Word on the “DZ”

As a young girl, in my frightened mind about the subject of sex, I placed virginity on a pedestal set high enough. It would not be an exaggeration to say that among my acne-fighting friends, I was like Jesus preaching the news of chastity and sexual abstinence (valid until further notice). Despite the clear mission of celibacy, my unblemished reputation has been dusted by gossip. What is my fault? In a small town, I exposed my (incorrigibly shapely) legs in a short skirt.

It took me a long time to understand that having a body and the fact that I dared to flaunt it was considered a sin by many. The set of ethical principles that guided the accusers came from the pages of a mysterious book, where between the obvious blaming of original sin on the woman, one could find a parable about the birth of one of the most effective tactics for controlling society – shame.

What is it?

Distrust of our own bodies and humiliation that sinks its sharp teeth into spontaneity, freedom and lightness, subjecting us to social norms, not because we adhere to them, but because we fear punishment. Shame has eaten into small-town identities almost as deeply as leftist ideology does into misogynists, causing those who step out of line to be accused of disobedience. Perhaps this is why Eve who breaks the prohibitions and eats the apple is stigmatized, and the patch of temptress with which she is associated virtually never disappears. This becomes the reason why many women aspire to modesty, because they know they will have to pay for breaking the rules. Anyway, that’s the message they get from the culture. Frivolous witches are suspected of conspiring with the devil, demoralized heroines of American slashers are killed in the first scenes of a horror movie, and pop princesses who break out of the culture of purity are brought to a public nervous breakdown.

From an early age, women subconsciously understand that their sexuality can be realized on the basis of two available options – the licentious hussy, or the virgin, undefiled by sin.

The extreme polarity, however, does not depend on individual erotic behavior. The common denominator of society’s moral decline is female sexuality.

Some argue that the difference between a housewife and a whore is that one gets paid for her work and the other does it for free – because both roles are diminished and limited by the same system. Its driving force is patriarchal values, which want They refer to one gender as donjianism, the other as henpecking. This dichotomy leads to the perpetuation of the image of the slut as a contemptible woman and one with whom we do not want to be identified. Thus, the saints are greasing the ass of the lackeys, thus creating the illusion that they themselves are living an orderly life in Christ. Or with Christ. I would prefer Christ in me. No matter. This tactic effectively draws attention away from the real problem – those who attack women. All of them. Regardless of whether someone pays them for sex or not.

Sometimes when I contemplate the culture in which I have come to marinate I wonder if maybe I should throw a penitential sack over my back and finally stop talking about orgasms. Then I’m reminded that as long as I don’t have a penis growing between my legs, I have no hope of my sexuality ceasing to be an object of public discourse. After all, it doesn’t matter if a chastity belt is slung across my hips and I adhere to the rigidly established rules that if I get pregnant, it’s only by the only method recognized by the church (the droplet route). Regardless of how I conduct myself, the question is not whether someone will ever call me a slut. The question is: when?

Harassment of women’s sexuality takes many forms, EVERY one of which is violence. Slander and biting comments can cause social anxiety, ostracism, depression, self-harm and even suicidal thoughts and attempts. While none of us will make slut disappear from our vocabularies, we can give her image a new meaning. One that will strengthen instead of hurt.

So in the name of solidarity with women, whose value is repeatedly belittled, I’m whipping up a pawn with my inner raghead. She is wearing a very short skirt from under which her unearthly long legs protrude, and says that “it is impossible to embarrass a woman with her sexuality if she herself is not ashamed of it.” ^[1] .

Now, how about that.

^[1] The quote is from the book Whores, Sluts, Rags. Slut-shaming stories .