Duke, Horizontal

“You think about sex like a man.” My male friend assures me that this is the reason for my column’s popularity, perhaps its very existence. By claiming that I have the ability to channel the male sexual psyche, I assume he meant that I could separate sex from the messy peculiarities of emotion, think objectively about the inherently subjective game of physical attraction and approach intimacy with a nonchalant facade. From his perspective, I never would have ventured into the arena of sexual journalism without a distinctly unfeminine viewpoint on the hook-up scene.

While I wholeheartedly disagree with the notion that I possess any of these qualities or viewpoints, I recognize where he may have fallen into confusion. For a woman, sex is never supposed to be just about sex. As the same friend noted, “Women may enjoy sex, but there’s always something else. They want love, attention, validation, revenge, power, connection. Men can want these things too, but they can also sleep with you and walk away. Sex can mean nothing.” And thus speaking about sex in a public forum with a tone of cynicism and emotional distance doesn’t roll off the ladylike tongue. It confuses people when you demand female respect while also praising the virtues of a blowjob. Girls may share with their friends every uncomfortable detail of the previous night’s sexual encounters, but they’re not really supposed to boast, mock or challenge any aspect of their sexual life. Those behaviors make you a slut. Or a man.

Yet, based on this logic, it seems only a woman could over-analyze and evaluate every minute detail of condoms, make-out sessions and sex in the stacks. This column doesn’t try to mirror the sexual bravado of a fraternity listserv or promote some hook-up hierarchy generally utilized by men. Nor does it attempt to initiate gender warfare. As I write this penultimate edition, I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about Duke, Horizontal’s overall significance and what value, if any, exists in making fun of my friends’ sexual exploits in a school newspaper. I haven’t used this forum as a soapbox for virulent feminism or social change or empowerment as much as a self-deprecating evaluation of “white girl problems.” The forces of sexism have not come to a grinding halt within the pages of Recess.

Still, this column has left some readers uncomfortable and perplexed. The people I write about, male or female, like sex, or at least some element of it. They participate in the hook-up culture. But they’ve also been hurt by it, burned by it, emotionally smothered by it. I certainly have. Students often discuss sex at Duke in binary terms. You’re dating or you’re just sleeping together, you’re a prude or a slut, hook-up culture is restrictive or freeing, men win and women lose. Of course, nothing really plays out that simply. And writing this column as a woman, trying to encompass all these viewpoints, can turn the seemingly simple on its head.

I know I can’t claim to speak for all Duke women when I talk about one-night stands and dance floor make-outs, but I’ve tried to speak as one Duke woman. Whether profound or superficial or contradictory or emotional, I’ve at least tried to relate that, when it comes to sex, women have something to say. It isn’t always what we’re supposed to say. But if you’re offending someone, you’re probably doing something right.