Eve Ensler, Sex, Compulsion, and Freedom

September 19th, 2008

I wrote about Eve Ensler, author and performer of “The Vagina Monologues,” and a talk of hers, “Finding Happiness in Body and Soul,” on TED in an earlier post. Another of her talks, “Security and Insecurity,” was recently made available, and it is equally riveting and filled with wisdom. She eloquently discusses the misguided attempts at security which lead to the creation of us-vs-them states of mind that, in fact, decrease security. If you’ve spent much time with me, you know that us-vs-them is a favorite topic of mine, talked about at length in Bare Brains Episodes Twelve and Thirteen.

Although she begins by saying she’s not going to talk about vaginas, her tales of vagina warriors near the end are highly relevant to her main topic: security/insecurity. Women must often risk their security within conventional and repressive social systems to increase their greater security in a new system that honors their rights. 

Eve’s highly laudable efforts toward educating women in their possibilities and legal protections for them, are vital to such transformations, but while she mentions the role of us-versus-them situations in her discussion of security, it doesn’t come up in her talk of the V-Day efforts. 

There is a built in us-vs-them situation in the sexual differences between women and men. These differences are magnified in societies that repress women, but are important factors, even in the most advanced. If we could understand the biological compulsions that are inherent in being a woman or man, we would have another tool in the arsenal against human suffering. 

It amazes me that women volunteer their bodies for the process of pregnancy and childbirth. To imprison yourself in the demands and inconveniences of pregnancy for nine months is a mammoth undertaking, especially when you know that the outcome is a painful birth, followed by a recovery period that can, with complications, last for the rest of your life. Is it any wonder that women are compelled, both biologically, socially, and psychologically, to carefully choose their partner in this endeavor? 

The compulsion to approach reproduction with caution is powerful, and one which, in my limited experience, many women themselves feel rebellious toward. This rebellion results in some women finding fantasies of rape sexually exciting, even though rape in reality is feared and avoided. With someone they trust, they may openly invite and apparently enjoy pretended rape: In being overwhelmed by force, they are temporarily freed from the constraints of caution.  In extreme cases, this rebellion against compulsion may lead women to put themselves in risky situations where rape is a real possibility.

Men, on the other hand, have strong biological compulsions toward reproduction, but without the compulsion of caution. They feel compelled to disseminate their DNA as widely as possible, and let someone else worry about the aftermath. They are often restrained by social conventions, fortunately, but more problematically, they find themselves in a struggle with women, who control access to the object of male compulsion: sex. He says, “Yes,” she says, “No,” and while she often feels resentment and hostility toward his pressure, he feels resentment and hostility toward her reluctance. It is not a situation designed for harmony; it is exactly the kind of us-vs them situation that Eve so eloquently points to as the cause of much insecurity and hostility in general human affairs.

In my case, I was taught as a child that my penis was a disgusting thing, and later, that seminal fluids were the ultimate contaminant. In my early relations with women, their caution gave further proof that my body was disgusting. When I finally encountered women who wanted sex, I was faced with the odd fact of their desire for what had previously been reinforced as repulsive–confusing, to say the least. I have since learned to love this peculiar contraption that has brought me such pleasure and anxiety, but the re-orchestration of my attitudes was not easy or rapid. There were times when I felt outright hostility toward women for what I experienced as rejection and disdain. Rape fantasies and stories of rape were, indeed, sexually exciting; although, fortunately, my inhibitions were well established. 

When I came to understand the biological causes of our sex-related compulsions, the knowledge gained became a new cause in determining my behavior, and my hostility evaporated. I could see that neither women nor men volunteered to be saddled with their respective compulsions, and that we all deserved compassion.

It may be impossible, for now, to disseminate this kind of naturalistic, evolutionary understanding of behavior very widely, but science and the internet march on, and there is hope.

News! Episode One of the Bare Brains podcast is now available as text, searchable and easily quotable. There’s a link in the sidebar, and right here.

Protection, Rejection, Isolation

Protection, Rejection, Isolation

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As Good As It Gets

September 15th, 2008

 

This is as good as it gets.” That was the thought that occurred to me as I was settling into the recliner for a nap, and it gave me a huge laugh. I’m going to explain the cause for laughter Southern style, but if you get bored you can scroll to the end.

After I retired, I was only driving my old 1984 Volvo a couple of times a month; almost everything I need is within walking distance. When Zipcars became available in my neighborhood last year, I decided I could rent if I really needed a car, and I could get rid of the Volvo. California has an early retirement program for old cars, paying $650 and then crushing them.

Still, walking takes time, and most of my errands took me along busy streets, where I was breathing more exhaust than I would like, even though Oakland’s air is fairly clean by urban standards, what with breezes coming in off the bay. Being a little something of a techno-geek, I was looking for a green bridge vehicle between walking and driving, and last summer, after much deliberation, I put together an electric bicycle, on which I got a couple of rides before it was stolen. 

I had ridden the bike just enough to learn that I didn’t feel comfortable riding it on the street, which ruled out electric scooters and motorcycles, which I had also been considering. I decided to get rid of the Volvo anyway, which I did last September. I bought a wonderful little tagalong shopping cart, and found I almost never needed to rent a car. 

But by April of this year, it started bothering me that walking everywhere was eating into my creative time, and there was still the pollution issue. I had ruled out the Segway in my earlier deliberations because of the expense, but there was a dealer across the lake from me, Segway of Oakland, and after taking a tour on one, I decided to spring for it.

I’ve had it almost five months now, and I love it. Besides cutting down the time it takes to get around the ‘hood, I range a little further than I would if I were walking: over to Piedmont, Rockridge, and even a couple of times to the Home Depot in Emeryville. I’ve also taken it on BART over to the city a few times, and gone further than I ever did just walking.

In addition, the more I rode it, the more comfortable I became with it, and the more fun it was to ride, which, unfortunately, led to my current condition.

I had been to the gym, so was a little tired–maybe less alert than usual–and was on my way to Ace Hardware when I encountered a car parked in a driveway, blocking the sidewalk. It’s legal to ride a Segway on the street, but I prefer sidewalks, both to avoid traffic and because it’s more fun with the little hazards I have to avoid. To get around the car, I would have to get one wheel in the dirt and go over a little curb, and the further from the car I got, the higher the curb. My brain decided to get as close to the car as possible, but it miscalculated, and I was going too fast. The right wheel of the Segway didn’t quite clear the underside of the car’s bumper, and when it hit, it stopped, catapulting me onto the concrete. 

I have a very clear memory of everything up to the point of contact with the bumper, but there is a total blank from that moment to the one where I found myself on my left side in the driveway, propped on my left forearm–which apparently took most of the force of impact–watching the Segway roll down the sidewalk till it tilted forward and crashed, unharmed. I have no sensation of flying through the air, no image of the approaching concrete, and no feeling of contact when I landed. It seems very strange to me to have such an experience with absolutely no mental record–oh well…

I got up and dusted myself off as I walked over to retrieve the Segway, and while my left arm was mildly uncomfortable, there was no indication of injury. I finished my errand, and went home to examine myself more closely.

I had some very mild abrasions on my forearm, and that arm was still  a little uncomfortable, but I seemed not much the worse for it till the next day, and the day after, and for three weeks now. It seems I strained every muscle in that arm, upper and lower, and a bruise appeared that wrapped around my elbow and down several inches of the forearm. Over time the bruise went from blue, to orange, to now, a pale yellow. At first, I had a very limited range of pain-free motion, but the arm works fairly normally now except for a limited capacity to bear weight without pain, and some twisting motions of the wrist that bring a jab in one particular forearm muscle.

So as I was settling into my chair for a nap, I did so with ice packs on the upper and lower sides of the left forearm–I ice it down a couple or three times a day, which helps. And yet, I felt blissfully happy, which is my most frequent state of mind, and that’s when “This is as good as it gets,” popped into consciousness, in full sincerity, with no hint of irony, which, I think, is why it brought on laughter.

I have been laughing a lot since the accident, every time I feel a jolt of pain. Even though I would very much prefer not to have that experience, somehow it seems amusing. I would so much prefer not having it that I have been riding much more cautiously these last three weeks. Fortunately, riding the Segway doesn’t require any of the force or movements that cause pain, and I’ve been riding it on my errands, as usual. Riding carefully, and more slowly, is not as much fun, but I realize that I was lucky. I could have broken bones, with any number of more serious injuries than I actually have.

I have probably talked more about adapting to changed circumstances in Bare Brains, particularly Episodes Five and Six, than I have written about here, but briefly: we are all going to get old, if we’re lucky, losing various abilities along the way, culminating in frailty of one kind or another and death. While we have a tendency to pretend that we’ll stay young forever, science hasn’t progressed that far yet, and in the meantime, learning to adapt to loss is conducive to happiness. 

If I never recover from the accident any more than I have so far, I will be happy. I’ve been practicing…

 

Youth and Age

Youth and Age

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