Levy is particularly adept at shedding light on “raunchy” things within our society that I may have not thought twice about. Her approach, while broad, is able to hone in on common threads throughout each example. Many of her examples (possibly all of them) establish a conflict between her own definition of sexual liberation and the definitions of the women participating. From Levy’s perspective, the women participating in the exhibitionist forms of sexuality aren’t necessarily receiving as much liberation as they might expect. Levy’s objections come three-pronged (at least).
Sex has become something commercial and, in Levy’s eyes, this cheapens the expression many of these women are seeking to promote. How can you possibly be liberated by something that is inherently exploitative? Levy would agree that commodification is not synonymous with liberation, suggesting that they are even exclusionary, saying, “raunch culture is not essentially progressive, it is essentially commercial” (p. 29). Sadly, it is also this commercialism that has led to a prescribed form of sexuality. And what is sexy? Answer: whatever can sell. Breast implants, hair color, make-up... all those things that help women to a specific kind of beauty.
Another of Levy’s objections is one of contradiction. Many of the activities considered to be acceptable forms of sexual expression are exactly the types of things that earlier generations were fighting against. Where some feminists tried to ban pornography, many women are now considering pornography a type of liberation—a way to take charge of their sexuality. To Levy, this approach shifts objectification of women by men, to objectification of women by themselves.
Let’s assume for a moment that “raunch culture” is the proper form of liberation; Levy’s argument in chapter two shows the current flaws in such an expression. Sexual expression, or even sexiness in general, is still the domain of women. It’s heavily one-sided. When referring to Katie Couric Levy says, Referring to Couric – “Proving that you are hot, worthy of lust, and—necessarily—that you seek to provoke lust is still exclusively women’s work” (p. 33). And it’s true. It’s not often you hear of a man trying to “show more leg” in an attempt to seem appealing as well as professional.
This is something that we hear over and over again. The women in Playboy, for example, are mentioned as having lives that are separate from their photo shoots. Professional lives. The shoot, for them, is supposed to be a means of expressing that they can be sexy too, or in addition, to their normal life. As real women they are able to be both professional in their conduct and in charge of their sexuality. Levy is quick to point out that this “I can be sexy too” mentality doesn’t really live up to the expectations of the posing women. In a magazine no one will see the real women—it doesn’t extend to the readers that are unaware of the woman’s personal life, they only get the part of the women presented on the page. The product, then, is unbalanced. It only providing the reader with “sexy” and no “too.”
After reading, I'm left with the feeling that any outward expression of sexuality is a potentially hazardous thing. I don't believe this to be Levy's intention. To what extent are we (or perhaps just women) allowed to publically display their bodies? Maybe that's not the proper question... What reasoning would a woman need to embrace certain parts of "raunch culture" without perpetuating many of the problems that Levy points out? Should she ever?
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3 comments:
Your comment that Levy's definition of sexual liberation doesn't match that of the women she looks it seems to be true in so many of the cases she cites. At the same time, however, I wonder how much all of these women have thought about sexual liberation, and whether that is their reasoning for behaving the way they do. In some cases, such as when Levy discusses the women on Spring Break in Florida, the girls seem to be flashing the camera not because they are liberated, but because they want the product that the camera offers them. In another case, they seem to be heckled into it by men who want the free products. She mentions one scenario where men were offered products only if they could get the girls to expose themselves for the camera, and they eventually did so with a growing crowd. I think that their motivation in this place may have been more along the lines of getting the crowd to stop bothering them, rather than because they felt sexually liberated.
I loved your last point, that Levy seems to suggest that all forms of sexual expression are harmful to women. I feel that this makes her argument so much weaker than it could have been. While I agree that some girls are exposing themselves too much or for the wrong reasons, such as the girls in Florida for spring break, I feel that there is a possibility to be sexually expressive without taking it too far. She seems to look at the issue as binary, whereas I look at it as more of a spectrum. She analyzes cases at one extreme end of the spectrum, and mentions the other end, but completely ignores the women in the middle, that may like to feel sexually attractive to their partners, while not exposing themselves to the entire world, or that take pride in their bodies, which seems to be a rarity in our society, instead of hiding them, either out of shame or prudishness.
While I can agree with some aspects of Levy's argument, that some women take showing their bodies too far or for the wrong reasons, I feel that her argument would be much stronger if she didn't alienate women who enjoy being sexual and feeling attractive.
Matt,
I'm interested in your concluding comments, as they related to a dilemma I've been contemplating recently. I'm performing the monologue "The Woman Who Loved to Make Vaginas Happy" in the Vagina Monologues this year, and after reading the first chapter of Levy's book over interim break, I questioned my performance of the monologue and whether it could possibly be construed as feminist in the midst of a patriarchal culture that interprets female sexuality as a "show" of sorts. After discussing Levy with a friend, I concluded that Levy is really arguing against making oneself into a show of "sexiness" rather than having sexual pleasure oneself. Although I do think Levy has some holes in her arguments and oversimplifies (and editorializes) her argument, I'm drawn to her statement that "there is a disconnect between sexiness or hotness and sex itself" (30). I think this statement, when seen in the context of the book, shows that sexual expression (at least according to Levy) isn't inherently bad, but it has come to be seen as something that is to be done for the pleasure of others.
I may be talking my argument in circles, but I just wanted to draw your attention to that part of her argument as well.
By the way, I have many problems with Eve Ensler's feminism as well...but found her an interesting example to look at against Levy's arguments.
Matt, you bring up some good points about, e.g., the commercialization of sex. I would have liked to see you unpack this even further; how deeply does Levy dig into this aspect? And what about how 'sexual expression ... is still the domain of women.' Is this entirely true or is Levy one-sided here?
Your concluding question is an important one.
Anne
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