Between Nerdy Talk and Dirty Talk: A Critical Investigation into Porn as a Tool to Improve Sexual Communication

Between Nerdy Talk and Dirty Talk:

A Critical Investigation into Porn as a Tool to Improve Sexual Communication

UNIVERSITY OF AMSTERDAM

Graduate School of Social Sciences Sociology: Gender, Sexuality and Society

Master’s Thesis

Supervisor: Dr. Evelien Geerts Second Reader: Dr. Marie-Louise Janssen

Tessah Joseph 12284343 July 2020

Abstract

This research addresses the spectrum of sexual communication that exists between anatomical terminology and dirty talk, a sexual language abyss that represents a variety of intimate and sexual contexts where language to express oneself is necessary but where vocabulary and communication skills are lacking. This paper aims to explore the fractured space between the classroom and the sexual encounter, and how weak sexual communication skills create challenges with articulating desires, needs, boundaries, consent, and more. Furthermore, this research investigates educational porn as a tool to improve sexual communication skills. Porn, with its complex fusion of sex, art, education, entertainment, language, and bodily expression, is one of contemporary society’s most powerful actors in the theater of sexual celebration and knowledge production. This thesis aims to critically evaluate porn, specifically educational porn, and its role in producing sexual knowledge while also acting as a site for resistance to the dominant discourses of sexuality.

Keywords:

Abstract 2

Prologue 4

Ch. 1- Introduction 6

Sexuality, Communication, and Porn 6

Primary research questions & sub-questions 10

Theoretical Frameworks: 11

Sexual Script Theory: 12

Foucauldian Critical Discourse Analysis 13

PART ONE: SEXUAL COMMUNICATION

Ch. 2 - Importance of sexual communication skills in adults 14

Data Collection Methods 16

Sexual Communication Analysis: Where are the weaknesses? 19

Conclusion: Sexual Communication Myth and Scripts 25

Theoretical Analysis of Sexual Communication 26

Script Theory 26

Foucault: Discourse on Sexual Communication 29

PART TWO: PORN AS EDUCATION

Ch. 3 Why analyze porn? 33

Porn Panic: Background and Historical Framing 34

Porn Panic: Current day 36

In Support of a Critical Approach to Porn 38

Porn as Educational: Setting a Precedent 40

Porn: Education, Entertainment, and Literacy 44

Ch. 4 – Porn as Sex Education 47

Method: Interviews 47

Method: Visual Analysis 50

Method: Theoretical Analysis 50

Ch. 5 - Sex School: Explicit Sex Education Films 51

Sex School: Kissing 52

Sex School: Hook-ups 56

Ch. 6 - Conclusion 61

References: 64

Appendices: 69

Interview guides and transcripts Podcast transcripts

Prologue

In summer 2019, I moved from Portland, Oregon, USA to Amsterdam, NL to attend the University of Amsterdam. My plan was to conclude the one year study and, ideally, stay in the Netherlands for at least one additional year.

In early 2020, COVID-19 became a factor in everyone’s lives. Plans were changed, jobs were lost, schools were cancelled, and much more devastation abounded. Initially, I planned to wait out the pandemic in Amsterdam, but circumstances required I relocate to the U.S., so I moved from Amsterdam to Portland on March 26, 2020.

The logistical process of relocating was manageable, but the emotional and mental adjustment felt slow. It took me a couple weeks before I felt ready to return to my thesis. It was also a time when I felt like my thesis subject matter (and the fact that it had nothing to do with a global pandemic) was irrelevant to the current context, and spending hours each day thinking about something other than the pandemic felt not only challenging but irresponsible. After a few weeks of this, I came to the realization that not all non-pandemic work needed to cease; sexuality and social relations are still important, and as it happens, porn is an especially important subject during a pandemic because in-person sexual relations are riskier.

By the middle of April I was able to regain momentum and start again. I made some changes to my research methods: I found interviewees based in the U.S., and decided not to host a focus group porn screening and discussion. Instead of a focus group, I conducted additional interviews.

At the end of May, following the murder of George Floyd in Minneapolis, cities around the U.S. (and world) erupted in protests calling for an end to police brutality and confrontation of the deeply embedded systems of anti-Black racism that make up the majority of American history. Similarly to the beginning of the COVID-19 outbreak, my attention turned toward current events as I asked myself the question, “how is my work relevant to the current social world?” My thesis does not directly address the topic of racism and racial fetishism in porn, which are significant problems. If I were to start this research again, given the current hyper focus on the importance

of living and working as an anti-racist, I would incorporate a more intersectional approach to understanding porn as an educating force. As I conclude this research project, I commit my future work to be anti-racist in its approach to sexual liberation, education, and pleasure. It should have all along, but like many of us, I am late to this important conversation.

The year 2020 has proven to be an unforgettable reminder of how quickly “normalcy” can flip upside down. While it is painful to see the unnecessary stress and suffering that the mismanaged pandemic has caused here in the U.S., and the shame of having a president who is a sexual predator and who cannot utter the words “Black Lives Matter,” I am hopeful that this year will be the beginning of the end of American exceptionalism and brutality, and an opportunity to heal deep societal wounds. I hope that the culture of sexuality is one of the many systems that is shaken up and rebuilt with more attention to equality, pleasure and humanity, so that future generations don’t perpetuate the same racial and sexual oppression of the past.

Ch. 1- Introduction

Sexuality, Communication, and Porn

Basic anatomy classes during my secondary education taught me how to locate my cervix on a diagram of the female reproductive system. After an introductory lesson, I could draw an arrow from a list of words such as labia majora, urethra, and cervix to the correct body parts depicted in the simple cross section of a female abdomen. I feel it is important to mention that the clitoris was never included in the need-to-know words or illustrations. Thankfully, sexologists and academics like Netherlands-based Ellen Laan are working to change this glaring error in sexual education (Barmak, 2020). But sitting in my middle school classroom, connecting the word to the illustration, I was merely memorizing body parts that may as well have been scapula or mandible, in terms of their relevance to my sexuality. In no way was this labeling activity preparing my seventh grade brain to face the world of sexual negotiation, boundary-setting, or pleasure advocacy. What I was learning would prepare me for a rudimentary understanding of pregnancy and birth, or visiting a doctor and explaining the location of a mysterious lesion. This is not to say there is no value in recognizing, labeling and understanding body parts and their functions, because those abilities serve their own purposes, but sex education that stops there robs students of crucial information that transfers outside of the classroom or doctor’s office and into the complex, dynamic social world.

Today, as an adult cisgender woman with an active and complicated sex life, looking back at my secondary school sex education I can clearly identify the gaps, omissions, and weaknesses in the curricula; however, my point is not to dwell on the failings of my American sex education. My goal in this research is to understand where I, and many adults like me, stand today with our knowledge and comfort around sexuality, specifically that inescapable aspect of an active sex or dating life: communication. The past helps me contextualize who I have become, and illuminate areas where I feel confident and where I feel limited, but now I want to focus on the present and the future. I want to explore the current status of adult sexual communication skills. What are the gaps in knowledge and comfort? In what sexual contexts do adult individuals exhibit

communicative confidence, and in what ways do they seem lost or insecure? Furthermore, I want to know what tools exist to remedy weaknesses in adult sexual communication skills to improve our collective ability to experience satisfying, pleasurable sexual lives.

Where I stand now, I can articulate the location of my cervix, if anyone cares to hear, and by virtue of pop culture scripts, I also know how to titillate a partner with phrases like, “you make me so wet.” To me, these two examples (articulating the location of my cervix and telling someone how wet I am) exist on a spectrum of comfort and context. I am comfortable voicing anatomical descriptions of anatomy within a variety of social contexts, even if the word “vagina” might linger a bit longer on my tongue than the word “uterus” (an observation of sexual stigma worthy of its own cultural analysis). However, there are significantly fewer scenarios where I will provide an update on my genital lubrication status.

While knowledge of correct anatomical terminology is valuable, the vocabulary can be limiting in its application to a variety of social settings outside of classrooms or doctors’ offices. The ability to identify my labia does not give me the confidence or tools I need to vocalize my boundaries during a hookup, like ensuring my sexual partner uses a protective barrier, or asking to be pleasured differently while being sensitive to the other person feeling rejection. Labeling a cross-section of the female reproductive system does not even begin to touch the social and emotional experience of navigating real life sex.

On the other end of the spectrum, ‘dirty talk’ can be exciting, but its purpose is typically to arouse. Saying out loud, “I want you to fuck me” can certainly turn up the heat, but does it tell your sex partner anything about how you like to be fucked? While there is certainly value in lustful, explicit language, dirty talk should not be the only communication between sexual partners. Some specificity is key, especially in terms of advocating for oneself. Maybe your sexual partner knows you well—your body, your boundaries—but maybe you are new sex partners and there is still quite a bit of discovery still to happen. Even if your partner does know you well, people do not always want the same thing they wanted yesterday. Assumptions and guesses can lead to crossed lines or unsatisfying sexual experiences. Clear communication is key, otherwise we must be mind readers, and that is impossible.

Communication relies on a common lexicon, a shared discourse consisting of language and cultural meanings. To communicate effectively, we need an expanded vocabulary; words beyond

cervix, vagina, clitoris, labia; beyond wet, hard, and cum. In fact, we need full, tailorable phrases, such as, “I sometimes feel pain with vaginal penetration. You really turn me on but I know that sometimes it can hurt at first. Can we take it slow and use plenty of lube?” Or, “I’m more comfortable if you use latex gloves when fingering me. Here, I have some.” Does this count as dirty talk? I would argue, no. And it certainly isn’t biology classroom material. Where do phrases like these fall on the spectrum of sexual communication? And how do sexually active adults develop the communication tools to address sexual encounters in healthy, honest, and satisfying ways? When written, these examples can be seen as simple and straightforward, but in-person and likely naked, articulating needs can feel scary and vulnerable.

My research addresses this spectrum between anatomical terminology and dirty talk, where we are left with a sexual language abyss; a wide expanse of intimate and sexual contexts where a language to express oneself is necessary but where vocabulary and communication skills are lacking. I aim to explore the fractured space between the classroom and the sexual encounter, and the consequent weaknesses in sexual communication skills which create challenges articulating interest, disinterest, desires, needs, boundaries, consent, and more. Furthermore, I will investigate the possibilities of how to fill these sexual communication gaps by looking at the educational possibilities of porn.

To start a discussion on porn, it would be helpful if there was an agreed-upon definition of pornography, but it is notoriously difficult to define (Kirkham and Skeggs, 1996). Porn has existed for centuries and taken many forms, such as paintings, poems, literature, photography and film. Merriam Webster defines pornography as:

1) The depiction of erotic behavior (as in pictures or writing) intended to cause sexual excitement; 2) Material (such as books or a photograph) that depicts erotic behavior and is intended to cause sexual excitement; 3) The depiction of acts in a sensational manner so as to arouse a quick intense emotional reaction.1

Britannica’s definition of pornography:

Representation of sexual behaviour in books, pictures, statues, motion pictures, and other media that is intended to cause sexual excitement. The distinction between pornography

(illicit and condemned material) and erotica (which is broadly tolerated) is largely subjective and reflects changing community standards.2

Least helpful but noteworthy, according to Supreme Court Justice Potter Stewart in 1964, pornography is: “. . . I know it when I see it.”3

While terms like explicit and arouse and sexual excitement are standard descriptors of porn, exactly what counts as porn is highly subjective. While it’s challenging to come to a consensus on what porn is, it’s worthwhile to ask critical questions about how porn industries function, who is involved, and what is produced. For the purposes of this thesis, I choose to focus mostly on pornographic video content. I recognize that I have seen a very small fraction of the porn that has existed in history; thus, I do not aim to make grand truth statements about “porn” or “the porn industry”; I recognize that it is as dynamic and complex as any industry and impossible to capture without nuance, context, and subjectivity (Joseph, 2020). My goal throughout this thesis is for you, the reader, to release any preconceived fears or judgements around sex and porn, and to open your mind to possibly seeing porn in a different light.

I am fortunate to be in a position to contribute research to existing knowledge gaps. This topic fascinates me because of my personal experience navigating sexual experiences and own

challenges communicating needs and wants in sexual scenarios. As a sexually active person with my own history, I have a subjective and unique conception of sexual communication because of how it played (and still plays) out in my sexual life. While I cannot divorce my lived experiences from my research, I can be transparent about how they inform each other. As Donna Haraway writes, on the subject of situated and embodied knowledges, “One cannot relocate in any

possible vantage point without being accountable for that movement. Vision is always a question of the power to see” (1988, p. 585).

Inspired by the feminist reflexive research framework, I recognize that I hold multiple

positionalities (Ryan, 2015) as a researcher of sexual-social relations and porn consumption. My

2https://www.britannica.com/topic/pornography

positionalities are entangled, and, depending on the perspective, I could be considered both insider and outsider.

I am a porn scholar studying aspects of the industry from a position within academia and outside of porn, relegating me to the position of outsider; however, as a former intern and collaborator with Blue Artichoke Films, an Amsterdam-based erotic film company, I could be considered a porn industry insider. There are many perspectives on this question of positionality. Some porn professionals would likely still consider me an outsider since I have never been in front of the camera professionally and therefore am unable to truly understand the most vulnerable and exposed aspects of working in porn. I would not disagree with this perspective. Depending on the context and who you ask, I am either an insider, outsider, or hybrid (Joseph, 2020). I say hybrid because there is so much grey space to account for: I watch porn in my personal life for entertainment as well as for research purposes (the line often blurs, but not always). We are all hybrid insiders and outsiders with the topics we engage in; where we are on this spectrum can vary, but I don’t see how it can be possible to be 100 percent on either end. To say you are fully an insider is ignoring the immense variety of lived experiences that can exist within even the smallest circles, and naive to the many thoughts and experiences one can simply not be privy to. To say fully outsider is an unfortunate process of othering, ignorant of the common humanity that links people from many different life circumstances. I believe I can never be a complete insider or outsider when the subject matter consists of human beings.

Multiple positionalities require continuous reflexivity throughout the research process, and while these varied perspectives complicate my subjectivity as a researcher, my hope is that the

combination of my own lived experiences and insider/outsider knowledge can augment my research by providing rich and valuable context to the subject matter at hand.

Primary research questions & sub-questions

Primary research question: When it comes to sexuality, there exists a vocabulary of scientific terms and “dirty” words, but what lies in between? How can porn be a resource to further develop and improve sexual communication for adults?

1. What is the state of sexual communication skills in adults? What are some gaps, or weaknesses, and why is it important to address these?

2. How and why should we analyze porn as an educational tool for improving sexual communication?

a. What are the intersections between porn as entertainment, porn as education, and porn literacy?

i. Are these distinctions possible to make?

ii. If yes, why are these distinctions important for better understanding porn’s influence in modern society’s sexual scripts, knowledge production, and discourse on sexuality?

2. From within the porn industry, what explicit content is being created with the intention to be educational, and what is its history as a subset of porn?

a. How is this content specifically addressing the need for further developed adult sexual communication?

b. What is perceived to be working well and what are some limitations? 3. What are the future possibilities of porn as education?

Theoretical Frameworks:

The critical engagement with sexual communication skills and porn as an educational tool will utilize two theoretical lenses in order to situate the research within broader sexual-social relations. As the researcher, I feel the following theoretical frameworks are most applicable to the research project: Sexual Script Theory (Gagnon, 1990; Simon and Gagnon, 1986; Jackson and Scott, 2010); and a Foucauldian analysis of discourse on sexuality and understandings of power-knowledge-pleasure (Foucault, 1976). I acknowledge that utilizing these specific

theoretical frameworks provides a perspective that differs from what other theories would reveal, and I accept the limitation. I also acknowledge tension between Sexual Scripting Theory and Foucault’s views on the discourse on sexuality; however, instead of letting the tension negate possible theoretical cohesion, I aim to examine the ways these distinct frameworks serve and strengthen each other, thus hopefully providing a more complex view of the sociology of sexuality.

Sexual Script Theory:

John Gagnon and William Simon’s Script Theory was developed in the late 1960s to early 1970s alongside the emergence of social constructivism in the west (Jackson and Scott, 2010). Social constructivism took aim at naturalism and biological essentialism, which argue that people possess innate, fixed qualities such as gender and sexual characteristics. Social constructivism critiqued this notion of “essential” qualities by arguing that the characteristics, qualities and dynamics of people and the social world they inhabit are constantly constructed and

reconstructed by society itself.

Gagnon and Simon see the idea of Scripts as “a metaphor for conceptualizing the production of behavior within social life” (Simon and Gagnon, 1986, p. 98). They outline three distinct realms where scripting takes place: the cultural (macro view of social scenarios), interpersonal (social interactivity), and intrapsychic (mental life) (Gagnon, 1990). These three realms “allow one to organize and link together what people think, what they do, and how they are affected by the sociocultural context in which they live” (p. 169). Social scripts are not rigid or

predetermined; they are embedded in their own historical and cultural contexts and are in constant flux—undergoing the process of reshaping and recreating new practices, ideas,

reflections, messages, and behaviors. Humans are social—there is no escaping social relations— and social relations are scripted, meaning, day to day human experiences are constructed and reconstructed through cultural meaning making, negotiating relational interactions, and internal reflections, all of which interact and play out in the three realms of cultural scenarios,

interpersonal relationships, and intrapsychic mental activity. No experience, feeling, behavior or thought can exist outside of these three realms. While this is an extremely complex and layered process, understanding the construction of scripts and applying the theory to sexuality can help identify the ways in which socially-acceptable sexual scripts are limited. Furthermore, the continuous rewriting of sexual scripting implies the ability to expand script possibilities to encompass a greater variety of human sexual experiences.

Sexual Script Theory was developed from the idea that sexuality is socially constructed. Like other social constructivists, Gagnon and Simon assert the social over the innate (Jackson and Scott, 2010, p. 814), and they make a point to position sexuality as a key attribute of the social

world. However, they do not believe that sexuality is an intrinsically significant aspect of human behavior; rather, Sexual Script Theory “views the sexual as becoming significant either when it is defined as significant by collective life or when individual experiences or development assign it a special significance” (Simon and Gagnon, 1986, p. 104). In other words, sexuality is imbued with significance; it is symbolic, and the significance of sexual symbols is dependent on

meanings given to these symbols by society.

By seeing social scripts as in a continuous process of constructing and reconstructing narratives of social behavior, and viewing sexuality as a similar process of constructing and reconstructing desire through symbolic meaning making, I argue that Sexual Script Theory positions porn as a cultural resource that reproduces dominant sexual scripts as well as subverts them as an act of resistance. The latter establishes porn as a tool to expand sexual scripts and embrace non-normative sexualities.

Foucauldian Critical Discourse Analysis

Michel Foucault, in The History of Sexuality, Vol 1, encourages his readers to “define the regime of power-knowledge-pleasure that sustains the discourse on human sexuality” and “account for the fact that [sexuality] is spoken about, to discover who does the speaking, the positions and viewpoints from which they speak, the institutions which prompt people to speak about it and which store and distribute the things which are said...the way in which sex is put into discourse“ (1976, p. 11). I cannot write about sexual communication and pornography without delving into Foucault’s theory on discourse, and how sex is imbued with various formations of power, knowledge and pleasure within society. According to Foucault, in his 1972 book, The

Archeology of Knowledge, the term “discourse” is a set of statements that belong to a particular discursive formation representing a set of assumptions about the social world (Beres, 2014, p. 8). In this case, sexuality is the examined discourse, and the discursive formations consist of varied communication practices, tools, and methods used to constitute what society understands to be sexuality. The lexicon of sexuality plays a crucial role in the discourse on sexuality. Language carries incredible weight and wields immense power to produce knowledge; knowledge that can oppress or liberate.

Porn, with its complex fusion of sex, art, education, entertainment, language, and bodily expression, is one of contemporary society’s most powerful actors in the theater of sexual knowledge production. This thesis aims to critically evaluate porn, specifically educational porn, and its role in producing sexual knowledge while also acting as a site for resistance to the

dominant discourse of sexuality.

PART ONE: SEXUAL COMMUNICATION

There's a myth in our culture that if we talk about sexuality then we ruin it, and that it’s better if we don't talk about sex, it should just happen naturally—that is the myth. And the reality is it's exactly the opposite: the people who have the best sex are the ones who talk about it.

- Dr. Sheila Silver

Ch. 2 - Importance of sexual communication skills in adults

Before we can examine what tools exist to improve sexual communication skills, we must first look at the importance of healthy sexual communication and gain a better understanding of what skills seem to be missing or weak. I want to know where adults feel communicatively stuck, silenced, insecure, unable, embarrassed, or afraid when navigating sexual scenarios. For example, if an individual is with a new sexual partner, do they feel equipped to handle the communication side of the sexual encounter, such as asking for what they want or need, or being able to reject what is being offered to them? Let's say two people are on a date and they are deciding what to do after the last drink. Do both parties feel comfortable sharing openly about sex and sexuality to the extent that they are both getting their needs met without coercion or confusion? With longer-term sex partners, do they feel equipped to bring up new desires or ideas that may not land well with the other person, but are worth exploring nonetheless?

I chose to focus on adults, rather than children or teenagers, for two main reasons: first, I find there is much less emphasis put on adult, or continuing, sex education (when compared to adolescent or school-based sex education) and I wanted to contribute to this thin body of knowledge; and second, educating adults about healthy sexual communication has a direct impact on how the next generation is raised to regard to sexuality. Educating adults and improving sexual communication skills will benefit their sexual lives and, in turn, benefit younger generations by opening doors of communication, expanding dialogues, and slowly changing the way society relates to the topic of sexuality.

To better understand the importance of healthy, effective sexual communication, let’s take a look at what can go wrong when the communication is weak or breaks down. Long before the #metoo era, but brought front and center by the movement, issues related to unwanted sexual attention, aggression and violence have been pressing topics. Violence and consent violations are complex matters deserving of their own theses; however, both involve understanding the critical

ingredient of any interpersonal encounter: communication, before, during, and after a sexual encounter. Laws around sexual consent do exist with the aim of protecting people from

unwanted sexual conduct, but some believe they often fail to fully address the issue on a societal level. Research suggests “substantial changes in sex education [and] the way sexual knowledge is communicated” (Reynolds, 2004, p. 95). Suggested changes include developing a “‘real life’ approach, based on what we know of how sexual consent is negotiated and recognized,” such as “describing episodes of consenting sex, paying careful attention to the process by which consent was negotiated in each case” (Cowling, 2004, p. 24). Cowling continues, stressing the need for further material development:

A “‘real life’ approach plainly requires further development as more research is undertaken, and it needs, of course, to be turned from an academic discussion into material suitable for workshops or discussion groups” (p. 27).

Safer sex practices are also at stake with poor sexual communication, such as STI transmission and unwanted pregnancy. As Noar et. al. find in their research on safer sex communication:

Research has shown that individuals have difficulty talking about safer sex (Cline, 2003), and researchers should continue to examine realistic and diverse ways that individuals can communicate about such topics including using various negotiation

strategies (e.g., Noar et al., 2002a) and differing sexual scripts (e.g., Edgar & Fitzpatrick, 1993) (2006, p.18).

The sexual communication examples outlined above focus on avoiding harm, but it is important to note that expressions of interest and desire comprise a large part of our sexual language as well. Feeling confident to express desire is an empowering part of human sexuality and can serve to cultivate deeply satisfying human connections; however, returning briefly to the topics of boundaries and consent, not all expressions of desire are clearly communicated or well-received by individuals involved. Articulating desire is just one part of the equation; navigating responses is equally important.

Negotiating wants and needs, clarifying intent, stating boundaries, and accepting rejection are all part of sexual communication and should be taken into consideration when developing

educational tools to help individuals improve their sexual language skills. There are unlimited social contexts where sexual communication plays a role, and whether the intent is to avoid harm or to voice sexual desire, research illustrates a need for better tool—more honest, relevant and engaging methods—to aid in the complicated and vulnerable process of talking about sex.

Data Collection Methods

Interviews - Sexual Communication Skills

For this research, I set out to investigate where adults are perceived to be insecure and ill-prepared when it comes to communicating in sexual scenarios. The term “sexual scenarios” includes the interactions surrounding a sexual encounter, which can mean leading up to sex, during sex, or after sex. I recognize that this is broad, which makes the scope of this project somewhat difficult, but I accept that limitation. Before conducting interviews, I reflected on sexual scenarios I have encountered in my own life, and reflections and observations from peers. Some questions related to these reflections include: with new sexual partners, does everyone feel comfortable and equipped to engage in sexual activity they know they like, pleasure and safety-wise? With longer-term partners, do they feel empowered to bring up new desires or ideas that haven’t previously been explored? If an idea doesn’t suit the other person or people, is space created for a kind and loving discussion that illuminates where the desires are coming from,

offering the option of discussing alternatives, rather than shutting down, taking offense, or feeling ashamed for asking in the first place? My reflections helped form the basis for my interview guides related to adult sexual communication.

To gather insights into the issue of weak adult sexual communication skills, I conducted two interviews with professionals who work in the field of sexuality. I chose to interview

professionals in the fields of sexology and sex/dating coaching because these careers expose both professionals to a wide variety of clients who seek advice for their own sexual lives. I hoped that by interviewing these two, I would be able to gather data on general trends and themes around weaknesses in adult sexual communication skills, with relevant anecdotes or specific cases as examples. One alternative would have been to conduct a survey, focus group, or interviews with a large body of participants in order to gather first-hand experiences. With more time, and in a non-pandemic context, I would have been able to utilize these methods in addition to the professional interviews and would be able to present a more robust data set. However, I feel confident that the interviews I did conduct provided fruitful, poignant data that helped paint a clear image of what many adults feel insecure about or unprepared for when it comes to communicating sexually.

I chose the semi-structured interview style with key questions to cover, but ultimately let the conversation lead the interview. My interview style is inspired by Sharlene Nagy Hesse-Biber’s account of interviewing, where she writes, “I have a research agenda. I want to know ‘a

something.’ Yet I am open to the types of questions I ask...” (Hesse-Biber, 2007, p. 114). I begin the interviews wanting to know ‘a something’ about sexual communication in adults, but

ultimately I let the interviewees lead the conversation based on their expertise and observations.

My first interview was with Dr. Sheila Silver, MA, DHS, ACS, Doctor of Human Sexuality and Board Certified Sexologist. She lives and works in Portland, Oregon and I found her by

searching on Google for Portland-area sexologists. I emailed Dr. Silver with a summary of my research topic and requested a phone interview. She responded and agreed to an interview, saying that the topic of sexual communication is one of her favorite subjects to discuss. We set up an interview for 1 May 2020. In advance of the interview, I reread my research questions and

proposal, read her website, and created an interview guide. The guide consisted of seven open questions, each inviting long form responses; however, I know my interview style is generally to use a guide loosely and allow the interview to be flexible and driven by the natural flow of conversation, as long as it remains on topic. Conducting Dr. Silver’s interview, the guide proved to be very useful and I stayed with the preplanned questions more than expected. I felt that I received rich responses to each of the questions. Interview data and analysis are woven into the sections below.

My second interview was with Asa Baav, Founder of Tailor Matched, a London-based company whose services include matchmaking, dating coaching, and workshops. I found Asa and her company when researching sexual communication workshops while I was still in the

Netherlands. She has developed a workshop called “Your Sexual Language,” which intends to improve individuals’ and couples’ sexual communication skills. I contacted Asa by email and requested a phone interview. She responded and we scheduled the interview for 5 May 2020.

In terms of preparation for the interview with Asa, I followed the same semi-structured format as with Dr. Silver, creating a guide with key points and questions, but leaving plenty of room for the conversation to naturally take its course. Unlike with Dr. Silver, I barely used the interview guide and instead asked follow-up questions directly based on how Asa was leading the

conversation. This worked well because I felt we had a natural, flowing rapport and the content she was choosing to share was relevant, interesting, and leading the interview in a successful direction.

I appreciated having the experience of interviewing both participants with similar guides while allowing for spontaneity and natural flow when conducting this qualitative research. The

conversations were different in style (I mostly followed the guide with Dr. Silver and barely used the guide with Asa), yet similar in terms of thematic content derived from the interviews. More on themes in analysis below.

Sexual Communication Analysis: Where are the weaknesses?

As stated earlier, the goal of interviewing Dr. Silver and Asa was to better understand where adults feel unable or unprepared to communicate sexually—the gaps and weak spots—when finding themselves in sexual scenarios (before, during, or after a sexual encounter). From both interviews, I learned that gaps and weaknesses are extremely common, complicated and exist across gender, age, relationship status, education, and home life factors.

Dr. Silver first began observing the lack of sexual communication among adults when she was a secondary school teacher, early in her career. When teaching the sexual education curriculum, she encountered many parents who expressed relief at having a teacher address sex with their kids so they didn’t have to. It was at this point that Dr. Silver identified a problem with the way adult discomfort with sexual communication can be transferred to their kids. As Dr. Silver said, “they were thrilled that they didn't have to talk about it with their children. That really surprised me, and prompted a long journey, asking, Why didn't my family talk about it, why don't these parents feel comfortable talking about it?” (2020). This is relevant to my research because it speaks to a multi-generational, cultural struggle with talking about sex and sexuality. If adults are not comfortable talking about sex and choose to perpetuate the silences around sexuality, kids and teenagers can absorb those silences and continue the cycle themselves.

It is also important to acknowledge that the line from healthy adult communication to healthy adolescent communication is not necessarily direct. Dr. Silver gave the example of a female client of hers whose mother is a sex education teacher and talked openly about sexuality in the home, and yet, the adult daughter (her client) was very uncomfortable with the subject. Dr. Silver said, “Just because you have parents who are comfortable talking about sex doesn't ensure that you're necessarily going to feel comfortable talking about it” (2020).

This illustrates the complexity of how the social world interacts with sexuality. There is no clear path; there are constantly a multitude of factors at play that affect the development of our sexual selves, comforts, and communication abilities.

Dr. Silver remarked that the majority of her clients seek out advice in the area of communicating sexually, regardless of age, relationship status, or gender. When and how much to share are

challenging for many of her clients. “Certainly for people who are dating, there’s the whole question of, When should I talk about it? When is it appropriate? and, Am I saying too much too soon?” (Silver, 2020). Asa had similar observations from her work as a sex and dating coach. When her clients ask her how to bring up the subject of sexual questions and preferences, she said:

What I always recommend is that people start talking about their desires outside the bedroom. So, even at the early stages of dating, introduce this as a topic, just as we would talk about the countries we want to travel to we should also be talking about our pleasure map...Maybe introducing it by saying, you know, I went to this really interesting talk and they talked about sexual language, and I really learned this about myself...to kind of put it out there and then see what the other person comes back with. So, you can start the conversation outside the bedroom. You're not putting any weight on the other person, you’re just owning your desire and then you can bridge the gap of actually explaining to them why you like it. That can start to form a beautiful conversation around sexual desires (Baav, 2020).

An even greater concern than the timing of initiating sexual communication is the fear that talking about sex ruins sex, that it should just happen naturally where everybody knows exactly what the other people want. The myth is that if you have to talk about it, something is wrong. In the words of Dr. Silver,

[My clients worry], “Am I ruining the moment by talking about it?” I think here's a myth in our culture that if we talk about sexuality then we ruin it, and that it’s better if we don't talk about sex, it should just happen naturally—that is the myth. And the reality is it's exactly the opposite: the people who have the best sex are the ones who talk about it (2020).

Asa also commented on this frequently internalized myth that talking about sex ruins the moment. She finds that many people (including herself for most of her adult life) feel that with sex, it will all fall into place, and that everyone will automatically know what to do and get what they want. “Sex is one of the few areas in life where we think we're going to get what we want without telling the other person. In no other area do we do this. Look at careers, look at sports, even look at making dinner” (Baav, 2020). To emphasize this point, we don’t expect our careers or friendships or hobbies to fall into place without thinking and speaking about what we are interested in, what we expect, and where we feel uncomfortable. Why should our sex lives be any different?

At this point, you might be thinking about sexual communication in own life experience, or perhaps you are wondering what exactly needs to be communicated around sex. Here are some examples of questions that can be explored, depending on the context of the sexual scenario: What turns you on? What kind of touch do you like? Does this feel good? Are there parts of our body where you don’t want to be touched? What kind of barriers do you use? Do you use birth control? When was the last time you were tested for STIs and what were the results? What are your feelings about being exclusive, or monogamy/nonmonogamy? Do you have any sexual fantasies you have never done but think you might like to try? Much of the work both Dr. Silver and Asa do is to encourage people to talk about sex and sexuality with potential and current partners: what they want, what they like, what they haven't liked in the past, what's erotic for them, etc.

Dr. Silver specifically pointed out the distinction between people who are single or newly dating, and couples who have been in a relationship for a longer time. For couples in a relationship, often the problem is that communication didn’t go well in the past and the couple is reluctant to try it again. As Dr. Silver said:

Somebody has felt criticized, or somebody has felt like they haven't known how to express what they want, or they don't really know what they want, they just know what they don't want. So it becomes sort of clunky or emotional or triggering for them. And so then they get kind of paralyzed and stuck and just don't communicate (2020).

Regardless of relationship status, sexually active adult individuals often experience

communication challenges. In addition to the fear of ruining the moment by talking about sex, or being unsure when it’s the best time to broach the subject, many people feel unsure about what they even want to say—the actual words to use when the time comes to speak. Dr. Silver remarked, “I hear a lot of people saying, ‘I don't know what I want, so how can I ask for what I want’” (2020). According to both Dr. Silver and Asa, this is common, and can arise from a lack of experience exploring their own bodies or exploring with multiple partners. Less experience, including with masturbating or exploring one’s own turn-ons, can make talking about it extra difficult. Dr. Silver remarked that the specific challenges depend on what her clients are asking for. The language piece is easier if they want to communicate about something specific to their own body, such as saying “It feels good when you go a little slower” or asking, “Could you start

by kissing and touching other parts of my body and not just focus on my genitals?” However, “sometimes it's more of a mood of how they want the person to start, or what the pacing is, and they don't really know how to explain that or how to convey that. It’s pretty nuanced and more of an energetic thing they're trying to explain, rather than something specific” (Silver, 2020).

Briefly skipping ahead, I would argue that cultural resources, like porn, can help provide examples for people to draw from when attempting to convey more nuanced sexual desires. In this sense, by suggesting to your partner “how do you feel about watching some porn together and I can show you what really turns me on,” you are practicing good communication by advocating for your needs while also utilizing a visual-audio aid, like porn, to provide a mood that language cannot always capture.

Another sticky area of communication is a sexual scenario where a person does know the language to use, but even with the vocabulary, talking about your sex brings up fear about being judged or shamed. One example from Dr. Silver involves a heterosexual couple where the woman wanted to incorporate toys into their sex together. The woman described being afraid to ask, because she didn’t want her partner to feel threatened. She admitted assuming he would feel threatened because her past partners had. When she did finally bring it up, her partner was excited to play with whatever toys she wanted to use, and asked her to show him how she liked to use them (Silver, 2020).

Asa described another example of a heterosexual couple who experienced a communication breakthrough during a workshop to learn more about the vulva. The group was discussing vulva massage, and a cisgender man (who was there with his female partner) expressed that he felt insecure about his ability to touch or rub a vulva, that he didn’t know what to do. His partner turned to him and said, “You can just ask.” He admitted that he didn’t ask because he didn’t want her to think he didn’t know what he was doing. And she replied, “It’s OK. I really want you to ask anyway” (Baav, 2020). On the topic of fear of asking for what you want to know or learn, Asa noted:

When we start to explore our sexual desires and wants and needs, the first step is to be kind to yourself because you will feel a level of vulnerability, you might feel scared. Just know that that's okay, you're trying something new that you may not have done before or haven't done so many times. Be kind to yourself, because your inner voice is going to

come up and be like “Oh my god they're gonna think you're ridiculous” or you will worry they're going to judge you (2020).

Another sexuality professional who addresses the issue of sexual communication breakdown is Kenneth Play. Kenneth is a sex educator, sex coach, porn performer4 and sex hacker.5 In an

interview for the podcast, A Little Death with Alana Heiss, Kenneth describes his take on the myth that good sex should happen naturally:

It’s a problem that people think sex is instinctive only…[they think] that it's not a skill, not a mastery, not an art form. People don't value [sex] education the same way we do with food or with fitness or any other topic like coding or design (Heiss, 2019).

Kenneth discusses how communication greatly improves a person’s chances of having satisfying sex. Related to the couple in the vulva workshop, where the man was afraid to ask about how to massage a vulva, Kenneth remarks on how assumptions or stereotypes, especially along gender lines, can further lead to misunderstandings around sex, when in fact, the problem is a lack of communication education. He says, “A lot of people come in thinking men are inherently selfish; they don't know what they're doing or they just don't care. And then they realize how people are kind and have a lot of empathy but they just don't have the knowledge and skills to fix a

situation” (Heiss, 2020). I reflected on this statement and agree that the majority of people are kind and empathetic, and do want to do right by their lovers, but of course there are self-interested, unkind people in the world who are not seeking sexual betterment. However, to Kenneth’s point, a significant factor in sexual dissatisfaction is lack of knowledge, skill and communication. With these improved, I do believe adults would report significantly higher rates of satisfying sex.

As Asa explained, for healthy sexual communication to take place, the precedent must be that conversations exist within a judgement-free space. This requires a certain level of trust between individuals, which is a limiting factor because not all sexual scenarios include trusting or trusted parties. One way to practice healthy sexual communication is by withholding judgement toward yourself and your partner. If your partner expresses a desire that does not sit well with you,

4https://kennethplay.com/

instead of turning away or acting disgusted by the idea, explore it a little further and come at it from a different angle. Ask, what about that turns you on? Already, that is excellent sexual communication—being able to broaden the conversation from the request itself to a larger discussion on desires and boundaries (Baav, 2020).

The articulation of desires and boundaries should be a dance of loving negotiation. No one person makes the rules for the others to follow (unless that was decided consensually before certain other rules were put in place). As an individual, one can practice saying out loud desires and needs, but unless the other individuals involved are able to hear what is being said, the communication will break down. Sometimes this dance includes rejection. I would argue that rejection is an emotionally-charged yet inevitable aspect of navigating sexual scenarios; processing redirection and rejection is just as important as expressing desire or stating boundaries. I asked Asa how she helps people navigate the delicate territory of rejection, and how to not take things personally if what they're doing is not exactly what the other person wants. She replied with a quote: “One thing to remember is that when they say no to the offer, they say yes to themselves”6 (2020). Asa likes to emphasize that the offer is the focus of

redirection or rejection, not the person as a whole entity. In other words, one way to navigate rejection is to not make rejection about you as a person, and make it about what you are specifically proposing. “As with fear of rejection or fear of anything in life, we need to go out and do it, and practice it and do it more often until we start to see that again we are fine. Rejection doesn't go away...but when we practice [it], we know it's not about us, it's about whether the other person would like to engage with our idea or not, then it becomes less of a big thing” (Baav, 2020). Asa cited an example from her personal life with her partner:

Yesterday, I said, “I’m horny, fancy a quickie? And he said, “Oh, no, I don't really feel like it now.” I said, “Okay cool” like it was no big deal, and it was no big deal, but that's because I've been practicing asking for what I want, sometimes getting it and other times not. But I know it's not because he doesn't fancy me or love me. It's nothing about me. It's just that he was not up for it (2020).

6 No reference for this quote. She recalled it coming from someone named Master Peter. I researched the quote myself and it is used often but not attributed to one person. It looks like a variation on the quote by Paolo Coelho — 'When you say 'Yes' to others, make sure you are not saying 'No' to yourself.'

This exchange might seem simple when written on the page. For some, it is easy to accept rejection, but for others, especially in the realm of sexuality, which can be so closely tied to physical standards of beauty, value and self-worth, experiencing sexual rejection can feel like a rejection of self, instead of a redirection of an offer, as Asa emphasized above. I want to stress how powerful rejection can feel, and how it can shape future action and non-action—as in allowing something to happen that you don’t want because you are afraid of a negative response. This is a form of self-rejection—rejection of your own needs and boundaries. What if rejection did feel more like redirection of an offer rather than invalidation of self-worth?

The myth that talking about sex ruins sex is a sexual script in itself, deeply embedded in our culture and reinforced by a lack of education and a fear of vulnerability. I want to explore how porn that intends to educate can debunk this myth and offer expanded scripts for navigating sexual relationships; scripts that don’t reduce people to actors in an outdated play, but instead honor our curiosity about sex, the vulnerability required, the joy of discovering another person’s body and pleasure, and the fulfillment of allowing another person to discover yours.

Navigating rejection, vocalizing desire, advocating for safer sex practices, and getting consent from sex partners can feel awkward, difficult, and even shameful, but just like any other activity, skills can be acquired and practiced.

First, we must debunk the myth that talking about sex ruins sex. Second, we must begin to understand the power in that myth to shape our perceptions of what sex should be, and how we should “do sex.” Third, we must actively develop ways to flip that myth upside down and rebuild a sexual society that encourages sexual communication; a society that offers tools to practice navigating sexual scenarios and values sexuality for its pleasure and fulfillment, not as a weapon of fear and shame.

Conclusion: Sexual Communication Myth and Scripts

Research shows that gaps and weaknesses do exist in adult sexual communication skills, comforts and abilities. To summarize, adults often feel insecure broaching the subject of

sexuality with potential or current partners, worrying that talking about it will ruin the moment or signify something is wrong. They worry that, if they do bring up sexual needs or desires, it will

be at the wrong time or in the wrong context, creating awkwardness, judgement, or feelings of shame. Some people feel comfortable with the idea of talking, but are unsure about effective language or phrases to use to articulate their feelings. Some feel unsure about how to describe the genital stimulation which they enjoy, or how to describe the pacing or energy of the type of sexual encounter they want. Some are afraid of asking how to please the other person for fear of seeming incompetent. Some sexual partners have attempted to communicate about a sexual issue in the past, only to find that it wasn’t effective, or even felt destructive, so returning to the sexual conversation is avoided.

What is apparent to me in this data is a need for tools to expand social-sexual scripts. It feels as though there are sexual scripts written for only a small percentage of the possible sex plays we as a society could perform, and when we stumble into a new theater with no script, we either freeze or use an old script that is unfitting, or worse, damaging.

As Kenneth Play says:

There's a communication gap. We don't have the social script and culture for people to communicate in a way that is effective. So it's really important to create a lexicon so people can communicate effectively...The communication [problems] are not because people are bad communicators, they just don't know how to communicate about sex specifically. They need language (Heiss, 2020).

Theoretical Analysis of Sexual Communication Script Theory

Research and data analysis has identified some of the many areas in which sexually active adults feel insecure or unequipped when it comes to sexual communication. In order to make sense of the gaps and weaknesses in sexual communication skills on a theoretical level, and identify methods for improvement, I will break down the construction and practice of sexual

communication in terms of sexual scripts, as established by John Gagnon and William Simon.

Script Theory holds the position that humans are inescapably social, and sees sexuality as “representing humanity at its most social” (Jackson and Scott, 2010, p. 814). Communication—

both verbal and nonverbal—is a fundamental method for making sense of the social world, thus it is impossible to decouple communication from sexual-social relations. From the standpoint of Script Theory, communication can be seen as the way humans express the experience of

navigating between the three levels of the social world: the cultural (macro-social constructs), the interpersonal (social relations), and the intrapsychic (mental life) (Gagnon, 1990).

Script Theory evolved over time from a theoretical framework that operated on only two levels: interpersonal and intrapsychic, to incorporating a third level: cultural. Before the cultural level was considered in 1973, scripts were seen primarily as ways to decode and organize mental feelings and emotions and act them out in the realm of social relations (Gagnon, 1990, p. 138). Adding the cultural level provided a much needed macro context to the ways in which

individuals receive messages from larger, sometimes unseen entities about how to think, act and live; messages that inspire the feelings and emotions that are decoded and organized in the mental realm and acted out in sexual-social relations. Before adding the cultural level to Script Theory, a significant influence on human sexuality was being ignored.

The cultural level was developed in part through the analysis of sexually explicit representations, such as pornography, noted as the first examples “cultural scenarios” and described as

“instructions on the cultural level about how persons should and should not behave sexually” (Gagnon, 1990, p. 139). Jackson and Scott later adapt this definition to say that “cultural

scenarios” are not instructions per se, but are available to help people make sense of sexuality as a facet of the social world (2010, p. 815). Cultural scenarios, by the original definition, can be described as sexual narratives that encourage a set of norms, rules, values and beliefs that govern socially acceptable sexual behavior. It’s important to note that Gagnon and Simon urged their readers to understand that the problem was not simply the creation of abstract values and beliefs, it was the pressure to integrate these normative values and belief systems into one's own sexual life. Sexual narratives, or scripts, that stemmed from the accepted values and beliefs created a hierarchy of good sexualities and bad sexualities; to be good meant you lived your sexual life in accordance with the dominant sexual scripts of your historical and cultural context. To be bad

meant conducting sexually deviant or aggressive behaviors (not unlike Gayle Rubin’s sex hierarchy: the charmed circle vs. the outer limits7).

When describing the impact of cultural scenarios on sexual scripts, Gagnon wrote:

Persons learned about life by being given directions about how to act that are embedded in stories with good outcomes and bad outcomes (such stories identify what is to be done [or not done], where it is to be done, when it is to be done, with whom it is to be done, and why it should be done). So it is with sexuality; persons are told if they do this or that, with these people, at these times and places, it will have a consequence (1990, p. 139). Through this lens, it is clear to see how scripts can limit and alienate those who don’t easily live within the accepted narrative. When analyzing sexual scripts is necessary to incorporate the aspect of sexual communication into the discussion, as scripts are constructed and reconstructed through micro-level (interpersonal) and macro-(cultural) level communication. Communication is how individuals receive meaning from the cultural and interpersonal realms, meaning that is processed in the unique context of that individual’s mind at that moment and exchanged through interpersonal interactions in the social world as new sets of ideas, emotions and behaviors. As I see it, the weaknesses in sexual communication illustrated by Dr. Sheila Silver, Asa Baav and Kenneth Play have nothing to do with a person’s inherent misunderstanding of sex and everything to do with a lack of available scripts.

Through the lens of Script Theory, humans do not operate in isolation from the social world, which means all thought, language, and action is influenced by constant interaction in cultural, interpersonal and intrapsychic realms. Thoughts, language, and actions are learned (constructed), which means they can be relearned (reconstructed). This dynamic process thus continues as ever-changing, ever-flowing and embedded in its temporal and spatial contexts.

With this research, I aim to explore possible methods for expanding scripts to encompass a wider variety of sexual scenarios. The desire to expand scripts to include more sexual scenarios links

7 Gayle Rubin’s ‘Charmed Circle’ outlines a hierarchy of types of sex deemed by society as either ‘good, normal, natural, blessed’ or ‘bad, abnormal, unnatural, damned’ (Rubin, 1984). “The types of sex argued by Rubin to be within the charmed circle are; heterosexual, married, monogamous, procreative, non-commercial, in pairs, in a relationship, same generation, in private, no pornography, bodies only, vanilla. The corresponding types of sex in the ‘outer limits’ are: homosexual, unmarried, promiscuous, non-procreative, commercial, alone or in groups, casual, cross-generational, in public, pornography, with manufactured objects, sadomasochistic” (Jones, 2020, p. 1).

directly to my investigation into what sexually active adults feel they are missing in their ability to communicate around sex. As evidenced by my research, silences exist where scripts should be when it comes to navigating sex. Dr. Silver illustrated these silences in her observation of a multi-generational struggle with talking about sex, whereby adults who avoid talking about sex with their kids perpetuate silences around sexuality; silences that kids and teenagers absorb and perpetuate themselves. When I say “where scripts should be” I mean literal scripts, such as practiced phrases articulating desires, pleasure, boundaries, needs, and redirection, to be deployed in sexual interactions. More so, I am speaking to scripts as “cultural resources that do not determine sexual behavior but are available to help people make sense of the sexual” (Jackson and Scott, 2010, p. 815). Broadened scripts can serve to disrupt standard sexual narratives and subvert limited sexual scripts. Expanded scripts are more inclusive and cover a wider variety of sexualities as they intersect with gender and racial identities, sexual orientations, sexual practices, physiological expressions of pleasure and pain, relationship styles, abilities, ages, and any other attribute of personhood that can be considered sexual.

The ability to broaden and rewrite sexual scripts is linked to the concept of power. Power to modify, create, expand, reconstruct. Not in the sense of top-down force, but power in terms of creative potential. The power to broaden sexual scripts is central to Jackson and Scott in their feminist, Foucauldian theoretical approach to Gagnon and Simon’s Script Theory, made evident when they connect Foucault’s theory on power as productive (in addition to repressive) to the notion that the social world is also productive—the social produces sexuality (2010, p. 814) rather than repress it. They write, “scripts are fluid improvisations involving ongoing processes of interpretation and negotiation” (p. 815). It is through this lens that I draw a link between Sexual Script Theory conceptualization of the social world producing sexuality (Jackson and Scott, 2010) and Foucault’s views on the productive, omnipresent quality of power (Foucault, 1976).

Foucault: Discourse on Sexual Communication

Pivoting away from Script Theory to Foucault, we remain in a social constructivist framework but are no longer situated among the cultural, interpersonal and intrapsychic levels that inform everyday sexual practices. With Foucault, the focus shifts to a sexual discourse “capable of

producing categories of sexual being” (Jackson and Scott, 2010, p. 818), discourse that is inherently linked to knowledge and power.

Foucault would argue that power is productive in addition to repressive (Foucault, 1976, p. 94) which signifies its ability to create and regenerate as well as oppress. Scripts evolve in a constant process of construction and reconstruction, a process imbued with productive power. Foucault might say that understanding where that productive power comes from is crucial if we are to understand the discursive nature of sexual scripts and their function in shaping human sexuality.

One of Foucault’s revolutionary ideas regarding power is outlined in his text, The History of Sexuality, Volume One from 1976. In this text, Foucault urges us to rethink the notion of power not as emanating from one central source, but as a network of relations. To Foucault, power is not simple or easy to identify, such as a dictator who asserts control over his civilians; one cannot point to the almighty power source and shut it off or replace it with another power source. The dictator may assume overwhelming political power by declaring rule of law, suppressing civil liberties, and restricting freedom of speech; however, according to Foucault, if we limit our conception of power to top-down only, we are ignoring the myriad of other forms of power that shape our day-to-day lives. The relational dynamic of power—its existence in all interactions, relations, structures—is how power infiltrates and informs people’s thoughts, behaviors, relations to others and relations to self. You cannot escape power, according to Foucault, only strive to understand its existence and the many points of resistance that exist within multiple social networks and discursive regimes (1976, pp. 96-7). Foucault, referring to this

“omnipresence of power,” writes, “[Power] is produced from one moment to the next, at every point, or rather in every relation from one point to another. Power is everywhere; not because it embraces everything, but because it comes from everywhere” (p. 93).

Foucault asks us to see beyond the top-down power structures and to acknowledge the

omnipresent powers within societal institutions, interactions, and messages that continuously fill our physical and mental space: power in language choice in business meetings to the actors in cologne ads and sitcoms; encouragement or discouragement from teachers; social media

in common? They each hold the power to shape mental perceptions of ourselves and of others in comparison to a standard narrative of socially acceptable behavior, of what is right and wrong, of who is accepted and who isn’t. These examples of power are enforced not only by the dictator, but by each of us, at all times, in a process of normalization—a process of creating norms for people within a society to follow.

Why is Foucault’s theory of power significant when it comes to sexual relations and

communication? Just like sexuality is highly relational, so too is power. If I am fixed on seeing power as only coming from the dictatorial government, I may not recognize the many other forms of power that are active in shaping me as a sexual citizen. I could understand the dictator deeming certain sexual practices unlawful, but I might not recognize the power my friends or sex partners have over how talk, how I act and what I believe. Take this real-life example: if a male sex partner said to his female partner, “I normally never go down on a women, but you’re just so pure and innocent that I will this time,” what powerful ideas about normal, accepted sexuality is he conveying? Women should be rewarded for virginal purity and innocence? Sex makes women dirty? Wanting oral sex as women is asking a lot? The dictator didn’t say these things, some guy from the bar did. That doesn’t mean it isn’t powerful.

Omnipresent power, according to Foucault, sees the daily reshaping and remodeling of

individuals that comes from power imbued in relations at all levels of society. Power, therefore, is something not only exerted over me, but something I exert over others—it is relational—in the questions I ask, the behavior I encourage (or discourage) and the information I share. There is power in how I choose to communicate, with whom, when and how; there is power in others’ reactions. When it comes to the discourse on sexuality, power to communicate has a tremendous impact on the shaping of sexual narratives.

Let’s return to the myth that talking about sex ruins sex, as described by Dr. Silver and Asa Baav. The paradigm here is fear—fear that asking for what you want or need will strip you of power and leave you vulnerable to judgement and shame. Following the narrative of this myth, you remain silent and hope the non-confrontational mind-reading technique is effective. What if there was a way to flip this dominant narrative on its head? To resist the urge to stay silent and

instead speak up, ask for what you want, ask the other person what they like, redirect them to a new technique, or shift the mood by suggesting a different activity. Fortunately, according to Foucault, flipping the narrative is possible, because where there is power, there is resistance (1976, p. 95), and that resistance resides within the power network, not outside of it. Resisting dominant narratives is challenging, as humans are social creatures who want to be accepted by society, and following dominant narratives is a way to find acceptance. One way to thwart this fear of exclusion is to provide alternative narratives as role-models of valid and valued ways of being. For example, returning to the myth, by observing someone talk about sex and not ruin the moment or incur judgement, but instead improve the sexual experience, the dominant myth narrative is resisted and an alternative sexual discourse is presented, expanding on what is possible.

The aspect of role modeling is important here, as we learn from behavior being modeled around us. Learning begets knowledge, knowledge begets power, power controls the discourse, and the discourse shapes behavior. Producing and consuming new forms of sexual knowledge, including communicative and linguistic knowledge, directly leads to a broadening of sexual discourses and expanding of sexual behavior. Expanding sexual behavior links to the inclusivity goal of

expanded sexual scripts to serve a wider variety of sexual scenarios.

The natural next step is to examine cultural resources that may be used to produce and reproduce new and alternative knowledge and visions of sexuality. Through this frame I will make a link to educational porn as a method for improving sexual communication, broadening sexual scripts, and expanding discourses on sexuality. Briefly returning to Script Theory, as Jackson and Scott write, “Normative constructions of sexuality may still dominate commonsense understandings of the sexual, but competing cultural scenarios are now available in late modern societies and thus there are competing scripts on which we can draw” (2010, p. 821). In my opinion, educational porn is one valuable “competing cultural scenario” that can provide alternative scripts to the dominant commonsense sexual narratives. In Part Two, I will present a short history on the concept of porn as education, analyze current examples of educational porn, and touch on future possibilities for the intersection of porn and adult sexual education.