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(01/20/16 7:18pm)
Dear Editors,
I’m writing today to discuss the role that the Student Government Association (SGA) plays in addressing sexual and relationship respect. Last year, after a series of conversations with other institutions in the Northeast, the SGA decided to increase its commitment to promoting sexual & relationship respect here at Middlebury. This Thursday, January 28th, the SGA will co-host an Atwater dinner on these issues alongside It Happens Here and JusTalks. Over the past several months, President Gratch and others have met with a number of stakeholders on these topics, and have developed three guiding questions for students to explore alongside one another as we move forward: (1) What is our current culture surrounding sex and relationships at Middlebury, (2) What is the culture that we want, and (3) How do we get there?
We want to emphasize that these three questions are merely starting points for this dialogue, and that asking these questions will demand sustained follow up from administrators, the SGA, and students alike. We are not looking to tell one synchronized story about sex and relationships at Midd; as students with different identities and life experiences, we all bring different perspectives and lenses to the table on these issues. We are, however, interested in learning from one another, in deepening our sense of commitment to this community, and in beginning the process of establishing sexual and relationship norms on this campus.
Following in the footsteps of President Patton’s recent comments, including her thoughts on restorative justice as well as the value of having difficult conversations, the SGA wants to continue to host campus dialogues on sexual & relationship respect beyond the Atwater dinner. We are of the belief that envisioning a healthier, safer Middlebury requires not only looking forward, but also having frank discussions about where we are at today.
Whether you were able to RSVP for the upcoming Atwater dinner or not, we want you to know that the SGA is committed to continuing these conversations. Please feel free to reach out to myself, your Senators, or President Gratch in the coming months with any input or initiatives that you may have.
Respectfully Submitted,
Maddie Orcutt, Class of 2016
SGA Director of Sexual & Relationship Respect
(10/15/15 2:35am)
Written in response to Josh Berlowitz’s “Dear CCI: Cease and Desist”
In last week’s addition of the Campus, Josh Berlowitz (’16) wrote an op-ed that was framed as a cease and desist letter to the Center for Careers and Internships (CCI). I was slightly perplexed that days after Josh’s op-ed was published, we both found ourselves at a discussion regarding careers in law (an event which, I should note, was co-sponsored by the CCI). To be certain, I empathize with the stresses of job searches, particularly among current seniors. Yet I worry that Josh’s letter is em- blematic of a larger trend at Middlebury, where students criticize particular offices or “the administration” as monolithic entities. To be certain, I’ve been extremely guilty of this in the not-so-recent past. But if there’s anything that I’ve learned during my last year at Middlebury, it’s that such totalizing logics ignore the kind, compassionate and helpful staff members and administrators that are part of this community.
Josh is a friend of mine, and I’m truly sorry that he hasn’t had luck with the CCI of late. But drawing such a strong conclusion based on a few personal experiences is irresponsible. I’ll be the first person to stand up and acknowledge that the CCI has, in the past, spent quite a bit of its resources on the finance and consulting sectors. But during my four years at Middlebury, I’ve also seen a lot of progress. I found my summer internship with a non-profit on MOJO, and I had a wonderful experience. Like Josh, I guarantee that I will never “sell my soul” to Goldman or McKinsey. Yet unlike Josh, I also realize that for some students, financial security after graduation is an absolute necessity. Valuing education in and of itself sounds great, but that’s also quite the luxury. There’s nothing wrong with waiting tables or making great lattes. There’s also nothing wrong with wanting something different and leveraging the re- sources of this institution to do that.
With some time and effort, I’ve been able to find my own support at Middlebury. I’ll never be the stereotypical “MiddKid,” but I’ve made this journey my own with the help of so many members of this community, including my advisors in the CCI. I’ve received encouragement from Tim Mosehauer in the CCI when thinking about law school. I’ve had several meaningful conversations with Tracy Isham about careers in the common good. I’ve spent hours working with Lisa Gates in the fellowships office learning how to best ar- ticulate my interests. I’ve received sound life advice from my Dean when I’ve needed it most. I admire Sue Ritter in ways that I couldn’t possibly begin to describe.
To be certain, there are plenty of things that I’d like to change at this insti- tution. But rather than raging against is- sue areas that don’t seem particularly pertinent to my Middlebury journey, I find myself practicing gratitude. When I don’t like a particular institutional structure or office, I focus on the nodes where my voice is heard. When I have an issue with someone, I now take time to reflect upon whether I should call them in or call them out. But even on my worst day, I’m thank- ful that I have all of these resources at my disposal — good, bad or indifferent. And as my Middlebury journey is drawing to a close, I’m grateful that I’ve had the opportunity to open or delete so many emails.
(04/29/15 5:59pm)
Instead of publishing student stories this week, I’m using this space to write about student activism on Twitter. This column will continue to serve as a platform for your personal narratives, so please keep on sharing them! At the same time, however, I think our expectations surrounding sex in college are also the product our engagement with campus culture more broadly. I’m convinced that what happens — or does not happen — in our dorm rooms is only a small part of the story.
(04/16/15 1:35am)
I had met him at the beginning of the summer and could tell very quickly that he was different. Since then, we’d worked alongside one another, hiked together and browsed western art galleries together, discovering our mutual love of the great Rocky Mountains and being in the moment. So one night a few weeks into summer, when, after an evening at the local bar, we found ourselves kissing on the couch in our dorm, I wasn’t surprised.
A week later, we were lying on a queen bed made only with a fitted sheet in a room barely big enough to fit it. The bed was located off an industrial kitchen and the main common room for the program we were working for. It was the only place we could shut the door on our students and other co-workers at night. The only room with a lock, it was appropriately nicknamed the “Personal Time” room.
We moved in closer to each other, his hands gently under the base of my shirt. They went no higher. He paused, looked me in the eyes and asked, “Can I take this off?” I’d never been asked so genuinely before by a guy to take my shirt off when clearly I wanted him to. I blushed, a little taken aback. It continued.
Every item of clothing, “Can I take this off?” Soon we were both naked and even then he asked. “Do you want to have sex?” and the line every girl wants to hear, “I have a condom.” I said yes. For the next several times after that, and even often now, almost a year later, he asks. And every time, it is still sexy.
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I am lucky to say that my sexual encounters at Middlebury have been overall positive, fun experiences. Though like many things at Middlebury, my sexploits on our secluded idyllic campus haven’t prepared me for what I would encounter in the “real world.”
Case in point: my current semester abroad in Istanbul. While living in another country, I’ve realized that the customs surrounding dating, relationships and sex (not to mention the overall treatment of and outlook on women) differ greatly from what I’ve ever previously experienced.
During my first few weeks here, some American girls and I started hanging out with three Turkish guys that were friends with Middlebury students from past semesters. One night while out at a particularly expansive club, I ventured to my own area of the dance floor without my friends. Suddenly one of our Turkish acquaintances was there, and we started dancing. There wasn’t much of a discussion; he initiated, and I didn’t object. We danced and made out for a bit, but I wasn’t really into it. I also knew I wouldn’t be taking things further so early in the semester, so I slipped away to regroup with my friends.
Fast forward to the following weekend: we went to another club with the same guys. As soon as I stepped onto the dance floor, my dance partner moved into position, about a foot behind me. I wasn’t interested, so I scooted a few feet to the left; so did he. I danced my way to the other side of the circle; he followed. With that, I went to claim a spot on a narrow tabletop across the club.
After a few similar experiences, a girlfriend of mine and I took Oaths of Celibacy for the remainder of the semester. I have since mastered my line for nights of clubbing in Istanbul: “No thanks, I’m dancing with myself tonight.”
(03/18/15 5:40pm)
The discussion of abstinence in church youth group filled my mind with scenes from “Footloose,” with conservative pastors and teachers telling me that sex is the devil’s playground and invoking city council meetings to preserve my generation’s sexual purity.
As a Christian, I’ve chosen abstinence until if or when I get married. When I arrived as a freshman, I was aware of the stereotypes around social life and sex on campus and wondered if, being in a new place of vulnerability and freedom, my view on abstinence would change.
My choice is not motivated by the fear of upsetting my spiritual family, the worry of negative sex experiences or religious conservatism.
I do not think that such motivations for abstinence are bad, but they aren’t primary. Rather, I’ve chosen abstinence out of God’s love for me.
When and if I do have sex, I want it to be with someone who fully knows, sees and loves me. Someone who won’t value me just for what my body can offer or how I can satisfy him; someone whose affections for me won’t change based on my performance or attitude.
Christianity describes our relationship with God like this. In scandalous terms, the Bible depicts God as a lover – one who really sees, understands, and desires to know us intimately – not for what we can offer or how we can please Him, but simply because He loves us. Sex, a naturally good desire and act, is a representation of this intimacy with God.
For these reasons, my choice for abstinence is motivated by the faith that God’s love alone can completely satisfy me. It’s not easy and it certainly isn’t popular, but for now I am content to know that my worth or identity is not defined by sex.
I was pet sitting. The first time S came over to the house, we talked for hours. We had great chemistry, but no one made a move. I decided to cut to the chase.
“It’s late, and you’re welcome to spend the night. There’s a spare room upstairs, or you can sleep with me. The choice is yours, S. Zero pressure.”
“Your room, if that’s okay.”
We climbed under the covers, each plastered to opposite edges of the bed. I was so confused and frustrated. And horny. Uncharacteristically bold, I made another, not-so-subtle move.
“S, can I give you a kiss before we go to bed?”
“THANK GOD. I thought you’d never say anything.”
At some point in that long night, I realized that I had forgotten what I was really in this house for… pet sitting. I snuck my way out of S’s arms and headed out in the dark to let the dogs out.
SQUISH.
I stepped in a pile of dog shit. I let out a frustrated groan. I could hear S waking up and rustling in the sheets.
“You okay?”
“Please don’t come out here. I just stepped in dog shit. This is so embarrassing.”
“Can I help you?”
“No thanks. Please just go back to bed.”
I cleaned up the mess and decided to hop in the shower. A couple of minutes in, the door knob turned. This time, S made the first move.
“Mind if I join you?”
S and I hooked up for several weeks, and it was always casual. In retrospect, we were both making sense of profound pain elsewhere in our lives.
For me, stepping in dog shit was a metaphorical beginning: S and I took the shit that life had dealt us, and in that little old house, one shower at a time, we outgrew our sorrow, and eventually, each other. I regret nothing.
Here are two selections for this week. Published bi-weekly in The Campus, Great Sexpectations hopes to increase sex positive dialogue through storytelling.
Please keep sending your embarrasing, funny, positive stories about sex to greatsexpectations@aol.com. Submissions are published on a rolling basis.
(03/04/15 6:53pm)
It was a Sunday afternoon like any other, and I found myself sitting in a Proctor booth chatting with some good friends about sex in college. During my time at Middlebury, I’ve really enjoyed the authenticity of such conversations:
“Neither of us came, but it is still a
great memory.”
“It took me 21 years to have an orgasm with a partner.”
“Threesomes.”
“I was just too tired...”
“That’s weird, right?”
“I’m not playing that game.”
“It was casual, but consent was still
really important.”
“OMG THE NOISES.”
I think that the reason my friends and I are able to discuss sex so bluntly has to do with the fact that we deeply trust one another. We have created a space for ourselves where we can openly admit that sometimes our
(s)expectations do not align with our lived realities. From my point of view, there is a huge void on this campus when it comes to sex positivity, and I would like to change that.
This column is my attempt to foster conversations about consensual sexuality among a wider Middlebury audience. My goal is simple: to create a space where Middlebury students can learn through the anonymous (s)experiences of their peers. So I have set up an email account (greatsexpectations@aol.com) where students can submit stories about sex in college. Each week, I will select one or two stories, which will be anonymously published in that week’s edition of the Campus.
This column is YOUR column; I’m merely the moderator. This column will be an inclusive, supportive space that welcomes a variety of identifications and experiences. And if you identify as asexual or abstinent, I would love to (anonymously) share your
perspectives, too.
If you want to anonymously add your voice to this conversation, please submit a 300-word story to greatsexpectations@aol.com. When you are sharing, please make note of how consent functioned in your story, even if that is just in a sentence or two (because it is so important!). I look forward to reading and publishing your submissions each week, and to kick off this adventure, here’s an anonymous story from a current Middlebury student (who is also the most honest sexual storyteller I have ever met):
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Two summers ago, I was working on the Appalachian Trail, giving out trail information and telling people to stop waiting around at moose crossing signs. Most of the people I hung out with were young twenty-somethings who lived in the woods, or else thru-hikers that had been hiking for months. In other words, the place was a sexual
tension minefield.
One evening, my friend and I hiked to a nearby campsite where we were soon joined by two thru-hikers, Veggie Tales and Brightside. Before long we were playing cards and listening to their stories about the trail.
At some point, I became aware of Brightside’s knee against mine. Before I knew it, our friends had gone to bed and we were left alone. After half a second of small talk, I leaned over to kiss him, but as I did so I was a hit by a smell so acrid and pungent I could not bridge the gap. He noticed my hesitation and explained that in his excitement at the prospect of hanging out with (cleanish) girls he had bathed himself with bottle of full strength bug spray, hoping to mask his body odor. I was touched by the gesture, or maybe a little high from the DEET, and decided to check “hook up with a thru-hiker” off my bucket list.
We made out for a while, and then Brightside made it clear he wanted to do more. Making out was fun, but I started to imagine lichen growing on this guy’s pubes and decided to call it quits. Despite being desperately horny, Brightside did not push it. He kissed my cheek and went to bed. Now on hikes that seem impossibly long or heinously buggy, I remember our encounter and laugh, and remind myself to always look on the bright side.