I choose to have sex with whomever I want. I am great in bed and I am proud of that. I look amazing naked and yeah that makes me feel really confident and sexy. Sex is my choice. So if liking sex, and liking frequent sex, and liking experimenting with new partners makes me a slut in your mind, then so be it. I am a huge slut. And there is nothing wrong with that.