Introducing Trivialization and Commodification of Sex

If patriarchy is all we see, matriarchy is the dark matter.  Although we have not thoroughly explored the visible universe, we’ve gained plenty of ground.  Only recently has dark matter been discovered.  Certainly it deserves credit, given tidal waves of thought, for being so powerful and abundant in our galactic neighborhood (and ever-more beyond).  Patriarchy is the obvious half of the answer.  Let’s shine some light on the other side.

Our species, dependent on sex to ignite the sparks of life, propelling its genetic signature forward through time, has given males and females two distinctly different pieces of the key.  There are two respective sets of innate roles (among procreators) doled with this little twist of nature.  Healthy males, as seed bearers, are driven to spread their seed far and wide.  Females, holding a relatively rare egg, are gate keepers, designated with emotional and physical sensitivities that typically exceed those of their male counterparts.  It’s only logical: while males do not have significant investment required of them, a female’s investment in the deal requires much more energy.

The egg, buried deep in her body, is only available for a brief window*, at the fertile peak of the female cycle during her most prime years of life.  Furthermore, bringing that newly ignited seed to full term (and ensuring it’s survival into adulthood) takes a tremendous and lengthy physical toll.  She has every reason to consider herself a gene-screening machine.  Patriarchy then becomes a natural, almost violent reaction to this discrepancy of true power.

*1.  Females are more attractive to males when they’re fertile.  They also naturally have an enhanced ability to detect optimal mates at that particular time.

With steadily declining happiness among women in the US, starkly contrasting to a slightly increasing amount of happiness for men, we have a problem.  It’s played out for individuals, as well as for groups of people, with potential ramifications in the political arena, both locally & across the US and on around the World.

What we’re experiencing appears to be the result of shared, socialized cognitive dissonance.  Socialized cognitive dissonance is when a popular culture-induced behavior does not jive with our hard-wired drive, causing wide-spread social epidemics.  From increases in teen pregnancy, drug use and crime, to emotional health and relationship concerns everywhere, people suffer from trivialization and commodification of sex.

As easy as it is to forget, sex used to have serious consequences.  Although today sex is still essentially Russian Roulette, before development of simple forms of contraception, participating in the act of sex was far more significant.  Once “protection” became common-place, sex became increasingly trivialized.  In other words, “contraceptive technologies radically alter the cost analysis of, and distort the social dynamics associated with, sexual conduct.”  This leads to what I call the Darker Side of Casual Sex (DSCS*).

Commodification of sex is nothing new – our ancestors did it too.  But with a raunchy mainstream media paired with a saturated environment of sexual advertising, the natural art has been technologically-bastardized.  When females figured out they could use sex to gain resources, it was a no-brainer.  They quickly found sex-in-exchange to be beneficial for their kin, across the animal kingdom.  It’s hypothesized that (among our ancestors) smaller, less attractive males learned to walk on two feet while out collecting offerings for the female, forced to carry and commute at the same time.  However, once advertisers caught on to the potential of using sex for profit, we stepped into a whole new ball game.  It is to our detriment they continue to make gains by pulling our sexual chains.

*2.  DSCS is the set of complications associated with taking birth control (impaired ability to detect proper mates, no added protection from STD’s, skewed feminine cycles, etc.), as well as the potential for emotional confusion and depression attached to such cognitive dissonance.

Consumerism, the tendency to fall for the law of diminishing returns in efforts to have more and more and more, is one symptom of the disease.  Whether it is consumption in an economic sense, or in that of our voracious appetites (and resulting obesity epidemic), Americans in general tend to over-do it.  If we weren’t succumbing to sexual desires and frustrations when we made our decisions about what to buy and put into our bodies, maybe the downward spiral of consumerism, not to mention some of our other serious sweeping social issues, could begin to be resolved.

MORE TO COME…

Love Buddy

There’s a wild black cat who’s in love with me.  He waits at the sliding glass door, near the place I frequently appear by the computer, patiently.  If it’s morning, the rising sun hits him and he’ll close his eyes, slightly swaying.  But he’s not asleep, just half there.  The moment the ground shakes from my two stepping feet, he’s fully alert.

Some days he’s more patient than others.  If it takes too long, or if the air is sharpened by fierce wind and bitter cold, I hear him calling.

He tends to repeat himself, “Meow!”  Until I open the door, invite him in and stand there, each trying to coax the other across the line.  No one wants to be in the cold, but he is absolutely terrified of being inside.  Violet and I trapped him and his identical brother in here once and they both, in a furry panic of streaking black mini-panthers, literally, bounced off the walls.  These cats are wild.

It’s Buddy and Slasher.  Rightly named, Buddy is the nice one.  He’s turned out to be quite a lover.  Slasher, on the other hand (paw?) will get ya.  My little girl is the only one who can tell them apart from looks alone.  Their behavior is what gives it away.

As kittens, they always stuck together.  The mother cat (who may or may not have been a product of my kitten-adopting days in high school) had an apparent history of trauma, with her tail bent sideways in two places.  Needless to say, she was extremely skittish, so her two male kittens were completely feral.  The little black kittens are young adults now (more like sleek panthers) and she’s long since disappeared.

Despite their parallel existence and identical looks, Buddy and Slasher are total opposites.  While Buddy has discovered the wonders of human touch, Slasher never got over his innate fears.  If you reach out your hand to pet Buddy and Slasher is near, he’ll run up and try to slash you.  These days, Slasher won’t come around unless he’s very hungry, so it’s usually safe.

Buddy always wins me over.  After a few minutes of vain efforts to entice him in, I’m pushed to join him outside.  Checking on the giant spider who’s made her web above my spot, I sit on the platform, facing Mt. Hood.  It’s a different picture each time, but if you can see the mountain – no matter what – it’s wonderful.  This morning, a sliver of white clouds cut across, halfway up, against a bright blue sky.  It was just after dawn…

He wraps himself around my ankles, nuzzling, until I slowly, gently, pick him up and put him in my lap, the only place he ever wants to be.  His big claws extend, digging in, and he curls into a ball, hiding his face in me.  Purring, once in a while he looks up at me, directly into my eyes with some kind of loving awe like, “Who are you human?”

I sort of feel the same about him.  I’m in love with the cat who ventured so far that he found something once unimaginable.  I’m in love with the fact that he went with it.  He’s hilarious to observe in the local animal kingdom, where he engages in frequent acts of play with to the others, cats or dog alike.  I love it when he rubs against Peaches (the pit) for a pet, while she presents him a stick, neither really able to help each other out whatsoever.

So what?  He thinks I’m especially amazing.  To Buddy, I’m the one.  But I realize if I wasn’t here, it might as well be anyone else in the vicinity who knows how to pet a cat.

It’s not just inter-species, this shared joy – it’s inter-personal.  My pal Megan and I rediscovered the same concept later this morning, during our run up Mt. Tabor.  Neither would have done it on our own.  With what started as a mere idea, a neurological flicker in my brain, we’ve made something not only productive in a direct sense, considering personal health, but also in creating what has potential for transmission and ensuing action among our friends (possibly continued with their friends, and their friends’ friends, and so on).  And joyous it was.

Being fat and unhealthy is contagious, so is being healthy and fit.  Add to that a solid correlation between fitness and intelligence and I should not have to argue that exercising is one of everyone’s main concerns, yet I do, because people, including many of my friends, continue to suffer from learned helplessness.

Every moment is filled with potential to adapt and make change.  Health related goal achievement requires a concerted (and permanent) re-structuring of one’s personal habits and priorities.  Part of this includes motions toward surrounding oneself with like-minded individuals.  By together, regularly working our butts off, we’re able to demonstrate, inspire and encourage our peers to participate, fully aware that one is far less likely to do the required work alone.  (Steering power is limitless – get a feel for the wheel.)

Love, it’s a blessing.  Buddy and I adore each other.  It’s just as fulfilling as it is simple.  And it fits neatly into one little compartment of my life.  No one would ever be jealous of a cat.  But my relationship with him is just like every other!  We’re enamored by each other, intoxicated, yet both of us are practically interchangeable with any other (sentient) being in the world.

On a Stroll

You can’t make the most of every moment, but you can take steps to get there.  I almost screwed myself over this morning leaving my house without a pen, because it’s tough to make those minutes on the train count for something more while you’re effortlessly moved from A to B.  Course these days, with so many nifty gadgets at our fingertips, it’s no stress to keep busy, but rather than text or whatnot, I managed to put every minute of that ride to use, all thanks to the lady at the MAX stop who generously gave me a pen.  As she balanced her bike on her hip and dug it out from her black backpack, I observed her faded green sweatshirt and tight black workout pants with running shoes.  I had on the exact same things!

“We match,” I said, amused.  She wasn’t.  How could she not be?!

Then the train arrived.  I found my seat and got writing, trying to make the instructions clear.  After a routine ass-kicking in Miss Trish’s Total Body Conditioning class, I met my friend Doug and handed over the note.  I also gave him a disc.  Within a few days I should have the result.  Lets just say I’ve got a feeling you’ll enjoy it.  And it’s only the beginning.

Afterward, meandering through the South Park Blocks, I passed three gritty old bums sharing a laugh, looking cozy on a bench.

“Your hair is really pretty,” said one on the end, who badly needed to wipe his nose, “Have a nice day.”

“Thank you…you too,” I blurted, fearing briefly that he thought I’d just said his hair was pretty.  Still in motion, I was quickly beyond them and on down the next block, where I came to the great Lincoln statue.  There was something in his hand.  My head tilted sideways – I hadn’t noticed that before!

It was reflective.  Like a silly bird attracted to a glint of light, I had to investigate.  It was an empty cigarette box.  OOOOH – I hate that!  I hate littering!  I hate it, I hate it!  But worse yet, some asshole kid put their trash into the palm of a statue honoring the guy who abolished slavery?!  Not to mention, he was the first US president ever assassinated.  Come on people.

Tip-toed, barely able to reach his fingers, I snatched the empty box and made a bee line for the nearest trash can.  Half-way to it, in the courtyard at Park and Salmon, where farmer’s market takes place in the warmer months, I faced the lovely bronze lady sculpture.  I think it used to be a fountain for horses.  Recalling the time – must be years ago by now – some jerk(s) actually tried to steal it, I wondered how many other people have seen her bent sideways.  I tossed the trash.

Feeling resolved, I turned east and proceeded towards my destination.  Mission number two of the day was dropping off the camera to be repaired or replaced…again.  You know what this means, folks – no more endless pics from Aud. (for 6-8 weeks).  Meantime, I’ve discovered a new form of art: photography on other peoples’ cameras!  So don’t be surprised if I borrow your camera for a few minutes too create some wonderful images.  I started last week (thanks to Tito Leon, a fantastic friend and fellow Mud Mucker).

Before I reached the camera store, I came to the naked lady statue that Mayor Bud Clark famously flashed back in 1984 for the Expose Yourself to Art campaign.  I admired her new place, almost welcoming, near the NE corner of Pioneer Square.

Aaaaaw shucks.  I can only hope y’all love the local art like I do.