Will you be in the Hoxton area this evening? Do you have a vagina, or know someone who does? Well, tonight I’ll be doing a talk on strap-on sex at Fannying Around (the monthly muff-owners’ club I mentioned on here last month). Despite what the website blurb says, strapping on a strap-on has nothing to do with penis envy. Having marvellous lady bits and a selection of phallic accessories to wear when I choose is preferable to the limitations of an unpredictable flesh-stick. Anyway, I digress… Fanny club tonight! Be there, ladies!
Last night, on an Informed Consent forum, someone posted a link to an intriguing Guardian article about forensic psychotherapy. The piece was from 2008. It quickly and inevitably escalated into a flame war.
However, despite the furore of the thread, I think that the article does bring up some important points. We should certainly be concerned that some psychoanalysts – both three years ago, and now – still equate the seriousness of consensual BDSM, fetish and trans issues with rape and paedophilia, just as homosexuality once was.
One therapist quoted in the article speaks of “transvestites and transsexuals, and people who practise bondage and other sexual fetishes”. I respect that he appears not to be saying that these people are doing anything wrong, but that instead the problem is with what these activities may be helping each individual avoid: “They come here because the desired effect of those things, what they were intended to do, has started to break down, usually when they’re in their thirties. The papering over the cracks that those practices fulfilled is no longer working.”
Yet we all have “cracks”*, however kinky or vanilla our desires may be, and isn’t any act of pleasure or distraction just a way of “papering over” them? Nobody is without problems. A kink shouldn’t be seen as any different to any other form of pulse-quickening escapism.
If we like watching a bit of telly or participating in sport, are we told that it’s just a way of avoiding deep, unexamined issues with our parents, or the school bully, or our own sense of gender and status? Much as it’s good to question yourself on every aspect of your life now and then, it shouldn’t be at the expense of every form of fun. Just because a person enjoys consensual kink (or telly, or sport) and doesn’t spend every minute of every day dissecting and condemning it, it doesn’t make them any less sane than anyone else.
*(fnarrr, I know, but I meant the symbolic kind)
Graun article here.
IC thread here.
So, the royal wedding then… The Huffington Post’s Facebook feed announced this morning that “Jerry Seinfeld just shook up all of Britain with his live TV comments” whilst appearing on ITV’s Daybreak.
Sadly, the HuffPo seems unaware that the UK doesn’t actually care about the royal wedding, Seinfeld commentary or not. Nobody except the Daily Mail reacted to “the biggest American shakeup since Thomas Jefferson’s 1776 declaration” with anything but blank-faced, recession-hollowed apathy. I’d imagine that most people in the UK agree with Seinfeld’s analysis of the event as “a circus”. Two rich people that few of us have ever met, or have any interest in meeting, are getting married. I’m yet to meet anyone other than tourists or sellers of commemorative tat who are the least bit excited about this. The politico-economic situation in the UK is currently so dire that the press and government are trying to convey collective euphoria to the rest of the world, urging us not only to polish a turd, but to decorate it with bunting and throw a street party in its squashed, stinking, fly-blown footprint.
I can reassure our international friends, and Jerry Seinfeld, that Britain doesn’t give a fisted fuck about the royal wedding. However, this doesn’t stop news outlets spunking out wedding-themed cockfoolery to entertain the miserable hoi polloi. Yahoo has an entire site section dedicated to the royal wedding. The collection of “Awfully Photoshopped Russian Wedding Photos” here is intriguing in that so many of them seem to invoke the macrophilia fetish, as well as hints at a high-heeled crushing by the giantess bride. Is this the work of one lone macrophile photographer? Or is it a common occurrence in wedding albums, a sly, symbolic, digitally-manipulated depiction of a male being downtrodden and belittled by his spouse? The pictures here aren’t credited so we’ll probably never know.