Regarding the sale of intact hymens

Thanks to Jen for sending this article my way. I've posted on virginity and I've posted on prostitution-- of course I'd find an article about a girl auctioning off her maidenhead to be of interest.

That said, there are several wonky things within the article itself. Let's start with the ridiculously uninformed interview between Natalie, the girl in question, and Tyra Banks embedded within. OK, I know Tyra's audience is primarily composed of the little sisters of Oprah's audience members. By and large, it's clear that the show makes the inference that they are mostly ignorant of the sex work trade, so I have minimal qualms making the same assumption. In other words, it's not surprising that Tyra's audience acquires a collective look of slack-jawed horror at the merest whiff of something that suggests hookerdom... such as selling one's virginity to the highest bidder. The idea that selling sex could be something other than utterly morally reprehensible is a wholly foreign notion to those sweet white girls. I take that for granted.

But god, Tyra's questions! They all sound like tiresome school-girl gossiping. But Natalie! What if he's, you know, icky? What if he wants you to give him a beeeee-jay? What if he wants to see your butthole? Or show you his? The girl's 22 years old, for heaven's sake. What Tyra's audience will learn about sex or feminism or Natalie herself or anything else from such an insipid, infantalizing line of inquiry, I'm not real sure.

But then the article quotes Jezebel: "So does this make Natalie the first official virgin/whore?" Now, to me, this is a truly hilarious question. The first official virgin/whore? Aren't these Jezebel writers supposed to know a thing or two about sexual politics? Honestly. The history of prostitution is fraught with the auctioning off of girls' hymens. The entirety of the geisha culture was built upon ceremonial deflowerings-- bought by only the wealthiest of men. And up until the last few decades, marriages were not much more than glorified exchanges of goods: unsullied pussy for farm animals, plots of land, cold hard cash-- you name it. I'll name it, for ease of reference, "dowry." It's certainly not like this Natalie girl coined some new idea under the sun-- that's for sure. True, it might be slightly more rare that Natalie herself will profit from this transaction, as historically the recipient of the payoff for virginity has not been the woman herself, but rather, her daddy, her pimp, her madame, her household--whatever. But even at that, she's hardly the first girl to get dollar signs in her eyes when she first held a hand mirror between her legs.

Ultimately, however, so what if the article and its accoutrements are generally uninformed? A badly written article doesn't make the source story less baffling. The truth is, the article says that Natalie's highest bids are topping $3.5 million. Just last month, I posted this Voltaire quotation: "It is one of the superstitions of the human mind to have imagined that virginity could be a virtue." For my money, virginity seems like a real disadvantage. Sexual skill and experience are incredibly valuable assets for both men and women who seek to have fulfilling sex and relational lives. And yet, apparently there are still scads of bozos out there who think that what is bound to be Natalie's ignorant fumbling is not just worth something, but it's worth $3.5 million. Lunacy!

Wait, no... there must be more to it. Please! Someone! Sign me up for bad, clueless sex with a virgin. And please don't let the bad, clueless virgin sex be free! God forbid.

Yeah, does that sound as stupid to you as it does to me?

And then there's poor Natalie herself. Toiling away on her potential master's thesis on "the dichotomous relationship between virgins and whores." As if this topic hadn't been the written into the ground by every newly feministic college fresh(wo)man who ever lived. But poor Natalie is pursuing her Master's in marriage and family counseling. Yeah, that's right. A virgin wants to coach you through the rough spots in your marriage. A virgin wants you to put all your trust in her that she will lead you through the dark and foggy path of sexual discord within your long-term romantic relationship. Given, assuming the highest bidder has his way with her before her degree is complete, she'll no longer be quite so ill-equipped. But nonetheless? If I ever find myself in dire need of help in the boudoir, I want the sluttiest girl (or boy) available to help me out of my rough spot. Or maybe more precisely, to help me find my rough spot.

Above and beyond all this, though, the article poses the question as to whether or not putting your pussy on eBay conflicts with either general morality or feminist thought. Now, I think I can summarily dismiss the morality question, as I've stated a million times on this blog that I cannot fathom how consensual sex and morality are even related. Morality doesn't even come into play here as it doesn't seem like anyone's rights are being infringed upon. The feminism question, however, is a little dicier for me. On one hand, I heartily resent anything that perpuates putting valuation on something so meaningless as a grown woman's virginity. I can't, for my life, see how this does any favors for any of us. On the other hand, I heartily endorse any woman's decision-making process with regard to her own cunt. It's hers. If she wants to smack a price sticker on it, that's her right. I don't feel comfortable expressing any opinion that would oppose her. And to that end, I suppose I come out siding with the latter hand.

Of course, that doesn't mean that I don't secretly hope she fucks somebody else, say, the night before her date with Mr. Moneybritches, just to make a statement that would undermine the whole money-for-hymen dynamic completely. That would be sweet.

What other people have said about the (dubious?) marital project

"It is one of the superstitions of the human mind to have imagined that virginity could be a virtue."

—Voltaire

via The Ch!cktionary

It continues to baffle me that traditional wifery might be the only job for which an applicant's utter ignorance of one of its primary duties has historically been considered her chief, and most desirable, qualification.

"...Marie returns to seduce the reluctant Paul and squeezes just enough sperm from their half-hearted encounter to become impregnated, or, in Breillat's extrapolationist thesis, wholly alive. Pauls slumbers on when her water breaks. In a cool rage, Marie turns on the gas and leaves the apartment to give birth to their child. The final scene shows Marie in a ritualistic procession holding the newborn aloft. Dolly the Cloned Sheep was already 3 at the time of the movie's release and the transgender queer movement raged on American campuses. Still, it's interesting to note just how appealing this ancient narrative is to a great number of upper-middle class women in their 20s and 30s who've revived the traditional wedding ceremonies with a vengeance. If a wedding is "the most important day in a woman's life" (Bride magazine) it is because it serves as an affirmation of her as a woman. Perhaps accurately, now that the culture has only inertia to offer, this generation perceives marriage and its ensuing spawn of the nuclear family as the only achievable utopia."
--Chris Kraus, describing Catherine Breillat's film, Romance, in his essay introducing the novel Pornocracy, the companion piece to Breillat's other film, Anatomy of Hell.

I watched Anatomy of Hell some time ago and it irked me. It explores an old fundamentalist (meaning, not "fundamentalist" in the sense of fundie-Christian, but in a sense far closer to essentialism) notion that what is inherently problematic about female existence is that the "abyss of cunt" is necessarily horrific. And it predicates an inborn fragility in the female as well. Now, that's an interesting idea with which the "auteur of porno" might toy, but Breillat is simply employing the idea to inquire as to whether the essential vulnerable nature of women is designed to inspire tenderness in men, thus drawing the sexes together. Now, I tend to think she's using this very ancient thesis about the nature of woman to pose an argument-- to force her audience to ask again, in a contemporary, post-feminist context, whether there might be something to the concept-- the one that, to me anyway, seems to do a real good job of putting us girls at a real disadvantage-- after all.

But, c'mon! Cunts are dark, slimy pits of terror? And the female condition is, by default, one of weakness? Really? Is this really a discussion that is actually still relevant in 21st Century Western culture?

In any case, I've just started reading Pornocracy and I might well come to understand Anatomy of Hell a little better by the end of it. I may or may not have more to say about it when I'm finished. We'll see.

In the meantime, though, I'm fascinated by Kraus' comment that marriage and the nuclear family just might be the modern woman's last finger-stretching grasp towards a micro-utopia, thus explaining the great wedding fervor of our times. Personally, I think he's making a cute little connection with little to no basis in actual reality. The Oprah crowd and the over-therapized masses regularly raise the chant, "But marriage takes WORK!" Young women enter into marriages having seen at least a couple of their peers establish life-- and even happiness--after divorce. And so many of us have pre-marriage long-term relationships in our early 20s-- difficult, experimenting-with-adulthood, long-term relationships.

So, even if we claim to be holding out for the loves of our lives, deep down, we have already learned that love doesn't eradicate the fucked-upedness and baggage that any adult entering into such an arrangement with another fucked up, baggage-laden adult is bound to pull behind him- or herself. And every day, more and more of us fight off the urge to hide under the covers when faced with the all-too-apparent discrepancy between white wedding photos and Planet Couples Therapy.

But is getting all entwined in the solipsistic endeavor of the Bride Show still preferable to the "inertia" that Kraus claims our culture holds out to us? It can only be a brief distraction, and not much more, I'm afraid. No matter what, ladies, we've still got bigger fish to fry than invitation fonts and seating charts. I mean, what if our pussies really are just so many little mouths of hell, clapped shut, safely for the moment, between our thighs? Or worse, what if there are folks out there who still actually think that? Surely we collectively still have bigger hopes for our world than the small consolation of the domestic marinade?

***

I know I've been terribly lax in writing lately. I've been busy. I've been reading. I've been exhausted. I've been traveling. I've been perched on the edge of my usual wintry sinkhole. I've been social. I've had a holiday and a birthday. I haven't had a Saturday at home in a month, and tomorrow will be no different.

But I miss this conversation with the ether. Maybe some time soon. Soon.