Feminist Iconoclasm and the Problem of Eroticism

Hardy focuses on eroticism as the “public representation of sexuality” (77). He argues that our current understanding of eroticism is incapable of incorporating some of the new social constructions around gender that feminists are trying to adopt. He considers it to be “anachronistic in a world where gender order is being radically challenged” (80). Hardy explains historical influences of hegemonic eroticism, but also emphasizes that the social conditions “exceed historical memory” (81). His timeline helps to explain some of the social uses of eroticism that he describes in a section of the same name. During this process, Hardy discusses the dichotomous relationship between anti-porn, who argue that “sexual violence is culturally procured by the pornographic icon of female degradation” (78), and Anti-censorship, who see “sexual violence as more of a symptom than the source of women’s oppression” (84).

Perhaps one of his most important distinctions between two schools of thought is the separation of the psychoanalytic and social interpretations. He finds fault within the psychoanalytic focus because it “tends to view the erotic only in relation to the psychic” (79), which, he feels, “makes our erotic preoccupation with power seem less threatening and politically problematic” (85).

In responding to a text that has been called “dense” in an email by our professor, I’m afraid I may lack the intellectual capabilities to it justice. I can however focus on what I felt while reading, which I suppose, is all I was asked to do.

Looking historically at the hegemonic relationship between men and women, or this sort of willing(?) power of one sex over the other, Hardy does an excellent job explaining how some of our social constructs of gender (and, from there, sexuality) have been changed throughout time... of course, he sees his own limitations with this approach, which makes me, too, wonder how the original power dynamics came to be. He mentions the “active” and “passive” roles—I won’t elaborate—which make me remember discussion in class about finding new languages for female experience with sexuality. It is, partially, the active/passive language that persisted throughout Greek and Roman society that we base our own understanding of on sex today. What if, as mentioned by Professor Sabo in class, sex didn’t involve a penis “penetrating” the vagina, but rather a vagina “surrounding” the penis? If we were somehow able to attribute an active role to the woman during sex (at that time) perhaps ideas of sexuality would have evolved entirely differently.

Since I’m already speaking in terms of how social change could have altered historical perceptions of sexuality, I should probably look deeper into Hardy’s introduction of “social scripts” language. Hardy perceives scripts as a means of developing an adult gender identity which, he feels, is largely associated with sexual identity (86)... What does this mean? Honestly, I’m not sure, but I come to the following conclusion: if eroticism is “nothing more than an arbitrary and inherently unstable set of conventional significations” (90), it should be possible to change those conventions, especially if they are unstable.

I’m left with the feeling that, if eroticism has historically changed due to social conditions, what is stopping the next conception of eroticism from evolving from our new ways of thinking? Surely, if more and more people start supporting a more egalitarian view of sexuality, there should be a reactive change in public perceptions of the erotic. I think Hardy would argue that this is where the problem lies. He seems to suggest that we need to start in that direction—we need to claim our current position as a “starting point” and work with what we have rather than trying to start from scratch.

In Hardy’s conclusion, he wonders if a new idea of eroticism, born out of the old dichotomy of active/passive and dominant/submissive, will create an new “queer world free of the master categories of gender and sexuality, or simply a multitude of lesser categories in their place” (92). I’m more likely to side with those that think it will create the latter. Based on my own experience, it’s seems natural [my use of natural may only be proving Hardy’s point about our tendency to naturalize] for us to allocate new things to their respective boxes, no matter how small. Where once “feminism” was a box, it has since been divided in “anti-porn,” “anti-censorship,” “anti-sex,” and much more. Of course, that’s one opinion. Maybe the examples I’ve given should not be considered because they are attempts at elaboration, and are not created when such a reality exists.