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(12/02/10 5:01am)
This past week, Middlebury joined Williams and Bowdoin as the third NESCAC institution to enact gender-neutral housing legislation. Starting in Fall 2011, any sophomore, junior or senior will be allowed to live with whomever they choose, regardless of either party’s gender. While College policy already allowed suites and bathrooms to be mixed-gendered, the recently approved proposal expands the policy to include doubles and connected singles. The proposal received unanimous support from the SGA and was approved at the Nov. 22 Community Council meeting, also by a unanimous vote.
While some students might cite the potential conflict that could arise between members of the opposite sex sharing the same living space, and parents might be uneasy about the prospect of their child being forced to live with a student of a different gender, it is important to remember that only students who specifically request a mixed-gendered room will be placed in one. This is an important step toward breaking down the heteronormative attitudes that exist under the surface of our institution and society at large, and achieves the more direct goal of providing a comfortable living situation for every member of our community.
Besides the gender-neutral housing proposal, Community Council also heard, and tabled, a proposal to form an official Gender Council, which would address all issues of gender on campus, report directly to the Presidential Council and have policy-making power. While we are pleased to see that gender issues, often the most pervasive, subtle and overlooked, are receiving the attention that they clearly deserve, we question whether the addition of more red tape is the appropriate way to bring these issues to light at Middlebury.
Giving any committee policy-making power should be a carefully considered and meaningful decision — in this case, we are not sure that the goals of the would-be Gender Council necessitate an autonomous council. After all, the issue of gender-neutral housing was addressed fully and efficiently by the Community Council — it was only last spring that this proposal began taking shape. While subtle instances of sexism can often be the most harmful, they are also uniquely resistant to sweeping policy changes. Thus, we question whether a policy-making committee is the best solution to the problem of sexism at Middlebury.
Closely examining gender dynamics at Middlebury is fascinating, at times horrifying and almost universally undervalued as a legitimate source of frustration and outrage from all sexes. Such examination is also performed far too infrequently, and often takes a backseat to issues of racial diversity and discrimination. We are excited that gender-neutral housing has been approved, and by no means are we attempting to keep gender issues on the back burner by suggesting that a Gender Council would be excessive. Rather, we would simply like to see the cause of gender equality taken up more fully in the actions of already existing councils and committees, such as the Sexual Assault Oversight Committee, or the Institutional Diversity Committee. We feel that the goal of gender equality would be better served by a universal increase in watchfulness and consciousness of the issue, rather than by a single policy-making committee.
(11/18/10 5:15am)
Whether we like it or not, winter is coming: Vermont’s sub-artic, snow-covered, frostbitten, I-don’t-want-to-leave my-warm-bed-ever-again winter. And yes, the same chilled air that quashes many a well-intentioned Friday night trip to the bar also forces us to drown ourselves in squishy down-feathered jackets ala the Michelin man and trade in our favorite ballet flats for Uggs and Sorels. But just when East Coast weather may seem the arch-nemesis of style, I offer you hope!
Let’s travel back to a time before North Face, Patagonia and Burton had perfected the fine scientific art of heat-trapping fabrics, water resistance and general fluffiness — people worked, lived, traveled in all sorts of inclement weather with the fine art of? Layering. Just because it’s cold out doesn’t mean that you have to be a slave to the your one winter coat — people survived harsh winters for centuries before North Face.
Now, what I propose isn’t a burning of the ski jacket, instead it’s the expansion of options. One day we’ll leave this place and make some sort of attempt at being grown ups, people with jobs and meetings and consequently, some sort of occupationally constructed attire. Now assuming you don’t work in the middle of the woods, a bold assumption for here I’m aware, a ski coat won’t always cut it: you need one good coat.
This is the coat your mom bought you to go see the Nutcracker. It’s black, maybe navy, it matches with everything, it’s big enough to fit a sweater under (but not so bulky it makes you look like you’re part of a tower of little rascals in disguise) and most importantly, it doesn’t limit you: you can go anywhere in this coat and not feel like some college kid who fell off the ski lift.
So let’s get specific. Pea coats, for both sexes, are always in style. They’re simple and old school without seeming old. In general men under thirty should avoid wearing coats that go below the torso, and girls should stick to lengths above the knee… unless we want to look like grandma. As for color? The more basic the better, but make sure its seasonally dark, nothing’s more out of place than pastel floral patterns in the middle of January. Trench coats are always better on women (unless you’re going for the “Spy vs. Spy” look) and should come in at the waist to avoid looking boxy.
If you want to get a little more creative, plaid lumberjack coats and leather jackets well layered underneath are always cool. Fur, fake or real, is always risky choice, but take it from me, if you can pull it off you’ll be toasty warm.
Now what allows us more options for on top is indeed what goes underneath. We already utilize Hot UnderArmour Chilis and spandex for our active-activities, so why not just for the hell of it — perhaps even in the name of fashion itself!? There is a reason your great Aunt Betty has knit you 13 sweaters over the past 20 years: they’re warm. So if you’re not feeling her reindeer wool go find some non-itchy, super-soft cardigans and quirky sweatshirts that DON’T have a college’s name on them pick something fun or personal, the more unique the better. Dorky knit sweaters from the Salvation Army can be gold; the so-ugly-it’s-cool category still exists people, and not just for hipsters.
So end your co-dependent relationship with your ski jacket. Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
(11/18/10 4:59am)
Last fall I had the tremendous benefit of arriving on this campus and beginning my Middlebury journey in the classroom of Visiting Assistant Professor of Education Studies Tara Affolter. I was immediately challenged in numerous ways to critically analyze the complexities of systems of oppression and seriously investigate how education can serve as a tool to disrupt those oppressions. Affolter created a respectful learning environment in which the investigation of ‘privilege’ could honestly be pursued. In many ways, the class grew from being confronted with the discomfort of recognizing that none of us were normal, even if as a result of others being silenced we were led to believe so. Through being provoked to gain awareness of how each of our stories were simply one among many, we were able to validate everyone’s lived experiences and ensure that there was room carved out for each of us to learn from the ways in which we are situated in the world. Affolter’s actions epitomize an inclusive classroom, something for which all of our professors must strive.
Since Affolter’s visiting status indicates that she is to leave come the end of the academic year, I am writing on behalf of the Institutional Diversity Committee to demonstrate our firm conviction that keeping Affolter is imperative to Middlebury College’s diversity efforts. During her time here she has been an invaluable asset and resource affecting countless students in immeasurable ways. In the classroom she makes sure that she fairly addresses all students of every race, gender, sex, sexuality, ability, class and any other form of identity that is too often marginalized in the classroom. Outside of the classroom Affolter is a tremendous and dependable strength of support for many students and the various difficulties they have engaging in the College environment.
Affolter’s research efforts and work with the Center for the Comparative Study of Race and Ethnicity directly address difficult issues and specific ways in which our campus may appropriately deal with them. Her unrelenting passion for mindfully addressing diversity through anti-racist action and inclusive classrooms provide a precious asset to this campus. Her absence would leave a tremendous hole. The Institutional Diversity Committee advises that it is essential to retain faculty, especially Affolter, who have taken a lead in fostering a diverse community embodied by an atmosphere of respect.
Affolter’s contagious character brings excitement to the notion that we as aspiring teachers will carry a mark of her passion forever with us that will positively affect generations to come. Regardless of whether we seek licensure to formally teach in a classroom or we pursue any other path in life, as a result of her impact we will remain critical teachers and lively learners committed to social justice in all that we do. To say that Affolter has changed my life in drastic ways for the better is an understatement. The other members of the student body, who have been fortunate enough to engage in one of her classes, be supported by her outside of the classroom or know a friend who has been touched by her in many ways, could not agree more.
I invite everyone to please read through and contribute to the numerous passionate comments and signatures at go/keepaffolter (blogs.middlebury.edu/keepaffolter) which serve as testament to the student body’s support of this decision to keep Affolter as a vital component of the College. There are many powerful stories already posted and the more we collect the greater strength our voices will carry. Together we will be heard. As we strive to make this campus exhibit excellence in dealing with serious diversity issues, it is an absolute must that we go to whatever length necessary to keep Affolter.
Jay Saper ’13 is from East Lansing, Mich.
(11/11/10 5:20am)
Ladies and gentlemen, meet Terius Nash. Terius, aka The-Dream, enjoys pursuing women, “Patrónin’” and informing you of his sexual and financial prowess. Oh, and he also has a knack for penning immaculately produced, ludicrously infectious R&B masterpieces. Remember the last time you stumbled over a song that you then proceeded to hum incessantly for the next month and a half? Odds are it was written by The-Dream. In 2007, he produced Rihanna’s ubiquitous “Umbrella”, only to follow up in 2008 with Beyonce’s megahit, “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)”. The man’s a veritable hit factory, turning out sweet pieces of audio candy as deliciously intoxicating as his beloved Patrón.
And now he’s back with the third installment of his love-themed trilogy: 2010’s not-so-modestly-titled Love King. Despite his promotion of the album as “deeper than space” (yes, that’s a real quote), The-Dream rarely strays from the unrelenting self-mythologizing and elegant flippancy characteristic of his previous albums. Of course, the arrogance could have backfired if not layered over a gorgeous tapestry of interwoven hooks, seamless transitions and contemporary renovations of traditional R&B tropes. His lush, sensual productions demonstrate an obsessive consideration of detail (every snap, snare and stutter finds a precise and indispensable home) while, on a more comprehensive scale, the album maintains a cohesive, suite-like flow, as songs fluidly morph into their successors. Turns out, he might have something to brag about after all.
Exhibit A: the opening track, “Love King” with its staccato piano chords and synthy sweeps, becomes the digital approximation of a schoolyard jump-rope song. But don’t let the song’s glossy sheen and not-so-subtle lyrics about cheating (“Got girls with weave, girls without it. She like, ‘This all mine’, hmm, I doubt it”) fool you. The-Dream presents a richly complex landscape of luxurious synths, cascading bleeps and celestial “ooh’s” and “ahh’s”. Just go ahead and try to count the number of distinct sounds and tones throughout the chorus. And on the album’s crown jewel, the Prince-inspired “Yamaha” The-Dream serves up a massive rush of glittery, stripped-down, 80’s synth-pop. But despite such extravagant ornamentation, which, under a lesser producer, would result in sheer cacophony, The-Dream ensures that no individual element overwhelms another.
Unfortunately, however, The-Dream’s lyrical dexterity pales in comparison to his adroit sonic manipulations. “You can’t match a love like mine. It’s like trying to rob me with a BB gun. But my love gets it poppin’ like the Taliban” he croons over a swirl of droning synths on the slow-grinding “Sex Intelligent.” Yeah, I was confused too. I’m pretty sure it was just a failed attempt to mix sexual innuendo with political relevancy. On “Florida University”, The-Dream’s childlike response to his Twitter-bashing ex (and probably the first track of every current party-playlist at UF and FSU), he mutters, “This is short for Florida University” following with a rousing chorus of “Eff You!” Clever, Terius. Despite some lyrical shortcomings, the extravagant braggadocio and declarations of rampant infidelity occasionally succeed. After a long night on the town, he intimates, “Chanel No. 5 is all on my shirt, but I ain’t even holler. She pressin’ me out wit’ nothin’ but her panties on.” How can you not feel bad for him?
Ultimately, with the exception of “Panties to the Side” this album serves as a breathtaking examination of both contemporary and traditional R&B concepts. From the exquisite horn flourishes of the glistening “F.I.L.A” to the suggestive echoes of the falsetto-drenched window-fogger “Turnt Out”, Love King has cemented The-Dream’s position as the new face of R&B. And although he has previously declared this album to be his final solo project, we can always hope, for R&B’s sake, that he holds true to his promise from “Sex Intelligent (Remix)”: “6-7-2011, Imma drop that Love Affair.”
(11/11/10 4:59am)
Trying SM for the first time is a lot like visiting the parents of your significant other for the first time—probably awkward, possibly painful, and with a decent chance that you’ll be spending a lot of time on your knees. Often seen as the province of those unusually into leather, latex, and improperly-used cooking products, SM (short for Sadomasochism) is actually not the accessories often associated with it or even, necessarily, with the infliction of pain. At its heart, SM is nothing more or less than a negotiated—and usually sexual—encounter where the boundaries of power are clearly defined.
Depending on the point of view, this is both more and less scary than simply being tied to a bed and spanked—while there might be powerplay, far more important is the ability to believe in it. Properly engaging in an SM “scene” requires a level of trust and knowledge of your partner that is often beyond the land of one-night-stands (it should probably go without saying that, like accepting candy or car rides, one should probably not consent to being tied up by a stranger). It also requires frank and open conversation regarding what you’re going to do, and what you’re okay with doing (and having done to you) before you actually go and do it.
Introducing the idea of power and control into the bedroom is certainly fraught with anxiety, especially for those unaccustomed to such clear definitions. As Spiderman says, “With great power comes great responsibility”—so all SM should be conducted with those whom you trust, and who are certainly sober enough to recognize the distinctions between pain (stimulating the nerve endings) and harm (causing actual damage—a common rule of thumb is “anything requiring medical attention”). This goes for both the dominant (the one who assumes control) and the submissive (the one who gives control).
And a note for both—a submissive “gives” control, not “gives up”. One of the allures of SM is that it’s theatrical—bindings need not be so strong as to restrain a convict, but only strong enough to provide the illusion of confinement (so, rather like OJ Simpson’s first trial). Hence, the presence of “safewords”—words which, in the context of a scene, are out of place, and that, when said, signal the absolute-yes-I-mean-it stop of play. A poor safeword: “Ouch”. A good safeword: “OJ Simpson”. A great set of safewords for people who are curious about trying SM with their partners: “Green”, “Yellow”, “Red”. “Green” for “Yes seriously I really like this don’t mind my cries”, “Yellow” for “Please tread with caution, I’m close to my limit” and “Red” for “No really. I’ve had enough.” Safewords are holy writ when it comes to SM—so much so that even the implication that they might not be obeyed is grounds for never seeing someone again. They’re the clear line between consent and rape.
The astute reader (or hell, just anyone skimming this looking for the juicy parts) might have noticed by now that I haven’t actually mentioned any specific activities associated with SM. Partially, it’s that describing all of the various different possibilities would really be beyond the scope of this column (though if you would like specific ones elaborated on, feel free to email and I’ll consider it). But also, it’s that I tend to think of SM as less of “activities performed”, and more of atmosphere. Power relations exist in the bedroom regardless of whether or not they’re considered “SM”—few sex acts are entirely egalitarian. To be spanked with a safeword isn’t much different than deciding who’s going to be on top—the only difference is the attitude and angle in which you approach it. Like acting, SM can be used to discover things about yourself by assuming the role of someone else—like acting, it may not be for you. But who’s to say the road to self-discovery isn’t paved with leather?
(10/28/10 4:06am)
When you enter Charles A. Dana Professor of Political Science Murray P. Dry’s office he appears, dare I say it, quiet. The man who sits behind the desk in Monroe 221, the stately office with the pocket-sized constitutions outside of it barely seems to resemble the same man who, after 43 years of teaching at Middlebury, still inspires fear and triumph in students of all ages. The totems on Dry’s bookshelves profess his commitment to true inquiry that so many people spoke of during this weekend’s “Political Philosophy and the Constitution” conference in honor of Dry and his teaching career at Middlebury. Oft sung this weekend as frequently as his praises were the rarity of Dry’s achievements. The conference, originally proposed in 2005, featured three panels with academic presentations by 15 of Dry’s former students.
“It’s really very rare for an undergraduate teacher who doesn’t teach any graduate students to send so many of his former students into academia. It’s unusual,” said Suzanna Sherry ’76, one of the conference’s organizer’s. “That’s generally what graduate advisers do. So it’s a tribute to him that there were enough of us to make three panels, and then there are others. He’s rare. It’s also very unusual for students to throw a festschrift for an undergraduate professor.”
“Festschrift” is a word used in academia to mean both a scholarly celebration of someone and a collection of essays published in dedication to someone.
“The thing that struck me the most about this is the range of different interests and different political positions represented by these people,” says Fulton Professor of Humanities and colleague Stephen Donadio. “That’s unusual. Quite remarkable. It’s a real tribute to him to have people that arrive at conclusions that are not your own.”
As I sat in the audience listening to former students and colleagues chide that Dry uses every hour of every day in pursuit of knowledge and truth and torturing students into being better than they’d previously been, I couldn’t help but notice how little students reaction to Dry has changed over the years. Current seniors Maggie Moslander and Rachel Pagano are still trying to figure out what Dry wants. Just like Dry’s current students, Sean Mattie ’91, one of the weekend’s panelists said, “I want to do him proud. I want to impress him and that’s as true now as it was when I first met him.”
“He is still the same,” said Sherry. “He even looks pretty much the same. I guess he doesn’t look 15 anymore, but he still looks young. When I got here in the fall of ’72 he looked very young, but still he was very intimidating.”
True, Dry says that the only thing that’s changed about his teaching over the years is that he relies less on prepared lectures.
“I’m more and more interested in making sure students understand,” Dry said. “Experience has taught him to pause more and ask questions of his students, but I suspect that forgetting his lecture notes in his office when he went the first class of his career may have influenced the change in his style as well.”
Dry says the students here haven’t changed much either. “In general I have continued to be very fortunate to have students who are able and diligent,” said Dry. “I remember when I started teaching hearing from others at other schools about their needs to dumb down material to make sure that everybody was covered or that they were only going to teach to a certain group. And that’s never been the case here. That’s very gratifying.”
He also remarked that Middlebury has become more diverse, for the better, during his time here.
“We’ve done that in a responsible way,” said Dry.
While working on his doctorate at the University of Chicago, an advisor recommended to Dry that he apply for an open teaching position at Middlebury. He considered what he calls a fairly comparable position at Kenyon but at the time Kenyon College was still an all men’s institution. Middlebury had already become co-ed, so he chose Middlebury.
“This has been my first and only job ever,” said Dry. “And I’m not planning on retiring at the moment.”
One of the luxuries of a long-teaching career is becoming part of not only campus lore, but family history as well. “It’s great having second generation students. I feel as if I have some invisible hold over them. If they don’t want to take the course, they don’t take the course, but if they’re going to take the course I think there’s a sense of “I’m going to make an effort here” and in general they have.”
Dry said, “I probably have a reputation as a demanding teacher. For students who have an interest in the subject, I think they enjoy it and find that it’s doable. It’s not just the students that can benefit, but you have to be diligent. You just can’t get much out of it if you don’t put much into it.”
A lover of golf, swimming and summer breaks, Dry counts his teaching as his main hobby. In addition to teaching students how to think, Dry is nearing the end of a new book about same-sex marriage and the law, a topic he became interested in after a mock-court case on an early court decision that established precedent for later cases.
In response to the conference, Dry said “It’s overwhelming. I was really quite surprised when I learned about it, but I’m now looking forward to it. I’m looking forward to seeing the many of my former students who are coming.”
Though Dry looms large in Middlebury’s political landscape, when his daughter Judith Dry ’09 overlapped on campus with him “I felt as if I was Judith’s father, not as if she was my daughter.”
The weekend concluded with a celebratory dinner for Dry, though the honoree felt like just a man with daughters who hoped his speech would be good and a mother who hoped he would keep his clothes clean all night.
Nearly speechless Shirley Dry summed up her emotions, saying, “It’s a wonderful day for a mother. Look at all these people here for my son. I hope he doesn’t drop anything on his tie.”
(10/28/10 4:05am)
You are beautiful.
When I say this, I don’t mean it as some feel-good, wake-up-in-the-morning-feeling-like-P-Diddy sort of mantra that you are supposed to use to greet the day. It’s a simple fact. You, the reader, are a beautiful person, in the sort of way that is undimmed by age or weight or time. And it has something to do with who you are, and what you are, and what composes your being.
We are bombarded every day with images, words, videos, sounds, of what it means to be attractive in society. It shapes what we wear, the way we hold ourselves, and the way we view ourselves and in the process, blinds us to the fact that we are unique. That in all of the world, there is no one quite like you.
There’s a good possibility that you probably don’t believe me right now — that suddenly, your sex columnist has body-swapped with Mr. Rogers for a day, and now something is very wrong in the Neighborhood. But I am absolutely serious when I write this — there is nothing that can be done, no makeup to be put on, that can change the fundamental nature of who you are. And that’s a good thing, because who you are is something to be proud of — something worth loving.
So, here’s the thing. Today, I’d like to ask a favor of you. The next time you see someone you’ve been crushing on, or just someone you find attractive, go up to them and tell them that they’re beautiful.
It’s scary, I know. The what-if scenarios that arise from this grow faster than a stoner in a Hostess truck. What if they’re not single? What if they’re gay, or straight? What if it makes things awkward between us and colors everything I ever say to them ever again? What if they think I’m a creepy stalker? What if they’re with friends and I can’t catch them alone and then I ask and they all start laughing and I’m never able to eat in Proctor again oh god oh god kill-me-now …
Well, first off, even the most non-single and/or non-sexually-oriented-towards-you people (yeah, I’m covering my bases here) appreciates being told they’re still smoking — even if it isn’t from their targeted demographic. It’s just a nice ego-rub. Secondly, awkwardness is one of those things, like nuclear deterrents and South Dakota, that only exists because people act like it does. Don’t be awkward, and it’ll go away. (Sorry, South Dakotans.)
Will you come off as a creepy stalker? I mean, so long as your compliment doesn’t include anything terrifying (“I really like the way you’ve organized your underwear drawer!”) you’re probably okay. And frankly — knowing the hour your crush gets off of class to go to the dining hall, and whether they prefer Proctor or Ross, and then just hanging around the salad bar looking like you’re thinking really, really hard about the beets? That rates much higher on the Stalker-Monitor than just being up front about it.
And lastly, we’re not in high school anymore. Children laugh at their peers’ attraction to one another. Adults realize that it’s just one of those things that you are helpless to choose. Respect the courage of someone having the confidence to come up to you. Say thank you. It’s never easy to do.
We spend so much time drinking, partying, trying to shut down our anxieties and own up to our feelings, trying to make excuses for contact. But seriously, if only for one day? F*ck anxiety, and f*ck excuses. “The sex columnist made me do it” is your pass today. So go now. I can guarantee you’ll at least get a smile.
(10/14/10 3:59am)
It’s not easy being green.
If I have learned anything about living a sustainable lifestyle (and I have learned a lot while at Middlebury), it’s that going truly green requires a significant level of self-awareness and effort. Making small changes is a great idea, and the more of us who make those changes, the bigger the impact they will have. But as I have become increasingly aware over the last four years, what really needs to happen is a paradigm shift, a change in our fundamental values and habits as a society. I won’t comment on the nature of that change because the Opinions section is already full of people better qualified than I am to do so, and besides, this is a sex column, and you came here to read about sex. So how do we apply environmental sustainability to our sex lives?
In last year’s green issue, I told you about proper condom disposal (please don’t flush them!), petroleum-free lubes and choosing the most environmentally friendly sex toys. This year, I want to look at sex through the lens of sustainability and move past the small changes toward some personal paradigm shifts. But the shifts I want to talk about don’t really have anything to do with the environment — short of refusing to have sex in anything except an adobe yurt that you built yourself, or at the very least practicing good birth control to keep our population from skyrocketing further, I’m not so sure there are sex-specific values to be altered, at least not when trying to be eco-friendly. I think the process of seeking big changes for the better, though they might not be easy, is still useful even if it’s not saving the environment, however. So let’s talk about positive climate change in the climate of the climax — change in the environment of sex, as opposed to change in sex for the environment.
You have read through all of my contrived setting up of this grand extended metaphor, and really all I want to tell you is to talk. Talk about sex. Talk during sex. Talk after sex. Get naked and then get vocal. My biggest bad habit in the bedroom — bad in that it wasn’t serving me, my partners or the friends who then had to deal with my anxiety — was not communicating well regarding sex for the first, oh, two years of having an active sex life. That’s a long time not to voice what you want, how you want it, if you want it. Just like the first step to saving the planet is starting an open dialogue on what needs to be saved in the first place, the first step to saving yourself from silent suffering and bad to mediocre sex is to say something.
The most important thing to speak up about is obviously whether or not you want to have sex. Developing self-awareness is just as important in protecting yourself as it is in reducing your carbon footprint. If you don’t feel good about getting down, DON’T DO IT. If we can learn to call out people for driving to the gym when they could walk, we can learn to call out others for pressuring us into sex when we don’t want it. It is our responsibility to take care of the environment, and I think it is equally our responsibility to take care of each other, to be gentle with each other in such a vulnerable state as practicing procreation.
If you get it out there that you do want to get sexual, and so does your partner, don’t clam up now! Your bodies shouldn’t be the only things speaking to each other in the dark of your dorm room. Making the first peep can be a challenge — it can feel less nerve-wracking to let your partner gnaw your nipples off than to risk turning him or her off by speaking up (unless biting is your thing). But isn’t it so validating to know you’re giving your partner what he or she wants (and not giving what he or she doesn’t want)? You can both have the kind of sex you enjoy the most. I really think the biggest problem facing Middlebury’s sexual environment today is the lack of communication — if we don’t change, neither will the climate.
(10/07/10 4:06am)
Manual sex is really the perineum of the sexual repertoire — usually appreciated as a road to get between interesting places, and not as an actual place to linger and take in the view. Most often serving as an appetizer to limber up for voyages in more tropical climes, as a main course it’s often disparaged as the refuge of middle-schoolers and the erectile dysfunct. And while certainly an excellent backup plan for when a gentleman does not stand at attention, I think there is also a place for it outside the general realm of plan B (or C).
Manual sex (sex where the primary source of stimulation is what you’re doing with your hands) has a number of arguments working against it, chief of which goes something like this — “Why would I do what my gent or lady can do all by their lonesome, with nothing more than a bit of spit and a racy rag?” After all, most of us have probably invested a considerable amount of time and effort perfecting the art of self-satisfaction. So why waste precious partner-time rediscovering America?
First, there are a number of delightful, unique sensations that distinguish manual sex and masturbation. Whispered dirty talk, soft kisses, hard bites, the sensation of your partner’s body sliding over yours, hair stroking, hair pulling, spontaneous caresses, unpredictable and hands-free stimulation … the list goes on, limited only by creativity and the number of hands available to participate. (For added sensitivity, a simple blindfold works wonders). Like oral sex, the appeal is primarily of being able to relax and enjoy the pleasure, and perhaps bookmark particularly hot moments for future private playback.
Second, there’s no better way to learn about your partner than learning about how they touch themselves. (Though a really excellent dinner date might come close.) To paraphrase Sun Tzu, “Know thyself, know thy [partner]. A thousand [passionate sexual encounters], a thousand victories.” And here, especially with a new partner, learning caps should be donned — because nothing is more individual or unique than how someone has discovered their own body. Here are some pointers based off of testimonies from friends and strangers, but please note, all you Commanders-in-Chiefs — they’re very much subject to veto.
Those pleasing ladies — remember, the clit is a delicate bud. Not for naught is it often associated with flowers — so handle accordingly. Would you strangle a bouquet of roses? No? Good. That said, like learning a foreign language, the best way to learn is to have the native speaker actually put your fingers where they’re supposed to go and move them for you until you get the gist (so, really, not like learning a foreign language at all). And unless you’re Wynton Marsalis or similarly experienced, do limit your improvisation— if the lady would like you to go harder or faster as the situation escalates, it’s on her to let you know.
Those pleasing gents — our genitalia tends less towards delicate-flower and more towards stripper-pole. Generally for the gents, things to keep in mind are grip (how does he hold the drumstick and how tight?) angle (what is the trajectory the hand moves along?) and speed (or velocity, really, for all you Physics majors out there). Unlike physics, however, there is considerable room for error.
Finally, though, one thing that manual sex tends to offer that is occasionally lost in your average intercourse is the opportunity for a non-orgasm-focused encounter. By that, I don’t mean Tantric sex — this isn’t a contest to see how long you can last, though that could be fun — but a chance to really get to know and appreciate the intricacies of whoever it is you’re getting to know biblically, without the pressure of having to “perform.” Think of it like a road-trip along the perineum — whether or not you arrive, it’s the journey that counts.
(10/07/10 4:05am)
Great leaders are all judged by history. Centuries of human history are often boiled down to a list of those who have defied expectation: Pericles, Augustus, Queen Elizabeth, George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Winston Churchill, Mahatma Gandhi and Nelson Mandela, to name just a few. But these are not just leaders history has judged to be great; they are also leaders who have improved the human condition.
Calvin Coolidge, the 30th president of the United States, did not make history, and history has noted him for little more than his propensity for silence. When he died, Dorothy Parker (a famous left-wing poet, screenwriter and satirist) is reported as having said, “How do they know?” Yet ‘Silent Cal’ was the president during one of the most vibrant eras of American history. The ‘roaring 20s’ was a time of massive economic expansion, increasing consumer confidence and expectation, colossal raises in the standard of living, new forms of art and music, technological development, emancipation of women and general happiness for the American people. This is not to paint the 20s as the long lost golden era when life was perfect and America had nothing to learn. Nor is it to say that it was a time when all American people were all happy. But it was a time of general hope and pleasure rather than one of earth shattering progress.
For decades, none of the prominent politicians or leaders in American government could bear the patience of silence. Loudness, obviousness and tabloid fame have become the central part of political life. It is less and less clear where Hollywood ends and Washington begins, and political life attracts characters that pretend to be real rather than real people that have character. Every politician wants to be a historical celebrity and to be mentioned in some survey to ‘change history’. Governing people has become far less of a political goal. Progress is celebrated by television ratings without reference to happiness.
Progress is not in itself a bad thing. While conservatives do not always celebrate change, we are not against change for the better but are, rather, in opposition to change for the worse. We stand up for what we believe to be worthwhile ideas from the past as well as those from the present and attempt to protect the wisdom of the ages from erosion. Many wonderful changes have taken place since the roaring 20s. I, like other American women, can look towards a future where no career is out of the question because of gender. There have been advances in civil rights, medicine, technology, liberty of thought and many other areas of life. However, political life has not only progressed, but also changed for the worse. Celebrity politicians have devalued governing, making the press briefing rather than the state of the union the signature of their office.
Celebrities are fakes. They are meant to be fakes. They draw us into a world that avoids what is real. Drama is the driving force upon which they exist. Therefore, when they are in love, their passion has no bounds. They live or die upon the words of their beloved. But true love is boring when presented in a tabloid because it makes miraculous the every day. Thus, celebrities are in love until they cheat. They raise children in the same way by creating false drama and intrigue around them — endowing them with strange names, adopting too many, and bringing sex into their lives from their first breath. Their religions have nothing to do with a higher power, a moral code or an understanding of human nature. They have everything to do with temptation, intimacy publicly displayed and the newest fad. Just as they attempt to remain forever young through crazed dieting and plastic surgery, they try to make their lives forever the last word in the dramatic.
Real political leaders must do hard work for the people whom they are elected to govern. They must be able to tell the real from the fake and the important from the unimportant. But today political news breaks in Rolling Stone magazine behind a picture of Lady Gaga’s butt. The first lady spends more time in Vogue than fighting childhood obesity, and the President appears on the front of Time dressed up as if he were from another era. The first couple flies off to other cities for date nights and their choice of dog is reported by major news media. Political life has become merely another avenue to the new American dream of fame and riches. Publicity has replaced the public good.
Democracy is the best government when it gives individuals real goods: a life where adults take care of themselves and their children, and the strong the weak. Real people work hard every day for the enduring goods and they deserve politicians who do the same rather than attempting to dance with the stars.
(09/30/10 4:06am)
This is a shout-out to the make-out.
Last weekend I had some friends over for a rousing round of “Spin the Bottle” in the context of a “Come as your eighth grade self” party. Have you ever seen college students given license to kiss each other with total abandon in front of a room full of people? Of course you have, if you’ve been to Sketchcullough or the (now defunct) Bunker. But when the permission to make out is a game (as opposed to copious amounts of alcohol), and players are meant to kiss multiple other players, two things become clear: 1. College students really, really enjoy getting physical with each other, and 2. There are some key differences between college students and eighth graders.
When young adults go out on the weekends, whether we are single or in a committed relationship or somewhere in between, the most common measure I’ve heard of the success of the evening is whether or not we “got some.” I could say that not everyone wants some to be politically correct, but I think that’s patently false. We’re young, we’re hot, we’re talented and smart — and we’ve got the stamina to stay up all night (among other things). We are designed, and I really think we all want, to touch each other. But as much as we mutually want to get in each other’s pants, so many of us go home alone! Why is that? Why do we need alcohol or a silly game to make it permissible to walk up to each other and offer the opportunity to do some heavy petting when it’s clear we’re all in it to win it?
I think part of the answer to that question lies in one of the ways we are different from eighth graders. Let me explain:
When I was in elementary school, holding hands with my crush made my palms sweaty and my heart clatter around inside my ribcage.
When I was in middle school, holding hands was just a step on the way to kissing, which was the new thing to make me giggle and blush.
Halfway through high school, kissing was still great but pretty routine — it was my boyfriend wanting to take my shirt off that made me all nervous and warm in fun places.
In college, where all you have to do to see someone naked is work in the library during exams (yay streakers!), we need still more to get our pulses pounding. We’re still holding hands and kissing lips and touching breasts, but they feel like the early levels of a video game — there is a greater prize to be won if you keep moving up (or moving down, as the case may be). So the pressure is on when we approach each other on the dance floor or in the dining hall. We’re not just offering each other leisurely cuddling or passionate kisses, here. We want those things, but I think there’s the expectation that we want more. We are supposed to be adults, and don’t adults just want sex?
I propose that we don’t. Sex is awesome, but I think sometimes we push ourselves to that point because we feel like we’re supposed to — like that’s the ultimate goal, so if we can achieve it, we should. Lord knows we’re all overachievers. But it’s not settling to stop at second base, or even first. In fact, I think it takes so much of the pressure off and leaves more room for us to feel satisfied and enjoy ourselves. For the same reason that playing “Spin the Bottle” made me really anxious in the eighth grade (that’s back when kissing was the thing), going out to Sketchcullough hoping to pick somebody up makes me nervous because supposedly sex is on the line. Based on my friends’ reactions to playing “Spin the Bottle” in college, however, it seems that kissing, when that’s all that’s expected, is still quite titillating. Maybe calling next weekend a win could be a simple as saying, “Hey, do you want to (just) make out?”
(09/23/10 4:07am)
One of the more annoying truisms that floats around the sex-advice world goes something like this: “The most powerful sexual organ you have is your brain.”
What makes this statement aggravating is not its content — it’s entirely true — but that it reeks of consolation. It’s like one of those “A for EFFORT!” or “EVERYONE’S A WINNER” stickers your kindergarten teacher slapped on every assignment you ever turned in (hopefully, though, they never penciled in that on any homework you had). It’s hard to think of intellect being applicable to sex — after all, for most people, the ability to list all the phylums while simultaneously f*cking someone’s earrings off is a niche skill, at best. Still, the ability to use one’s brain in the bedroom is an incredibly important, undervalued skill, and nowhere is there a better way to showcase that than in the art of foreplay.
By foreplay, I don’t mean the obligatory five-and-a-half-minutes of fingers-and-tongue prior to the main event — high school notwithstanding, oral and manual sex are play by definition. Foreplay is the tone that you set before you get there, before the clothes come off and the video camera turns on, before you get down to the whole passionate delightful filthy business of it all. And yes, it’s pretty much essential.
Good foreplay is an act of architecture. What you are aiming for is to create a space in which sex is not only desired, but where it’s also comfortable and uncluttered. In college, especially, this is important — how do you invite someone into your bedroom when it’s also your living room, your study room and in some unfortunate instances, your kitchen as well?
In foreplay, what you’re trying to do is answer the question, “How can I get me and my partner to leave behind the stresses of the day and kindle a mutual attraction?” (Another translation: “How can I get laid?”) Sex is never good if one partner is thinking about their impending Chem exam and the other is thinking about whether they’re about to throw up half a pint of Jägermeister. The bed-study-living-room analogy is true for your room, but also for your mind and your body — so how do you tune out the noise and translate you and your partner’s focus to pleasure only, instead of the millions of other things you might have to do?
It depends from partner to partner. A dinner for two is usually a good bet; it removes you from immediate campus life and creates a bubble in which you two are the only important things in the world. (Hopefully. In practice, try avoiding talking about things stressing you out, or flirting with waitresses/other patrons while at the table.) For the more socially-inclined, going together to a large party, separating for a while to flirt with others and then coming back together to press all hot and sweaty against each other on the dance floor could also be an option, to merge flirtation with light role play.
But then again, foreplay doesn’t have to be elaborate. The joys of the information age make it easy to remind someone, even in the middle of a busy day, that there are better things to think about than whether or not that B- you got will affect your final grade. Dirty texts are come in many flavours—from the teasing (“I was just thinking about how last night you did that _____ with your ____ and it made me shiver”) to the demanding (“I want your _____”) to the lingering (“Be home at __ and I’ll be in your bed wearing the ____”) to the pictoral (… yeah, no example of that appropriate for this paper). The possibilities are endless, and limited only by what you can think of. After all, as another annoying truism goes: “Remember, it’s not the size of your brain that counts. It’s how you use it.”
(09/16/10 4:15am)
Much to the chagrin of those who demand that personal tales must color a man’s professional output, Roman Polanski, the scourge of feminists and the right-wing culture police alike, has made a fine, spare thriller that has nothing to do with its director’s own sordid story. The Ghost Writer is at once a modern and old-fashioned film. Ewan MacGregor, character unnamed, is a protagonist very much in the mold of current solitary men who discover grand conspiracies on the brink of unraveling, such as Matt Damon in the Bourne trilogy or George Clooney in Michael Clayton (or Syriana, or, by the looks of it, The American). Though the alienated loner is by no means a new fictional concept, there’s a certain 21st century weariness and wry sense of humour to MacGregor’s character. At the same time, The Ghost Writer recalls the paranoid political thriller of the Nixon/Cold War era of deep government distrust in its content and style, a genre Polanski is familiar with as the director of Chinatown, perhaps the greatest indictment of American corruption — both political and moral — ever put to film.
Superficially, The Ghost Writer has an obvious political target: Tony Blair’s unlikely friendship and wartime alliance with George W. Bush, and their dark, unresolved history of torture. There is no attempt to conceal references to recent political players and events, although as the film progresses they matter less and less. Pierce Brosnan plays Adam Lang, disgraced former Prime Minister of Britain. Lang has been offered obscene amounts of money to write a juicy memoir — by the way, Tony Blair’s much-anticipated memoir, “A Journey,” was released this month to moderately disappointed reviews — but his first ghost writer is found washed up dead on some stormy New England shore. With only a dull draft of the book in place, Lang must hire a new ghost writer: his fiercely opinionated and sharp wife Ruth suggests MacGregor’s character, mostly referred to as “the Ghost” or “man.” The Ghost is unmarried, with no evident family and few friends. He knows little about politics, and is hired based on his treatment of a sports celebrity’s memoir. He is flown to a desolate part of Martha’s Vineyard that seems to be at all times deserted, drenched in rain, and freezing cold, with a 90 percent chance of ominous thunder. (The actual filming location is, of course, Germany, due to Polanski’s inability to enter the United States; he completed post-production while under house arrest in Switzerland. At his ski chalet, natch: the man suffers in style.)
Lang is reluctant to spend more time than he has to with the Ghost, who nonetheless extracts a few charming college stories from him, but Ruth (played excellently by Olivia Williams), takes a special interest in him. Her husband is having an affair with his icy assistant (an atrociously accented Kim Cattrall, last seen terrifying the nation in Sex and the City 2, also a meditation on American corruption). Though Ruth mocks the Ghost for his previous, less distinguished writing efforts, she uses him as an emotional and intellectual receptacle. Perhaps the Ghost’s lack of personal background makes him seem safe, but as a blank slate upon which stories are casually tossed, he absorbs and retains important details. The events surrounding the previous ghost writer’s death — unambiguously mysterious from the start — begin to reveal themselves to him, and he gets drawn in to the more sinister aspects of his employer’s past. Within two weeks of his working on the memoir, a major media story about Lang’s use of torture breaks, and Lang is indicted for war crimes by the ICC (wishful thinking here on the part of some European producers, surely). He is forced to stay in the United States, while protesters soak in the New England downpour outside his home, waving inspired WAR CRIMINAL signs and screaming epithets. The Ghost, too, is stuck on this dreary island, embroiling himself in the controversy his predecessor had discovered to the point where he begins to fear for his life. Much of what makes the movie compelling is its moody cinematography, visually stunning and disturbing at the same time, with vast expanses of gray offset by the cold, clinical lines of the Langs’ ultramodern glass home. Yet at the end, this tight thriller is almost too conventional; its reveal, though beautifully delivered, is not nearly good enough for its fantastic set-up. Its twist is also given away with a ludicrously unbelievable plot device. The final scenes, however, are perfectly constructed, a quick and brutal reminder of Polanski’s overarching philosophy of the culture of power: it is ruthlessly efficient at self-preservation.
(09/09/10 4:20am)
The news that director Edgar Wright would be heading up an adaptation of Bryan Lee O’Malley’s “Scott Pilgrim” graphic novel series was cause for celebration, for fans of both the comic and of Wright’s work. The two films Wright is best known for, Shaun of the Dead and Hot Fuzz, are gut-busting parodies of two classic American genres — the zombie flick and the buddy-cop movie — that subverted those genres’ well-known tropes with fast-paced British wit. So who better than a clear pop-culture geek like Wright to adapt the snarky “Scott Pilgrim,” a work absolutely mired in Gen X and Y cultural references? Add to this the casting of awkward-indie-kid strawman Michael Cera in the titular role, and you had the makings for a movie seemingly tailor-made for obsessive, Comic-Con-like fandom. Think Christopher Nolan taking over the Batman franchise, or J.J. Abrams promising us a Star Trek movie that would satisfy the fanboys and the general population. In other words, the film’s success (critical and financial) seemed like a sure thing.
Things didn’t quite turn out that way. Wright’s Scott Pilgrim vs. the World premiered in mid-August, and after a financially disastrous couple of weekends, was roundly declared to be something of a box office bomb; the film’s worldwide revenue sits around $35 million, or about half of its budget. Why were people simply not interested in seeing this movie? The movie was polarizing among critics, but previous summer box office successes like M. Night Shamylan’s Avatar: The Last Airbender showed that in 2010, critical word of mouth has little to do with a multiplex film’s financial success. Was its target audience too specific or perhaps not specific enough? Or was there something wrong with the film itself that prevented it from becoming the sort of viral, “Inception”-like hit it seemed to have the potential to be? Well, maybe.
In the story, Scott Pilgrim, a twenty-three-year-old bass player (for “Sex Bob-omb”) and slacker extraordinaire living in Toronto, meets the girl of his dreams, Ramona Flowers, and is soon made aware that to win her, he must battle her “Seven Evil Exes,” who have banded together to control the future of her love life. Thus, quick vignettes of Pilgrim’s stagnant existence are punctuated by bursts of highly stylized action sequences influenced by Mortal Kombat and other classic arcade and Nintendo games. The importance of video games in the film’s aesthetic cannot be exaggerated, and if this is one of the story’s key cultural touchstones, then indie rock is certainly the other. Sex Bob-omb’s progression through a Battle of the Bands competition is one of the primary subplots, and producer Nigel Godrich (Radiohead’s “sixth member”) oversaw the soundtrack, which includes original work from Beck, Broken Social Scene, and Metric.
Visually and stylistically, the pop-culture-pileup technique that Wright utilizes is fun, constantly stimulating and unique. His editing, pacing and use of CGI take countless cues from comic books, making Scott Pilgrim vs. the World probably the most successful attempt to “bring a comic book to life” (and far more effective than Zach Snyder’s Watchmen). The fight scenes are suitably over-the-top, and the source material’s slacker comedy carries over well, especially in the hands of the supporting cast (such as Scott’s “cool gay roommate”, Wallace, played by Kieran “the Other Culkin” Culkin, and Jason Schwartzman’s evil mastermind Gideon Graves). Cramming the battles with all seven exes into a 105-minute movie means that the action occurs quickly and frequently, and one leaves the theater feeling bombarded and pumped full of adrenaline — in a good way.
Still, after the rush wears off, it feels like something at the film’s center doesn’t quite hold. This something is the lacking-in-chemistry Pilgrim/Flowers romance, which is supposed to drive the entire plot. When we can’t relate to Scott’s reason for snapping out of his slackerdom to bash the hell out of Ramona’s romantic history, it feels a bit like the stakes are too low, or not present at all.The problem with their relationship is that both characters are dull, non-magnetic, and uncompelling. Scott does nothing but whine when he isn’t busy transforming into the ultimate badass, and we are given no reason to see what’s so special about Ramona except for her mild good looks and her “quirky” hair-dye habits. With more charisma at the center of this movie, I suspect Scott Pilgrim would’ve caught on much more effectively with audiences (think Jim and Pam of The Office, the offbeat romance that has had TV audiences captivated for years).
Or perhaps a simple nation-wide “Cera fatigue” is responsible for this movie’s fate. Cera first made his name in excellent products like the Arrested Development TV series, Superbad and Juno. But since Juno, Cera has been cast in films that seem to try to replicate that movie’s central romance (with the slightest of variations) ad nauseum: see Nick & Nora’s Infinite Playlist, Paper Heart and Youth In Revolt. And a universally-derided blockbuster like Year One can’t help the poor guy’s reputation. Cera keeps up with the gags and witticisms of Scott Pilgrim with his typically impeccable comic sensibility, but it’s unclear whether the weakness of his character results from his performance, the script, or even the comic book itself. In the graphic novel, Pilgrim is equally lazy and whiny, but somehow you root more for him to get the girl.
In the end, Scott Pilgrim vs. the World might’ve hewed too closely to the video games that it worships. Remember how little you cared about the cinematic cut scenes in the video games you grew up playing, even the middling-to-good ones? Looking at some of this decade’s most revered video games, like Portal and Bioshock, it seems that a compelling story in addition to excellent gameplay is what separates the good games from the great ones. What Scott Pilgrim vs. the World needs is a romance that doesn’t just make you want to skip through the “cut scenes” to the next thrilling fight. After all, the video game based off of this movie has scored better with critics than the movie itself, and when else has that ever happened? Still, the pure joy of the inventiveness of Scott Pilgrim and its comedic banter make it breezy, enjoyable fare, and worth the money it would’ve cost to see it at your local theater. It’s a shame things turned out the way they did for this movie, and let’s hope that the next projects for both Michael Cera and Edgar Wright won’t be such financial bob-ombs.
(09/09/10 4:06am)
I have a love-hate relationship with the term “hook-up.” On the one hand, as someone who loves discretion, it’s a perfect phrase to describe a physical encounter without press-ganging your conversational partners into envisioning your sordid life. On the other hand, as someone who loves specificity, saying you “hooked up” with someone is about as specific as responding to a query about your plans for the night with “Oh, you know….stuff.” In short, while it is great when talking to mixed company (strangers, relatives, the Pope), it’s terrible in the private life, both when talking to your hook-up-ee or to your friends in the aftermath because, as Camus would say, what does it all mean? This thing you have just done?
Presuming your night has had more than just a long, involved conversation followed by a moonlit stroll, if you’ve done the deed you’ve probably fallen into one of the following categories. (And a note for the curious — when saying “sex”, what is meant is “sex including manual, oral, anal and/or intercourse.” All sex does, in fact, count. A blowjob does not equal a handshake, at least where these are concerned.)
No-Strings-Attached Sex: This is the Poptart of sex — the fuel of commuters, commitment-phobes, and the crazy-overworked. It doesn’t get much more basic than this — there are no strings. You meet someone for sex, it lasts an hour (or two, or three, or whatever) and then you leave. Sex-etiquette: No, you do not need to exchange numbers. Yes, it is considered classy to know their name. You may feel slightly used — this is most likely because you were, in fact, used. Then again, so were they. Why not embrace it?
One-Night Stand: The Happy Meal of sex — though if you still order Happy Meals, most likely you shouldn’t be having these (or reading this column, for that matter). This is NSA with a sleepover, which lends it a refinement not unlike putting a paper bag over a pint of fortified. The problem with one-night-stands tends to come in the morning, when revelation, expectation and sobriety all tap on your window like a cop’s flashlight. That being said, pulling a hit-and-run is unnecessary — unless an angry father/brother/sister/girlfriend is running up with a baseball bat, sneaking out in the wee morning hours implies unnecessary shame. Simply thank your partner and leave. (In a pinch, a note works just fine too.)
F*ckbuddy: This is the diet midday snack of sex. Like a diet — often precarious. Generally, f*ckbuddies are repeat, reliable booty calls —you’ve had sex more than once, there’s physical attraction, but dating/a relationship is out of the question for whatever reason. Note — a f*ckbuddy is not a whore; thus, a 4 a.m. “r u busy?” text is unacceptable. Respect is a given, even if commitment is not.
Friends-with-Benefits: This is brunch — not breakfast, not lunch and full of confused people looking for one or the other. What distinguishes this type from f*ckbuddy is that you are friends first, sex partners second. What distinguishes this from a relationship is… well, that you say you’re not in a relationship, that you mean it and that you don’t harbor romantic feelings towards your partner. In some ways, this requires more trust than the standard relationship — in a friends-with-benefits relationship, you have to know the other person well enough to trust their ability to distinguish the warm fuzzies of friendship from the warm fuzzies of relationship. Of the previous, these have the greatest chance of evolving into a full-fledged relationship, and also the greatest chance of collapsing under strain. Conduct with caution.
Relationship: This is dinner. This is candles, flowers, long conversations, moonlit walks, etc, etc. Monogamy is not required, though it’s usually expected (so thoughts otherwise should be openly expressed). Usually, these are a product of “The Talk”, but can be as simple as a post-coital -“Is this a relationship?” — “…Yeah.” — “Cool”.
(05/06/10 4:00am)
I’ve been thinking recently about where people hook up (have sex, make out, whatever your definition is). Since sophomore year, I personally haven’t been doing it anywhere interesting — ah, the benefits of a single room.
Before that, however, I graced half the campus (or at least most of the campus surrounding Allen, my freshman dorm) with my sexcapades, and before college I was really creative because someone in my family was usually home and I didn’t have access to all of the empty academic buildings that Middlebury offers at night.
Those endeavors were really exciting, and I’ve been thinking lately that destination sex shouldn’t just be out of necessity. As we all prepare for the great diaspora preceding summer vacation — and I know summer lovin’ is on everyone’s mind behind all of that final exam nonsense — I present some “greatest hits” of destination sex. You’ll notice lots of them are outside because we spend all winter snowed in.
Before I jump in, my general rule of thumb for fairly public sex is that unless you’re an exhibitionist, the likelihood that someone will see you and your partner going at it is about equal to the amount of clothing you should keep on — so if you think there’s an 80 percent chance of someone catching you in the act, you should probably keep 80 percent of your clothing on your body and the rest within reach in case you need to make a quick escape. Just a thought.
On to the places! First off, I just want to say kudos to the couple I walked in on in Hillcrest last year. It was just before 5 in the afternoon on a Friday last March and they were doing it on the desks at the front of the room with the shades up, and I’m pretty sure a lecture was scheduled at 5:30 or 6. Bold move. Almost as bold as doing it in one of the fishbowl seminar rooms in Bi-hall.
If you’re looking for someplace less ostentatious on campus, the natural amphitheater behind the cemetery is a good place (or so I hear — I haven’t been there yet), and a friend of mine made good use of the soft grass on top of Atwater dining hall — we need to use it for something now that it’s closed, right? Empty studies, the group study rooms in the library, the greenhouse in Bi-hall (that place is popular — just read the logbook), any of the dark wood-paneled rooms in Axinn (anybody see the sex scene in Atonement?) and even Mead Chapel (if you don’t mind the hard pews and you’re not particularly religious) are all other good options — just don’t leave a mess.
Off campus, you might think, “Sex on the beach!” but I promise it’s not worth it — you just get a lot of sand in really uncomfortable places and there is nowhere to run if the cops catch you. Believe me, I know. Doing it in a kayak or a canoe however — that’s a good kind of rocking the boat, if you know what I mean, and it’s a lot more private.
I like to think that destination sex is not just about doing it outside of the bedroom, but that it’s also about picking a place that adds to the experience either because someone might catch you (if you like that feeling) or because it’s just a beautiful space, so doing it in a gas station bathroom doesn’t exactly fit the bill. Shenanigans on a roof however, especially under a sky full of stars, are amazing.
A secluded meadow or on the hood of a car (preferably a nice car, but either way put a blanket down so you don’t burn your bare ass) or even just doing it in a different room at a different time of day (or during a thunderstorm — so epic) are other excellent choices.
Whatever you’re doing this summer, and wherever you do it, I hope it’s good.
(05/06/10 4:00am)
Back in the 1970s, when many of our parents were in college, a major controversy broke out on campuses nationwide. Male and female students were living in closer quarters than ever before, sharing dormitories.
While many expressed concerns about these unprecedented housing reforms, the uproar eventually died down and men and women are able to live in the same halls without a second thought.
In our parents’ day coed residence halls were new and progressive. Today, Middlebury is at the forefront of a new frontier in housing: gender-neutral dorms.
On Sunday night, first-year Senator Tony Huynh introduced a presentation that called on the SGA to support gender-neutral housing at Middlebury. The proposed initiative, entitled “The Rooming Choice Act” was co-written by Huynh, Elizabeth King ’13 and Joey Radu ’13. The three students explained that the goal of the proposal is to create “a better, more tolerant, open environment on campus.”
“The college is not treating people who are legally adults as adults and allowing them to choose with whom they think they would be most compatible living,” said King.
What does gender-neutral housing entail, you ask?
The SGA resolution advocates that “gender should play no role in housing for sophomores and above.” This means that all students, regardless of gender, would be free to live together in any of Middlebury’s housing options, including doubles. This is less of a change than one might think, however, as the “Principles of Residential Life” in the College Handbook already state that “every residential unit is open to all students without regard to race, sex, religion, ethnic origin, sexual orientation, gender identity or expression or disability.”
Based on this language, it sounds as if Middlebury already has a policy of gender-neutrality.
Radu and King, both first-years in Atwater Commons, realized during spring room-draw that the college’s current policy of providing doubles to only same-gender roommates is not documented within the College Handbook.
They explained to the SGA that while applying for a two-room double in Coffrin, they were sent back and forth between various administrators and offices. There was no procedure in place to handle their request. Furthermore, no one immediately knew who had the final call on whether or not the pair could be roommates.
Their search for answers finally ended when Atwater Dean Scott Barnicle amended the Atwater Constitution to allow gender-neutrality in all two-room doubles. From there King and Radu decided to pursue a campus-wide policy change that would allow for gender-neutrality in all dorms, eliminating the system’s current vagueness once and for all.
The Rooming Choice Act calls upon the SGA to advocate for both a policy of complete gender-neutrality in all upperclassmen dorms and a search for a feasible option for gender-neutrality in first-year housing. While well over 50 colleges across the country have some form of gender-neutral housing, very few include the option for first-years. Two notable exceptions are Hampshire College and Skidmore College.
Radu, King and Huynh chose to focus on solely upperclassmen in this initiative due to the added difficulty of neutralizing first-year housing. Since first-years do not choose their roommates, finding an adequate solution will prove more complicated.
Nevertheless, they expressed their clear dissatisfaction with a housing system that ignores the discomfort first-years may feel when placed with a roommate of the same gender.
“Whose comfort are we valuing when we room a gay man with a straight man?” said Radu.
The SGA resolution calls for Middlebury to make every effort to create “a supportive environment for all students, regardless of identity as transgender or queer.”
A housing system that assumes all students would feel most comfortable rooming with someone of the same gender ignores the presence of the queer community.
Encompassing gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender and other groups that do not identify as strictly heterosexual and “male” or “female,” many members of the queer community would in fact feel more comfortable rooming with someone of different gender.
“You get to choose who you live with — it’s a comfort thing,” said Huynh of the initiative.
The presenters addressed several common concerns with gender-neutral housing. While many skeptics immediately expressed concerns with a system that would allow heterosexual couples to room together, Radu and King emphasized that this has not been a problem on any of the campuses that have implemented gender-neutral housing. They reminded their audience that homosexual couples are in fact allowed to live together under the current system. The presenters also advocated that gender-neutrality be implemented in all upperclassmen dorms, as opposed to a select few.
“It’s isolating individuals who do want to live in a gender-neutral room, which isn’t really what the point of this policy change would be,” said King of confining gender-neutrality to certain spaces.
Ultimately, the SGA passed the resolution with a unanimous vote. With the support of the most prominent student organization on campus, The Rooming Choice Act stands a much better chance of being passed by the administration next fall. Should Middlebury embrace gender-neutrality in housing, students can expect the option by room draw next spring.
(05/06/10 4:00am)
As Gaypril comes to a close and talks of gender-neutral housing dominate recent conversation on campus, the town of Middlebury reflects on its own progress in the always-charged sexuality debate. April 26 marked the 10-year anniversary of the civil union in Vermont. The Civil Union Bill, which took effect on July 1 of the same year, was passed by the state in 2000.
Civil union legislation has allowed same-sex couples equal rights and responsibilities, at the state level, as opposite-sex married couples. Under this legal definition, partners are allowed hospital visitation rights and a shared inheritance. The bill also makes it possible for same-sex couples to pay taxes jointly, and it grants parental status to both individuals, should the couple decide to have a child.
The legislation saw its inception in December 1999, when Baker v. Vermont went to the Supreme Court. The court ruled to allow same-sex couples the same rights as opposite-sex ones, triggering the April 2000 legislation. Beth Robinson, a Middlebury lawyer and the chair of the Vermont Freedom to Marry Task Force, was one of the lawyers involved in the case.
“I was constantly faced with clients who were being denied basic protection and security,” she said. “Vermont didn’t see a family where one existed.”
The Vermont Freedom to Marry Task Force is an educational organization that partners with its sister committee, the Vermont Freedom to Marry Action Committee, which is more political in nature. Robinson, with help from the two other lawyers involved in Baker v. Vermont, founded the organization in December 1995. It acted as a grassroots group, working to bring the case to the supreme court.
“The case was about fairness,” said Dorothy Mammen, the retired statewide coordinator of the task force. “It’s not right that gays and lesbians didn’t have the same rights as everyone else; they shouldn’t be using a separate drinking fountain.”
Mammen, a Middlebury resident, began her work with the task force in the summer of 1999 and continued until the fall of 2001. She said it was an easy decision to get involved with the task force, given her belief that in a just world same-sex couples would share equality; she sees it as a civil rights issue. An active volunteer at first, Mammen talked to many people in the hopes that they would sign a resolution advocating a civil union.
“We trained volunteers, spoke to rotaries, set up booths at the state fairs and held speaking engagements in churches, clubs or wherever we could find space,” Mammen said. “We also collected signatures for our Marriage Resolution, which would allow same sex couples to marry.”
Mammen’s hopes were realized in April 2009, when Vermont became the first state to legislatively pass a bill that legalized same sex marriage, not just civil unions. While other states, like Massachusetts, California, Connecticut and Iowa, had passed same-sex marriage bills in court, Vermont took legislative action. It was passed when a majority — two-thirds of the senate — approved the bill and overrode Governor Douglas’ initial veto.
Robinson sees the passage of the same-sex marriage bill as an important step for Vermont, especially, she mused, because many feared Vermonters would “check-out” of the debate post civil union legislation. Robinson believes that without the coordinated strategic planning of the task force it would not have been possible.
“People are rightly celebrating this groundbreaking bill,” said Robinson. “It was a relief to open this new chapter, and Vermont can proudly look back in nine more years.”
Sherry Corbin, a resident of South Hero, Vt. and the treasurer of the task force, sees both bills as “no brainers” for Vermont. Instead, she called each decision a milestone for the United States.
Those who have been involved with the issue from its roots notice a drastic shift in society today. While the task force observed that people were once reserved about publically supporting same-sex marriage, today it notices that that hesitant nature has vanished. Robinson believes gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgender individuals are more comfortable in the community today. However, she knows it will not be as simple as the “flicking of a light switch” to change attitudes on a more universal scale.
“The progress and distance we have come since 1995 is unimaginable,” she said. “Vermont is now welcoming for all citizens and community conversations are more open.”
Mammen agrees with Robinson, and observed that Vermont is one of the first states to pass bills or enact laws in regards to equality and freedom. She said the successful passage of the same-sex marriage bill is a “natural step in the tradition of Vermont’s idea to live and let live.”
“What every gay person sees in their lives, Vermont now sees as a society,” said Corbin. “There was a big coming out party in 2000, and once you come out you can’t come back.”
Many couples came out during the civil unions struggle because, as members of the task force believe, they felt the support of others behind them. People who were concerned about testifying in state court for fear of losing their jobs realized many other people were walking in their same shoes, and together they overcame their fears.
“There has been tremendous change and the gays and lesbians are not afraid to come out of the closet,” Mammen said.
“This has also helped the youth, as children with gay parents are no longer bullied; marriage legitimizes these relationships.”
Ten years later, Vermont can now look back and acknowledge the changes to society due to the passage of both the Civil Union Bill and the recent same-sex marriage legislation. Most, like Mammen, Robinson and Corbin, see only positive and beneficial changes since such enactments.
“How close could we really be with our neighbors if they couldn’t share their fundamental relationship with us?” she said. “Now it’s like, ‘So what?’Being gay is a thing of life, like having blue eyes or brown hair.”
(05/06/10 4:00am)
On Wednesday, April 28, Dana Auditorium filled to capacity as students gathered to hear from Ariel Levy, author of Female Chauvinist Pigs: Women and the Rise of Raunch Culture.
Levy is savvy, witty and brazen, and her powerful message about the prevalence of raunch culture in America captured the audience’s humor and attention.
“Raunch culture” is a term Levy coined to indicate the widespread saturation of porn, sex and “broad, silly caricatures of female sexuality” in our media, politics and entertainment. As the new millennium dawned, Levy noticed that every time she turned on the television, a stripper-themed show was on the air.
Women wore the playboy bunny emblem without a second thought. Porn stars had risen to celebrity status and Jenna Jameson’ memoir topped bestseller lists for weeks. And so in January 2001 Levy published “Me Tarzan, You Jane” in New York Magazine. Her article, which became fodder for her 2004 book, identified raunch culture and its biggest devotee: the Female Chauvinist Pig.
In her lecture, Levy defined the Female Chauvinist pig as a woman “who makes sex objects of other women and of herself.” Her book, however, offers a deeper — and more provocative — description: “We decided long ago that the Male Chauvinist Pig was an unenlightened rube, but the Female Chauvinist Pig has risen to a kind of exalted status. She is post-feminist. She is funny. She gets it. She doesn’t mind cartoonish stereotypes of female sexuality and she doesn’t mind a cartoonishly macho response to them.”
These Female Chauvinist Pigs seek to assume a stereotypically male attitude towards sex buying into a depiction of female sexuality that is simplistic and one-dimensional.
“We’re not talking about women being partners in sexual wildness,” Levy said in her lecture.
“Women are erotic ornaments. There’s an emphasis on performance, not on pleasure.”
Problematic, too, is raunch culture’s proponents’ use of feminist language to assert that they are “continuing the work of the women’s movement,” that “exhibitionism is empowerment.” As a result, raunch culture is not only “a litmus test for female uptightness,” but also a means by which women believe they can gain power.
“There’s a way in which a certain lewdness, a certain crass, casual manner that has at is core a me-Tarzan-you-Jane mentality can make people feel equal” writes Levy.
“It makes us feel that way because we are all Tarzan now, or at least we are all pretending to be.”
The lecture proved both a summary of Levy’s book and a humorous, pithy explanation of what it’s like to be on, say, the set of Girls Gone Wild for research. Levy’s magnetism worked to garner audience enthusiasm and agreement.
“I thought she was total firecracker and hilarious,” said Bianca Giaever, ’12.5.
“It was nice to have someone snappy telling it like it is.” Mukui Mbindyo ’11 agreed. “She really articulated what it means to be a feminist in 2010,” said Mbidyo.
“She talked about how far feminism has come and the areas that still need to be addressed.”
Levy is enormously culturally aware without resorting to heavy-handed intellectualism or theory. She tracked second-wave feminism’s varied attitudes toward sex and sexuality and its present cultural repercussions.
Idyllic Middlebury is by no means absent from Levy’s critique. Raunch culture reigns on the weekends, and it is perhaps empowering to get drunk and tastefully dolled up in the wee hours of J-term to simulate sex, threesomes and granola-drenched revelry for a student-produced music video.
In light of the misogyny that creeps up higher education’s ivory towers, Samantha Hernandez, ’11, deemed student receptiveness to Levy’s talk “encouraging.”
After the lecture, Chellis House overflowed with students eager to hear more from Levy who, for her part, seemed to find Middlebury students’ enthusiasm kind of strange.
“This is so weird,” she mused as a sea of upturned, eager faces clustered around her chair and waited for her to address their queries.
“It’s so awkward and formal — I feel like Mother Goose.”
Levy fielded questions ranging from her feelings on feminist blogs to her experience as a female journalist to the future of the journalism industry. She even commented on the MiddKid Rap video which, to her jaded eye, pales in comparison to porn or spring break: “It didn’t exactly shock me.”
And she admitted to not having a solution to the problems inherent in raunch culture.
“I feel like my job as a journalist or as a writer is [to say] okay, here are things in the culture that I notice and [provide] an analysis. I don’t have prescriptions. I really don’t.”
In Female Chauvinist Pigs Levy does, however, proffer some valuable advice: “If we are really going to be sexually liberated, we need to make room for a range of options as wide as the variety of human desire. We need to allow ourselves the freedom to figure out what we internally want from sex instead of mimicking whatever popular culture holds up to us as sexy. That would be sexual liberation.”
(05/06/10 4:00am)
By the time this column makes it to the dining halls, I will already have migrated to my next vessel. I am not authorized to disclose the identity of this vessel, but I can tell you there were 2,350 candidates in the running. Of this number,
90% graduated in the top 10% of their high school class
18% are eager to tell you their SAT scores
23% sneeze when they think about sex
5% have not left Ross since coming here
4% were Ron Liebowitz
97% were not Ron Liebowitz
1% were discovered to only have been posing as Ron Liebowitz
12% were friends with minorities just in case
24% prefer basil pesto
9% prefer spinach pesto
2% prefer Swiss chard pesto
2% prefer Napa cabbage pesto
0.5% prefer baked tilapia pesto
46% of Registrar’s Office employees know they are Registrar’s Office employees
38% thought you didn’t notice, but you did
11% have urinated on the tire art
6% forced themselves to start smoking
2% measure distances between buildings in cigarettes
8% know that “Paul Lewis, piano” has been playing at Middlebury since 1840; he is a vampire and battles the carillonist of Mead Chapel on Tuesdays and Sundays for Grille certificates, because he can’t eat in the dining halls while the sun is out
5% get an alternative point of view by climbing trees
10% have decided what position their middle child will play in lax
29% are excited by how close they are to running the world
27% will deny these statistics for political reasons
70% of SGA candidates are undermined by this information
0.553% love to throw “pedestrian” in there every once in a while
43% erroneously believe “juxtapose” is anywhere near as good a word
100% should try not thinking in words
14% wonder what it would be like to play a different varsity sport
4% think about their guns, because it’s proven to make them bigger
20% don’t really need the icepack
0.0004167% were overheard boasting “I’m 5 for 5 at the bunker.”
41% are way too ambitious
The cosmic holiday honoring my new vessel begins now and you are invited to celebrate, make the universe sneeze and say bless you. You have seen evidence of my previous coming etched into the desks in Twilight by other visionaries. Now it is your turn. Grab your chisels, spray cans, buckets of pig’s blood and spread the word, dumb and stealthy as a Proctor crush: “Victory forget your underwear we’re free.”
I see you,
Nick Jansen
