REVIEWS : NON-FICTION
Within the pages of Female Chauvinist Pigs (2005), journalist Ariel Levy deftly takes apart the phenomenon she identifies as “raunch culture”: the kind of sensationalist mindset that celebrates both the spirit and aesthetics of pornography (in general) and the US sex industry (in particular). This doesn’t necessarily refer to graphic, hardcore porno only; it also includes the variety of cultural practices that are influenced by the sex industry, writ large, from teen cosmetic surgery intended to replicate silicone bustlines, to “cardio striptease” aerobics, and Jenna Jameson’s lucrative cult of personality.
Levy’s intent is to provide a skeptic’s view of raunch culture, from a youthful, feminist perspective, without resorting to over-simplistic blame games, or self-righteous moralistic hand-wringing. She gives readers a convincing account of the different ways that raunch culture has infiltrated mass sensibilities, and presents real-world examples of its possible negative after-effects (including several first-hand accounts).
Mars as a Girl?
In the process, Levy’s readers are introduced to smart, college-educated girls who agree to go topless in Girls Gone Wild videos, for the sake of momentary attention, despite the fact that they know better. We meet Christie Hefner, daughter of the founder of Playboy magazine, who was then CEO and President of its vast media empire; she doesn’t see any contradiction between her chosen profession and her self-identification as an empowered woman, who concurrently presided over a foundation dedicated to helping young female achievers from under-privileged communities. We also encounter a lady writer for the mock-sexist cable program The Man Show, who regards the acceptance of such satirical programming as evidence of feminism’s triumph; that is, women have advanced so far in Western society, they can comfortably laugh along with “faux-sexist” humor, without hang-ups or insecurities. Their overall message is clear: never mind gender-based income differences, or the persistence of sexual violence – if women can engage in witty “green” banter and fart jokes, then feminism must have done something right.
These distaff defenders of raunch culture are branded Female Chauvinist Pigs. And their influence is glossing over the ill effects of this new porn hegemony, because of the profits that stand to be earned from its various forms.
All Is Full of Lust
This is worrying, Levy argues, because raunch culture is reshaping our notions about desirability, attraction, and what is labeled “sexy” in mainstream pop consciousness. While it may be slowly displacing unhealthy, prudish attitudes towards sexuality, it also urges women and men alike to value certain warped ideals of desire (think rail– thin blonde heiress/amateur sex video queen Paris Hilton). It also makes one wonder what Levy might think of the celebrity status achieved by self-proclaimed feminist porn icon Sasha Grey, whose brisk rise to fame happened after this book was published.
One might be tempted to assume that raunch is primarily an American concern –– and indeed, the majority of Levy’s points are culled from her experiences as a freelance journalist and researcher in the US. However, it’s not much of a stretch to recognize how they can be given a Filipino spin. Jenna Jameson’s success is mirrored in that of Asia Agcaoili, with her well–received sex advice columns, and profitable line of Sex Guru instructional videos. The Philippine edition of “lad mag” FHM has a woman, Lou Albano, as its Managing Editor. And how else might one explain the proliferation of a variety of amateur local “scandal videos”, allegedly featuring both celebs and ‘ordinary people’ of all sexualities?
All of these examples offer us the illusion of sexual freedom, because they embrace the unrestrained nature of the mainstream sex industry; it’s the free market version of a gud taym. And yet, as Levy warns us, this may end up limiting the scope of our sexual desires to those which are most readily sellable. Call it “McSexuality” (my term, not Levy’s), with the full complexity of human carnal appetites reduced to a handful of combo deals: “One Barely Legal with a side order of Creampie, coming up”.
Indeed, we may slowly be freeing ourselves from the restraints of Maria Clara style repression (well, in the bedroom, at least). However, it seems that idealizing the Whore can be just as restrictive as idealizing the Virgin.
State Of Emergency?
What’s potentially more insidious than this porn-approved menu of sexual options is what raunch culture leaves out: the necessary conditions for having safe, informed, or responsible sex. And really... why not? Porn is an industry, not an advocacy. Raunch culture is ultimately involved with pleasing consumers while maximizing its audience share. Viewers aren’t expected to learn how to have quality sex from watching porno movies, any more than they could learn about handling guns or explosives by watching a Michael Bay or Jerry Bruckheimer blockbuster. If (a) our libidos are duly stoked, and (b) we’ve paid for the ‘intellectual property’ (legitimately and otherwise), then the good folks at Vivid Entertainment or Bang Bros have done exactly what they set out to do.
Yet it’s crucial to gauge the influence of raunch culture alongside certain disturbing social trends involving Filipinos’ sex lives. Dr. Edsel Salvana of the Department of Science and Technology (DOST) claims that incidences of AIDS and HIV infection have currently reached an epidemic level in the country. There was a massive spike in reported cases in the last five years, from 199 in 2004, up to 629 in October 2009. This timeframe neatly fits the ascendancy of raunch culture documented in Levy’s book. Granted, it seems neither fair nor particularly rational to hold raunch culture (and ourselves, as its consumers) wholly responsible for these worrying statistics. Nevertheless, it raises a valid point about whether we’re willing to supplement our “alternative sex education” with the knowledge of how to act responsibly on our basest desires.
Human Behavior
For argument’s sake, let’s say the answer is ‘yes’. It still begs another crucial question: are there enough resources out there to keep us suitably informed to maintain active, healthy sex lives? Let’s consider the options. At the most commercial end of the spectrum, we have the recent TV advertisements featuring actor – and erstwhile Bad Boy – Robin Padilla endorsing a particular condom brand. The ads frame his decision to use the contraceptive device as an example of New Pinoy Masculinity, rejecting acts of dangerous machismo, without sacrificing either libidinous appeal or a sense of one’s manhood.
Then we have more thorough resources like the Sex And Sensibilities (SAS), a local online resource that bills itself as “a trusted haven to get practical information about sex”. It ostensibly aims to put the “SASsiness” back into sex education, without resorting to either sensationalized come-ons or dry, overly clinical facts. The site’s self- proclaimed SASsy Editorial Board is spearheaded by educators with genuine credentials, including founder Ana Santos, a sexual health advocate with years of writing experience for publications like Women’s Health Philippines and The Manila Times. And yet for all of Santos’ self-styled Carrie Bradshaw-esque bravura, Sex And Sensibility is not about her cult of personality. It exists to address Filipinos’ concerns about their sexuality “with compassion, intelligence, and most importantly, always with honesty and respect for your choice”. The Editorial Board’s professional experience is really a means to facilitate that end.
And of course, no discussion of contemporary Pinoy sexual health would be complete without mentioning Secretary Esperanza Cabral of the Department of Health. She attributes the failure to curb HIV/AIDS cases in the Philippines to the Catholic Church’s opposition to condom use, particularly among young couples. Her Department was met with fierce resistance from religious groups for distributing free condoms to shoppers at the Dangwa flower market in Manila, on Valentine’s Day. And yet, she herself has also experienced a groundswell of support from an online community, in the form of a Facebook Fan Page simply titled “We support Sec. Esperanza Cabral for curbing HIV and unwanted pregnancies”. The Page already has an excess of 1,000 self identified Fans of Sec. Cabral. Furthermore, a quick glance at its demographics reveals a membership composed mostly of young urban professionals – precisely the social group identified by The University of the Philippines Population Institute as having experienced the largest increase in reported HIV/AIDS cases in 2009.
Given our situation as it is, with the possible dearth of resources on sexual health, should there be an organized effort to stop unbridled access to the products of raunch culture? Or can we trust ourselves to make a distinction between responsible sexual habits and the fantasies of our id (as well as the cultural products developed to capitalize on them)? For now, the issue remains open to (mass) debate.
BIG TIME SEXUALITY
Ariel Levy offers an in-depth critique of American raunch culture. Why should any of this matter to Pinoy readers?
originally published by Metakritiko, March 2010
Within the pages of Female Chauvinist Pigs (2005), journalist Ariel Levy deftly takes apart the phenomenon she identifies as “raunch culture”: the kind of sensationalist mindset that celebrates both the spirit and aesthetics of pornography (in general) and the US sex industry (in particular). This doesn’t necessarily refer to graphic, hardcore porno only; it also includes the variety of cultural practices that are influenced by the sex industry, writ large, from teen cosmetic surgery intended to replicate silicone bustlines, to “cardio striptease” aerobics, and Jenna Jameson’s lucrative cult of personality.
Levy’s intent is to provide a skeptic’s view of raunch culture, from a youthful, feminist perspective, without resorting to over-simplistic blame games, or self-righteous moralistic hand-wringing. She gives readers a convincing account of the different ways that raunch culture has infiltrated mass sensibilities, and presents real-world examples of its possible negative after-effects (including several first-hand accounts).
Mars as a Girl?
In the process, Levy’s readers are introduced to smart, college-educated girls who agree to go topless in Girls Gone Wild videos, for the sake of momentary attention, despite the fact that they know better. We meet Christie Hefner, daughter of the founder of Playboy magazine, who was then CEO and President of its vast media empire; she doesn’t see any contradiction between her chosen profession and her self-identification as an empowered woman, who concurrently presided over a foundation dedicated to helping young female achievers from under-privileged communities. We also encounter a lady writer for the mock-sexist cable program The Man Show, who regards the acceptance of such satirical programming as evidence of feminism’s triumph; that is, women have advanced so far in Western society, they can comfortably laugh along with “faux-sexist” humor, without hang-ups or insecurities. Their overall message is clear: never mind gender-based income differences, or the persistence of sexual violence – if women can engage in witty “green” banter and fart jokes, then feminism must have done something right.
These distaff defenders of raunch culture are branded Female Chauvinist Pigs. And their influence is glossing over the ill effects of this new porn hegemony, because of the profits that stand to be earned from its various forms.
All Is Full of Lust
This is worrying, Levy argues, because raunch culture is reshaping our notions about desirability, attraction, and what is labeled “sexy” in mainstream pop consciousness. While it may be slowly displacing unhealthy, prudish attitudes towards sexuality, it also urges women and men alike to value certain warped ideals of desire (think rail– thin blonde heiress/amateur sex video queen Paris Hilton). It also makes one wonder what Levy might think of the celebrity status achieved by self-proclaimed feminist porn icon Sasha Grey, whose brisk rise to fame happened after this book was published.
One might be tempted to assume that raunch is primarily an American concern –– and indeed, the majority of Levy’s points are culled from her experiences as a freelance journalist and researcher in the US. However, it’s not much of a stretch to recognize how they can be given a Filipino spin. Jenna Jameson’s success is mirrored in that of Asia Agcaoili, with her well–received sex advice columns, and profitable line of Sex Guru instructional videos. The Philippine edition of “lad mag” FHM has a woman, Lou Albano, as its Managing Editor. And how else might one explain the proliferation of a variety of amateur local “scandal videos”, allegedly featuring both celebs and ‘ordinary people’ of all sexualities?
All of these examples offer us the illusion of sexual freedom, because they embrace the unrestrained nature of the mainstream sex industry; it’s the free market version of a gud taym. And yet, as Levy warns us, this may end up limiting the scope of our sexual desires to those which are most readily sellable. Call it “McSexuality” (my term, not Levy’s), with the full complexity of human carnal appetites reduced to a handful of combo deals: “One Barely Legal with a side order of Creampie, coming up”.
Indeed, we may slowly be freeing ourselves from the restraints of Maria Clara style repression (well, in the bedroom, at least). However, it seems that idealizing the Whore can be just as restrictive as idealizing the Virgin.
State Of Emergency?
What’s potentially more insidious than this porn-approved menu of sexual options is what raunch culture leaves out: the necessary conditions for having safe, informed, or responsible sex. And really... why not? Porn is an industry, not an advocacy. Raunch culture is ultimately involved with pleasing consumers while maximizing its audience share. Viewers aren’t expected to learn how to have quality sex from watching porno movies, any more than they could learn about handling guns or explosives by watching a Michael Bay or Jerry Bruckheimer blockbuster. If (a) our libidos are duly stoked, and (b) we’ve paid for the ‘intellectual property’ (legitimately and otherwise), then the good folks at Vivid Entertainment or Bang Bros have done exactly what they set out to do.
Yet it’s crucial to gauge the influence of raunch culture alongside certain disturbing social trends involving Filipinos’ sex lives. Dr. Edsel Salvana of the Department of Science and Technology (DOST) claims that incidences of AIDS and HIV infection have currently reached an epidemic level in the country. There was a massive spike in reported cases in the last five years, from 199 in 2004, up to 629 in October 2009. This timeframe neatly fits the ascendancy of raunch culture documented in Levy’s book. Granted, it seems neither fair nor particularly rational to hold raunch culture (and ourselves, as its consumers) wholly responsible for these worrying statistics. Nevertheless, it raises a valid point about whether we’re willing to supplement our “alternative sex education” with the knowledge of how to act responsibly on our basest desires.
Human Behavior
For argument’s sake, let’s say the answer is ‘yes’. It still begs another crucial question: are there enough resources out there to keep us suitably informed to maintain active, healthy sex lives? Let’s consider the options. At the most commercial end of the spectrum, we have the recent TV advertisements featuring actor – and erstwhile Bad Boy – Robin Padilla endorsing a particular condom brand. The ads frame his decision to use the contraceptive device as an example of New Pinoy Masculinity, rejecting acts of dangerous machismo, without sacrificing either libidinous appeal or a sense of one’s manhood.
Then we have more thorough resources like the Sex And Sensibilities (SAS), a local online resource that bills itself as “a trusted haven to get practical information about sex”. It ostensibly aims to put the “SASsiness” back into sex education, without resorting to either sensationalized come-ons or dry, overly clinical facts. The site’s self- proclaimed SASsy Editorial Board is spearheaded by educators with genuine credentials, including founder Ana Santos, a sexual health advocate with years of writing experience for publications like Women’s Health Philippines and The Manila Times. And yet for all of Santos’ self-styled Carrie Bradshaw-esque bravura, Sex And Sensibility is not about her cult of personality. It exists to address Filipinos’ concerns about their sexuality “with compassion, intelligence, and most importantly, always with honesty and respect for your choice”. The Editorial Board’s professional experience is really a means to facilitate that end.
And of course, no discussion of contemporary Pinoy sexual health would be complete without mentioning Secretary Esperanza Cabral of the Department of Health. She attributes the failure to curb HIV/AIDS cases in the Philippines to the Catholic Church’s opposition to condom use, particularly among young couples. Her Department was met with fierce resistance from religious groups for distributing free condoms to shoppers at the Dangwa flower market in Manila, on Valentine’s Day. And yet, she herself has also experienced a groundswell of support from an online community, in the form of a Facebook Fan Page simply titled “We support Sec. Esperanza Cabral for curbing HIV and unwanted pregnancies”. The Page already has an excess of 1,000 self identified Fans of Sec. Cabral. Furthermore, a quick glance at its demographics reveals a membership composed mostly of young urban professionals – precisely the social group identified by The University of the Philippines Population Institute as having experienced the largest increase in reported HIV/AIDS cases in 2009.
Given our situation as it is, with the possible dearth of resources on sexual health, should there be an organized effort to stop unbridled access to the products of raunch culture? Or can we trust ourselves to make a distinction between responsible sexual habits and the fantasies of our id (as well as the cultural products developed to capitalize on them)? For now, the issue remains open to (mass) debate.