GUEST POST:
Why I won’t be reading 50 shades
of Grey or encouraging anyone else to.
Jude Levermore
I have made the decision not to
read the erotic novel by British author E.L. James that everyone is talking
about, dubbed “mummy porn”. I haven’t read the book, and I know how the adage
goes, but here I am, judging it by its cover (and its reviews. And the
impression it’s left on my friends).
Apparently the book (one of a
trilogy) explicitly
describes sexual bondage, discipline, sadism and masochism (BDSM). I hear that the story follows an
unfolding affair between a recent college graduate, the virgin Anastasia
Steele, and handsome young billionaire entrepreneur, Christian Grey, whose
childhood abuse left him a deeply damaged individual, and who enlists her to
share his secret sexual proclivities. Steele is required by Grey to sign a
contract allowing him complete control over her. Because of her fascination and
budding love for him, she consents to a kinky sexual relationship that includes
being slapped, spanked, handcuffed, and whipped with a leather riding crop in
his “Red Room of Pain.”
The
author is said to have written the books as a sexier version of the Twilight
series, which also stars a virgin who gives it all up to save a man.
People
have told me that this book is liberating for women. I don’t much like labels but I guess you could call me a
Christian feminist and it deeply concerns me that in our still male-dominated
culture, women are socialized to enjoy being dominated sexually and see
themselves as needing to subjugate their own identities to be accepted by men.
When I was growing up, I wasn’t
talked to about sex. I want to have a different relationship with my daughters
I want to be open and honest, to learn from them as they grow into women as
well as teach them. So why don’t I want them to read this book? I’m passionate
about how we interpret what we read. I’m a strong advocate for reader
response criticism, for allowing readers to let the personal seep into
their interpretations of what they read. What harm will it do for us to read
the book and talk about it, this is what I did with the Philip Pullman books
and Harry Potter when they were little? Why do I feel differently about this?
I think there are 2 main,
interrelated reasons;
The first I think has to do with
the difficult nature of feminism and the Church. For a couple of millennia
abstinence and celibacy were upheld as the ideal models for Christian sexual
practice. Marriage was offered for those who must be depraved enough to
be sexually active. This is still mainstream Christian thought, if not
mainstream Christian practice. The relationship between women and men and their
relationship to God as I understand it in Christian circles can be roughly
divided into 2 camps, “Complementarians”, a term for those who support a
hierarchy between men and women, women and men are fundamentally different but
somehow complimentary to each other (this difference somehow seems to be is in
favour of men) and “Egalitarians”, those who see men and woman as truly equal,
and oppose gender hierarchy. While
the Complementarian-Egalitarian division is the basic line of opposition, there
are also – as Michael Bird whose writings on Paul I have found really helpful
describes – various degrees of Complementarians, ranging from “Hard
Complementarians” to “Soft Complementarians”. Maybe where you sit in this debate effects how you feel about
this book, written by a woman, that objectifies women seeing them as virginal
saviours, debased by sexual violence that they somehow deserve due to the fall.
I sit firmly in the egalitarian
camp.
As
women (and men) grow, as we enter into (and fall out of) relationships, and we
need candid conversations about the unmatched importance of knowing your own
sexual boundaries and desires if we are going to be able to act well as agents
in our intimate relationships.
I
don’t think reading an (apparently badly written) erotic novel will help me
have those conversations. I want to be presented with a portrait of
sexuality—healthy sexuality—that goes beyond what the stories we’ve been told
and I want us to be presenting those portraits to our young people.
The
second reason has also to do with power the power to say no and feel OK about
it. To trust my own feelings about a subject rather than be swayed but
pervasive cultural norms. I want
our young people to be strong enough to make their own choices in the face of
“everyone’s read it so you should or you’ll have nothing to say”
I’ve
heard numerous sermons describing the church’s stance on issues of sex and
relationships as a means of protecting the church body from heartbreak, from
disease, from abuse—any number of very real, very sex-specific consequences. However
I believe that a new model by which we will protect our congregations from
sexual violence and better enable them to develop healthy sexual relationships also
requires that we not perpetrate our own form of sexual violence by ostracizing those
people whose quest to experience intimacy that is meaningful to them doesn’t
fit into our “straight married” or “celibate” boxes.
There
is a question which remains. Why do women reading this book seem to enjoy fantasies of being dominated? The feminist argument would
say that it is because women as a group cannot escape from men, we have found
ways of dealing with their sometimes violent and destructive behaviour. What we
do is to eroticise, and internalise the desire for this behaviour,
rationalising this as having power. This book caters for this need. By
“choosing” to enjoy male-dominant sex, women are able to develop a sense of
power, however limited. I want to develop a sense of empowerment in a different
way. I want us to develop an egalitarian approach to sex.
So
I am able to say, no thanks, I don’t want to read this book, even if all my
friends are and the reasons are that there are some things I don’t want to
gratify. I don’t want to put money into the pocket, and flattery into the ego
of an author who seems to be cynically exploiting women readers. I don’t want
to be part of perpetuating a patriarchal, domineering, socially acceptable
abuse of power. And also I don’t want to read to it just because everyone else
is and that’s ok. In fact it is more than OK it is a way of exercising a
control that is power. A choice I can make as a Christian feminist.
And I believe and want to work towards a Church that can be a community where women and men are supported in a search for an intimacy that is not one-size-fits-all, but is also not a male dominated, porn fuelled event. This will take courage we’ll not get there by tip-toe we will need to be honest, to have difficult conversations and make challenging choices. I am going to start by not reading this book but trying to have more open and honest communication with my daughters and my friends about the issues it seems to bring up.
