Heads up: This post mentions sexual assault.

1. Unorthodox
Unorthodox is a miniseries about a 19-year-old woman named Esty who leaves her ultra-Orthodox Jewish community in New York and moves to Berlin.

More than half of American Indian and Alaska Native women (56%) experience sexual assault. The vast majority (96%) are assaulted by a non-Native perpetrator. For centuries, colonizers / the US government have stripped Indigenous folks of power and resources — and continue to do so today. This disempowerment and exploitation makes Native folks especially vulnerable to sexual and relationship abuse (as well as poverty, health issues, pollution, and ongoing land insecurity).

In other words, the system is really fucked up and people are getting hurt. So, what can we do?

Heads up: This article talks about sexual assault.

“Your no makes way for your yes. Boundaries create the container within which your yes is authentic. Being able to say no makes your yes a choice.” 
- adrienne maree brown

The word no was not a part of my sexual vocabulary for years. After traumatic experiences during which my no was not respected or I was not given the opportunity to say no before my boundaries were crossed, I didn’t see the point in saying no. Why try to voice a no when it seemed like partners weren’t listening to or caring about my preferences anyways? Always saying yes seemed easier than facing the reality that my nos had not been valued before and could be stifled again.

Look, I’m not trying to romanticize this crap. Pain sucks. Sometimes, when it feels like I’ve been jinxed with the ability to pee sulfuric acid, or my clitoris is in no-chill, angry-like-the-Bride-in-Kill-Bill mode, I curse whatever vengeful deity is messing with my genitals.

But as much as I’d love to completely indulge in hyper-cynicism, I have to admit that dealing with pelvic pain has, in some ways, made my life better. And yes, that includes my sex life.
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I know. Bear with me.

mean Mike
guy we went to
high school with –
was he a friend of yours? –
tortures me

There is a new apparel company in Boston whose mission is to promote consent! They’re called Let’s Be Clear, and I asked the founder, Rachel Verner, a few prying questions. I don’t know about you, but whenever I find out about someone doing creative consent education in my city, I want to know more

By anonymous Pleasure Pie contributor

[Content warning]

I regularly see people proclaim that rape is not sex, and should not be called sex. As someone who has experienced rape, this feels unnecessarily limiting.

By anonymous Pleasure Pie contributor

[Content Warning]

I’ve always been a very polyamorous person, long before I knew the word for it. I feel like I tend to be very open-hearted, and very trusting. When I was in high school, I participated in a group trust fall exercise, and was about a thousand times better at trust falling than anyone else in the group, to the point that I sometimes fell before my partner was even ready to catch me (they did catch me though).

By anonymous Pleasure Pie contributor

​[Content warning]

I had a dream last night that I was raped by a neighbor when I visited his house. In the dream I was fifteen years old and he was in his late 30s or early 40s.

One survivor’s reflections:

Sometimes I try to imagine what it would be like to live in a body that wasn’t repeatedly touched, fondled, and/or used without my consent. My relationship to my body has been shaped by all these experiences of people touching me against my will, since I was a kid. 

When I was raped at age 23, it felt weirdly unsurprising and familiar because I had experienced so much non-consensual sexual touching in my life already.

I decided to make a map of my body that shows where people have touched me against my will.

Why do I want to share this with the world?

1. To say, “Hey! This is what sexual assault looks like (or can look like). Recognize it! Acknowledge it!”

2. To share what has happened to me as a part of my own healing process.

3. To bring attention to the complex, confusing, and deeply internalized ways that non-consensual touching can affect a person.
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I am trying to reclaim my body as my own – to unlearn all of the experiences that have taught me that my body exists for other people’s whims, and to proclaim that I am the ruler of my body – the only person who gets to decide what I do with it. I have bodily autonomy and I will not give it up!

One survivor’s thoughts after a rape. Names have been changed.

Dear James,

I’m writing you to share my feelings about our interactions in the past couple of weeks. Some of your actions have been hurtful to me, and I thought that maybe if I put my thoughts into writing, you might be able to see where I’m coming from.

When you came up to me for the first time in the market, I assumed that your interest in me was based on my body, including my whiteness. That was fine with me – my body is a part of who I am and I enjoy when people enjoy it. I wasn’t looking for anything serious, and I was totally cool with enjoying each other’s bodies, as long as I felt safe and my boundaries were respected. I had a lot of fun cuddling with you. I was really missing touching someone and being touched. You were very sexy and it felt good.

But I was clear about the fact that I wasn’t comfortable with kissing you or doing anything more than cuddling. I told you that crossing that line could ruin my relationship with my boyfriend, and how sad that would make me. I wasn’t sure whether or not you enjoyed cuddling without having sex, and I didn’t want us to be doing something that was only fun for me, so I asked you. You said you liked it.
I was excited to go to the bar with you, and I had a good time there. Your friends were nice and I had fun talking to them. I accidentally got drunk (I know it’s weird, but I’m sensitive to alcohol and two drinks is a lot for me) to the point where my eyes kept closing and I felt like I needed to lean against something to stay upright. I assume you noticed how drunk I was, because I’m not subtle. I also told you, “I’m really drunk; I’m trying to slow down.”

This was around the time that we went to the jungle gym and you kept trying to kiss me. I kept avoiding you, but I still liked being close to you, so I didn’t move away completely. Eventually, I was too slow and you caught my lips with yours. I didn’t kiss you back at first. I think I was making it pretty clear that I didn’t want to kiss you, by telling you and avoiding your kisses.

At your house, I repeatedly moved your hand away from my vagina while we were kissing and cuddling. At some point you started fingering me and I said, “No, no, stop, please don’t, let’s not do this, no” etc. until you stopped. I think you could see that I was upset by this, because when I tried to sleep on the couch, you asked me if I was okay. You eventually convinced me to come back to bed by promising over and over again that you wouldn’t go inside me again. I trusted you when you said this. Then you insisted that I let you rub your penis on my vagina. I told you that I wasn’t comfortable with that. I don’t understand why you didn’t care about whether or not I was comfortable with the things you wanted to do with my body.

You promised again that you wouldn’t go inside me. Eventually I let you rub yourself on me because I wanted you to fall asleep so I could be alone, since the situation was making me uncomfortable.
Your rubbed your penis against me for a little bit, and then started fucking me. Again I said, “No, no, I don’t want this, stop, let’s not do this, please stop” etc. You didn’t stop until you came.

I know that you didn’t use violence against me, you didn’t force me to go to your house, you didn’t hold me down. But you did completely disregard the fact that I didn’t want to have sex with you. You ignored me when I said no. If you have sex with someone when they say no, that is rape. It can be traumatic even if it isn’t violent.

I’m asking you to please be considerate of what a woman wants when you want to have sex with her. If she doesn’t want to, please stop there. Sex should be pleasurable for everyone involved. I feel violated and disrespected by the way you treated me.

I am only writing you to ask you to think about the way that you treated me, and whether or not that is how you want to treat women in the future. I am not interested in contacting the police or anything like that. I don’t trust the criminal justice system and I think it often makes people worse off. I’m leaving for the US tonight and you’ll never see me again. If there is anything you want to say to me, you can contact me at [email address].
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With hope,
Megan

As a teenager, I was really confused about the concept of a “tease.” I heard some of my male peers say, more or less, that teases were the worst and they hated them. I weeded out from their comments that the basic definition of a tease was a girl who fooled around with a guy, but didn’t have sex with him. Wait, did that mean I was a tease?

I would often have long, steamy make out sessions with whichever lucky guy was my boyfriend at any given moment (wink), and these make out sessions would never turn into sex. It wasn’t necessarily that I didn’t want to have sex with these guys, it was that they never initiated sex (and at the time I felt that, as a female, it wasn’t my place to initiate it). When I heard my guy friends lamenting the existence of “teases,” I started to worry that all this making out with no sex might make guys hate me (my worst nightmare as a boy-crazy teenage girl*).

To add to my confusion, the things I heard about sex weren’t lining up with what was happening in my own sexual experiences.

Here’s a brief sampling of the messages about sex I received from the media, adults, and peers (with commentary):

1. “Boys only want one thing.”
   Sex.
2. Why would he buy the cow when he can get the milk for free?”
   Because he only cares about having sex with you, not having a relationship with you.
3. “Guys think about sex every seven seconds.”
   My teenage self wondered: What does “thinking about sex” consist of? Is it imaging people having sex? Wondering if he would even enjoy sex? Feeling embarrassed over a recent sexual interaction?

 
If guys only care about sex, and don’t value relationships or foreplay, why weren’t my boyfriends trying to have sex with me**? They all seemed to be in less of a rush to get to sex than I was, and I was (according to what I had noticed people expected of me as a female) the one who was supposed to be in charge of withholding sex until an appropriate time.

But wait, doesn’t withholding sex make me a tease? And doesn’t having sex as soon as a guy wants to make me a slut? So many conflicting messages!

Let me set some things straight.

Guys care about more than just sex.

To my surprise, the guys I dated appeared to have feelings about sex other than Must Have Sex ASAP — feelings that probably included wanting to feel ready, caring about not making me uncomfortable, wanting to live up to their religious beliefs and family’s standards (which sometimes told them to wait until marriage), being nervous about how to initiate sex, how to know what I wanted, and how to have good sex, and even (get this!) enjoying our lengthy make out sessions. And those were just their feelings about sex. They also had all sorts of other feelings about all sorts of other things, unrelated to sex. They were at times sentimental, shy, creative, caring, romantic, anxious, etc. They wrote songs, loved their pets, tried to help me through my issues, cared about school, cared about our relationship — all the cares and concerns any multifaceted person might have.

These guys, while their brains might have been flooded with hormones and they might have been thinking about sex much of the time, also had real thoughts, feelings, and priorities other than “Must deflower girlfriend NOW.”

Guys don’t always want sex.

I know what you’re thinking: “But every sitcom I’ve ever watched has told me otherwise!” These sitcoms are exaggerating. While many men want to have sex frequently, many others prefer occasional sex or no sex at all. Even the men who crave sex frequently have plenty of moments when they’re, say, stressed about work, on the phone with their mom, or really into a good movie. I’ve tried to initiate sex in these moments. It was through being rejected that I learned that these moments of preferring not to have sex exist.

Girls and women sometimes do want sex.

Why else would lesbians have sex?

This also applies to straight and bi+ girls and women, many of whom want to have sex more often than their male partners do. It is perfectly okay for a person of any gender to want to have sex very frequently, or never at all.

Which brings me to my next point…

Not wanting to have sex is always okay.

While our culture teaches that sex is dirty and secret, it is also widely believed that a lack of desire for sex (especially in the context of a committed relationship) means that something’s wrong, either with the individual or with the relationship. This is often not the case! Many people’s sex drives naturally fluctuate. Many others prefer never to have sex. This doesn’t mean that they don’t experience love, intimacy, joy, satisfaction, relaxation, or any other emotion.

Gender roles and rape culture

Our culture teaches guys that they’re supposed to keep pushing to get as far as they can in any sexual encounter. We also teach girls and women that they’re supposed to say no a certain number of times before “giving in” to sex, because being hesitant makes you less “slutty.” Because of these teachings, when a girl/woman says no to sex with a guy:
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1. Guys don’t believe she really means it (as in “She’s probably just saying no to seem hard to get”).
2. Guys don’t respect it as a final answer (as in “I’m supposed to keep trying for sex even when she says no”).

And what happens when a guy is sexually assaulted? People’s responses tend to line up with the dominant cultural teachings about guys and sex:

1. “Guys can’t be sexually assaulted.” Because guys always want sex, right? No.
2. “It’s not assault if he has an erection.” Actually, an erection is not the same as consent. Consent is a decision. An erection is an involuntary physical reaction, like flinching when someone pokes you in the eye. The same goes for ejaculation.
3. If the perpetrator was a woman: “How did he not get away?” First of all, people of all genders can have various levels of strength and physical ability. Secondly, sexual assault may or may not include the use of physical force. Any sort of sexual activity without consent can be traumatic and should not be minimized. Also, many people freeze when faced with assault. Guys tend to be especially unprepared to escape a sexual assault because they are less likely than people of other genders to have ever considered that someone might try to sexually assault them.

What about when a woman is sexually assaulted by another woman? Again, cultural understandings of gender tend to add to this problem. Many people don’t take it as seriously as sexual assault perpetrated by a male because we’ve been taught that women don’t have the same capacity for violence and aggression as men do. This leads to many survivors not getting the support they need to address the emotional effects of the assault.

As a culture, our dominant messages about sex should include that:

1. A person of any gender can initiate sex.
2. A person of any gender can refuse sex — under any circumstances.
3. Sexual relationships don’t have to adhere to gender roles.
4. Sexual assault should always be taken seriously, regardless of the genders of people involved, and assault victims should always be offered support.

The psychological effects of gender roles

The simplistic and often unrealistic messages our society teaches about what to expect from girls/women and guys/men have clearly caused me a lot of unnecessary confusion, but the negative effects of this misinformation don’t end there. For instance, a rigid view of gender roles tends to go along with lower self esteem and prevents people from expressing themselves fully. Many people feel stuck expressing their gender in a way that fits with their gender role in order to gain approval from a partner, or from society in gen(d)eral. This leads to less sexual satisfaction in relationships and more sexual repression.

Transgender people and gender roles

While rejecting gender roles can be hard for anyone, it may be especially difficult for many transgender people who, already marginalized for their gender identity, are more likely to face harsh discrimination and even violence for challenging cultural norms. Though many trans people adhere to gender roles in their relationships, buying into the idea of gender roles tends to go along with higher levels of internalized transphobia. It isn’t uncommon for a trans person to feel afraid of talking with their partner about their trans identity, or to prefer sex in the dark so their bodies are less visible to their partners. If we, as a society, had a more fluid understanding of gender, less common gender expressions wouldn’t be seen as such a problem.

On “teases”

I wasn’t a “tease” for having dozens of make out sessions that didn’t end in sex. Why?
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1. Because everyone has the right to progress as slowly or quickly in their sexual interactions as they want to (with their partner’s consent).
2. Because it’s totally cool to do some sexual things and not others. And it’s totally not cool to complain about another person’s sexual boundaries, which is what the guys at my high school were doing by calling girls teases.
3. Because sexual expression is more than just intercourse.

The whole concept of a tease is unhelpful and often inaccurate. It’s tied to the male pushing, female withholding model of sexual progression, which can be harmful in heterosexual encounters and fails to acknowledge same sex encounters. The idea of a tease wouldn’t be so prevalent in a world where sexual activity is thought of as something people engage in and move forward with together for their mutual enjoyment.
 

*Not all teenage girls are boy-crazy, but I was.
**Shout out to all my teenage boyfriends, now in your mid 20s: Thanks for not getting me pregnant, xoxo.

This article was written by Nicole Mazzeo for Fabulously Feminist Magazine.