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To fuck or not
to fuck? That, indeed, is the question.
We moderns
pride ourselves in our liberation, believing that we have moved beyond (and
implicitly above) the strictures of the past. We like to think that we are the
Renaissance, and all that came before us was the Dark Ages. Perhaps every
generation holds that view, which has become part of the cultural ethos that
there is something called Progress (with a capital "P") that moves
ever onward and upward, striding ever closer toward perfection. And we, of
course, have seen the truth of the future and scorn the darkness of the past.
We, of course, are the chosen ones. In all of history, only we have come close
to the Holy Grail: close enough to convince ourselves that we have touched the
golden chalice and are thrice blessed.
So, let's fuck.
That is our
generation's way of claiming liberation from the primness and prissiness of our
grandparents. That is how we claim to throw off the shackles of chauvinism, and
break through the prison of sin and guilt. That is how we assert the right of
our own body, and the right to pleasure.
Let's fuck.
Yet, I cannot
help but wonder if our language has created a prison of its own. Does
"let's fuck" free us or enslave us? Are we liberated by our language,
or have we merely created a new Inquisition within our own psyches? Do we make
the language, or does the language make us?
First there is
the matter of sound. In natural language, a word sounds like it's meaning. Take
"growl," for example. "Growl" sounds like a growl. And
"fuck" sounds like...something hard, something cold, something
bestial, something predatory. It is an aggressive word, a "Type A"
word, a word to invade space and assert dominance.
"I want to
fuck you" implies a fucker and a fuckee. It means that I want to fuck you
flat. It says that I want to fuck you until you beg me to stop. It's a power
trip. It means that I want to take physical control of another person in a sort
of genital headlock and force submission by wresting an orgasm from his or her
body. Although the word "fuck" at first appears to be without gender,
its implicit meaning reminds me a
lot of the definition of maleness (domination, control, force, power)
promulgated in inbred circles of academic feminists. I find it more than a
little ironic when women say they want to fuck someone. It always sounds to me
like they are emulating -- if not enshrining -- the supposedly male traits they
claim to despise. It is equally revealing that women almost never say, in public
at least, "I want to be fucked." In this sense, it seems that our use
of language has held us firmly in the grip of sexism by framing sexuality in
supposedly male terms. (I say “supposedly male” because, as a man, I have
never actually felt what the academic feminists tell me I feel.)
In private,
however, women have been known to say, "Fuck me." That is something
men almost never say. There is a strong implication of man as aggressor,
thrusting penis, and all, and woman as the yielding receptor who is taken (Taken
captive? Taken prisoner? Taken control of?
Taken beyond the realm of choice and responsibility and into a “zipless
fuck”?). A Dixie Chicks song comes to mind: "Cowboy, take me
away...." Actually, I rather like that song, as long as I don't think too
much about it. If I think about it, I can't help but get vibes of a sanitized
version of a caveman and a club. It also is revealing to try to digest that line
with one word change: "Cowgirl, take me away." I don't think that
would make an especially effective pick-up line in a bar. “Cowperson”
wouldn’t work either as a linguistic passport to short-term ecstacy.
"Let's
fuck" is a nicer expression, in that it says that each of us is both fucker
and fuckee. There is a comforting sense of mutuality that fits well with our
cultural definition of gender parity. "Let's" is a nice word. But,
"fuck" is "fuck."
Let's look
again at the sound of the word, "fuck." Pretend for a moment that you
can't speak English, and just listen to the sounds of these words: fuck, shit,
cock, piss, cunt, snot, dick, puke. The similarity in sound is rather striking,
in that the sexual words sound exactly like the words for rather unpleasant (if
not unspeakable) bodily wastes. Could those sounds lead us toward understanding
a Freudian slip of monumental proportions? Although we claim liberation and
health, the sounds of those commonly accepted sexual words lend themselves more
readily to a nun with a ruler, or a tv preacher thumping a Bible, than to the
free spirits of Margaret Sanger, Henry Miller or Emma Goldman. Are we really
more liberated when our words to describe sex sound like something to be
crumpled in bathroom tissue and flushed down the toilet? The sounds of sexual
words show clearly that we are still living under the twin demons of guilt and
sin, and that the more we try to assert ourselves rebelliously (yes, saying
"fuck" is a sort of rebellion against the “nice” boy or girl we
were told to be as children), the more we actually show our enslavement to
Catholic and Fundamentalist conceptions of the physical nature of humans. In
that light, "Let's Fuck" translates into "Let's sin," and it
all boils down to the Judeo-Christian belief that humans are inherently sinful,
if not evil.
Many people
equate eroticism with a feeling of being deliciously sinful, and find it
arousing to cage their angels and unleash their devils -- getting their rocks
off by raiding the cookie jar. This is not a bad thing, when done in the spirit
of play and laughter at the contradictions within one's self. Laughter is a
wonderful antidote for being not quite a perfect human being. But it also must
be understood that the very idea of personal angels and devils perpetuates the
split between the different aspects of self -- mind, body, spirit, emotions --
and inevitably leads to the view that evil is the natural state of humans. Such
splits ultimately mean that one part of a person is at war with another part of
her- or himself. It is my belief that war is inherently destructive, be it
between armies on a battlefield, or
within the realm of the human psyche.
The language of
sex often tends to be such a battlefield. Think of the expressions we use:
"Fuck you," "get fucked," "you cunt," " you
prick," "you pussy,"
" you dickhead." They all boil down to the language of sex being used
as a weapon, or an insult. As such, they point rather to a war raging in the
psyche of the speaker. They show a profound lack of acceptance, respect and
regard for one's own sexuality, and also for the sexuality of
his or her partner. It is no accident that "let's fuck" and
"fuck you" are based on the same key word. The subconscious certainly
is a slippery little devil.
Then there is
the matter of cunts and cocks. They are not exactly warm and cuddly words. A
cunt implies something foul, rank, smelly, dirty and nasty. If someone calls a
woman a cunt, it means just that. A cock connotes aggression, penetration,
invading space, brutality, insensitivity, taking and using. That is what it
means when someone calls another person a prick. The similarities in language
are not accidental.
Thus, I say,
let's not fuck. Keep your cunt to yourself, if you must call it that, and I will
not assault you with my cock, if that is what you insist on calling it.
I would like to
suggest what might be called the child test as a measure of the health of one's
own sexual language. If you are a woman with children, for example, can you tell
your best friend that you dream of the day your daughter will get fucked? Most
likely, the idea is utterly blasphemous to you. Why, then,
isn't it blasphemous when applied to yourself? If something seems right
for you, but wrong for your daughter when you think of her reaching adulthood,
perhaps it really isn't right for you. Perhaps you are really saying that you,
as a woman, want to be controlled and degraded, or taken captive, or perhaps
punished for your inherent sinfulness. If you are a man who likes to tell women
to "suck my cock," for instance, then you shouldn't be outraged to
come upon your teen-aged daughter performing fellatio on her boyfriend. If the
roles were reversed and you were the boyfriend, you'd love it. Perhaps what you
are really saying is that you don't respect women who give head, but you do
enjoy debasing those women and using sex as a weapon to do it. Buddy, I'd say
you have a problem that goes far beyond linguistic incompetence.
Alas, there are
few alternatives to our crude and guilt-laden vocabulary. "Let's have
sex" is a rather sterile and neutral way to describe an act that is the
diametric opposite of sterility or neutrality. "Making love" can sound
a bit quaint, and is hard to apply to a financial transaction in a massage
parlor. Some have tried to substitute "fucking with love," but fucking
remains fucking and I always found this phrase to be somewhat tenuous on a first
date. "Let's have coitus" doesn't quite cut it, either. That
definitely would be an interruptus of
eros. “Sexual intercourse” sounds like it should be done only while wearing
rubber gloves, with a can of Lysol on the bedside table. I recall an
anthropology professor who applied the word "humping" to both apes and
tribal people, although I would see it more as the best possible way to get a
door slammed in your face if you applied it to your peers.
Are we left
with Pamela's overheated admonition to Mr. B: "Expostulate later, if you
must expostulate"? Believe me, that was the high point in one of the
earliest novels to be published in English. The rest of it was downright corny.
In truth, there
is no word in the English language to adequately describe the utterly human act
of participating in a sexual
relationship as one human being with another.
Some people
(notably writers and poets) have tried to find other words to free the language
of eros from the Judeo-Christian view of sin and evil. Erica Jong and Henry
Miller, for example, tried to substitute "quim" for "cunt."
"Quim" has a nice feel to it -- rather tangy, salty and flavorful --
much like breathing the air by the seashore. But it never caught on.
We are left
with linguistic perdition and hellfire raging through our psyches.
Before looking
at the meaning of language, perhaps we should try to understand what we really
mean by sex. This is the true forbidden ground of modern sexuality. We are all
supposed to know by osmosis what we mean sexually, but we are never,
never, never supposed to actually say it. It is our version of having the stage
lights fade out when the actor and actress kiss deeply. You know what will
happen next. Don't you? As liberated as we might like to claim, sexuality
remains, for us, terra incognita. The unknown...the unspeakable...the territory where
we dare not venture without a shield of culturally plated armor.
To speak openly
and honestly about sexuality is to expose one's self to almost total
vulnerability. Because sex is not something that is talked about honestly, we
have no idea if our real and actual feelings are "acceptable," or if
they expose us as being a freak. It's safe to say, "Let's fuck." It is
not safe to say that I want to give you my heart and soul, that I want to give
you the very best of myself.
For me to say
exactly who I am sexually, and what I want a sexual relationship to be, is to
say (in bold neon lights): "I am." It is to say that I exist, I am
myself, and I am worthy. I am worthy in my own right, and I am worthy of you...I
am worthy of your body, and I am worthy of your soul. It is to say that I am a
gift to you, and you are a gift to me.
To do that
takes one Hell of a healthy ego.
And we are back
to Judeo-Christianity yet again. Our culture's predominate religious tradition
sees people as profoundly unworthy, as sinners fallen from grace, as weak and
helpless creatures being relentlessly tempted and assailed by omnipresent evil.
Despite the rhetoric, that is the real message of Judeo-Christianity. It's not
fashionable to say it any more (except in certain Fundamentalist churches), but
we all know it down deep to be true. We have been enculturated quite well, thank
you.
Our
psychologists, psychiatrists and philosophers reaffirm that worldview. Starting
with Freud and his raging ("let's fuck") id fighting subconsciously
with a cold (nun with ruler) superego, psychology has done its part to deny us
the ability to say, "I am. I am worthy. I am good. I am whole."
Behaviorism is the predominant school of contemporary psychology, and has a
virtual stranglehold on academia and all publicly funded mental health,
counseling and therapeutic services in America. Behaviorism is essentially a
philosophy with an underpinning of mechanistic science. Rhetoric aside, it sees
human beings as a collection of wants and desires that are subject to
conditioning (programming) by society and the environment. Individuality simply
is a recognizable collection of programming -- values are learned behaviors.
Right and wrong are defined solely in term of societal norms. Breaking the rules
simply means that your conditioning has been faulty and needs to be
reprogrammed. Emotions are just passing feelings, beliefs are just "your
opinion," and all opinions are relative, and decisions simply are a matter
of how best to fit into the norm. It all boils down to behavior: how you act,
and definitely not how you think, feel or believe. Behaviorism thus evades all
question of ethics, values and spirituality -- these are merely conditioned
responses that are wholly relative. "Let's fuck" fits right in with
the philosophy of behaviorism. "I want...I play by the rules and sex is the
reward I seek...who I think I am inside is just an illusion...it feels
good...let's fuck."
Call B.F.
Skinner the last of the red hot lovers. Pavlov's dog hits the lever and, instead
of a food biscuit, gets pussy or cock. Yum.
The goal of
psychology seems to be to turn us all into happy cripples on Prozac. Sexuality
has nothing at all to do with happy cripples on Prozac. It has everything to do
with "I am."
I
am!
Perhaps the
most radical single line in in Western literature was the title of one of Walt
Whitman's poems: "Of myself I sing." Sexuality is, first and foremost,
a song of one's self: a song of celebration! "I sing myself, I celebrate
myself," Whitman wrote, and, in another poem, he sang of "the body
electric." Sounds nicely poetic, doesn't it? Well, instead of asking your
partner to fuck, perhaps you should say, "Let's sing."
Did you just
snort a laugh? I bet you did.
But think about
it. "Let's sing" is a very appropriate invocation to sex -- or,
"let's celebrate ourselves."
And, if you
really want to take a deep breath, try: "Let's pray." I think that
even a rational atheist would have to agree that sexuality, at its highest
expression, is a prayer of thankful celebration to the universe, to the beauty
of life itself.
That, however,
begs the question of what one should say in a massage parlor? Ask Miss. Manners.
Better yet, ask Karl Marx, who talked about the objectification of people. In
modern, materialistic society, Marx wrote, humans are seen as objects to be used
and manipulated for personal gain, or in order to exert power for the sake of
power. They are thus stripped of their humanity. Is a hooker a human being to a
john? Is a john a human being to a hooker? The hooker sees the john as a source
of money (and sometimes for the feeling of being in control), and the john sees
an anonymous illusion of sex that really is nothing more than veiled
masturbation or a way to act out dark fantasies that he never would think of
doing with someone perceived as a real person. For male masturbation, a slab of
warm greased beef liver works better and cheaper. Nuke for 20 seconds in the
microwave. Serve warm.
Massage parlors
have absolutely nothing to do with sexuality (except as a reflection of the
sexual state of the nation). Sexuality is about one person giving her- or
himself to another person. It is about asserting self, celebrating self,
celebrating life, valuing self, sharing self on all levels and, it could be
said, transcending self into a union with all life, into a union with the
cosmos. Of course, sex also feels wonderful, but this feeling goes very far
beyond any purely physical feeling, and combines with emotion, spirit and
personal meaning to have the potential to transport lovers into the realm of
pure ecstasy
We need to
reinvent the language to express those kinds of concepts. Instead of being
enslaved to fucking and getting fucked, or doing the nasty (grunt, grunt, grunt
with a hip hop beat), our language should liberate us by opening up the entire
cosmos to the realm of human consciousness. It is up to the artist -- the
painter, the poet, the musician, the sculptor, the composer, the writer of
fictions -- to lead the way into the reinvention of language, and ultimately
into the reinvention of the human psyche and the discovery of a joyous path into
the realm of the sacred.
Walt Whitman
did it more than a century ago, and Sappho did it many centuries before Whitman.
Like every generation, however, we have forgotten.
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