A change of perspective on sex

Let’s talk about sex.

At Princeton, there are a variety of reactions to this relatively simple request. We could make a dirty joke. We could blush. We could launch into an erudite conversation about the “hookup culture.” We could morally object to sexual promiscuity or even to the question itself.

Students at other colleges are much more open about sex than we are. Yale and Georgetown have weeks devoted to events that openly explore sex. Harvard has a sex magazine called the H-Bomb. Boston University has Boink, and the University of Chicago has Vita Excolatur.

Here at Princeton, the conversation is a little different. We talk about sex, but mostly in the context of whether we should be having it at all, with an occasional foray into the realm of sexual violence. The Daily Princetonian article “Tigers on the Prowl” has been much picked over in the past month, but I was disturbed by the assumptions that students made about what other students wanted from sex. I was alarmed not by the fact that students were “hooking up,” but that they made sweeping generalizations about what Princeton men and women want from each other sexually, assumptions that seemed to be based less on fact or experience than on speculation. The problem isn’t just one article: The way that we talk about sex at Princeton is flawed.

To begin with, it’s impossible to communicate with each other when we’re not on the same page. There is no consensus on what “hooking up” means. Is it sex? Is it making out? There is a lot of hand wringing about the “hookup culture,” but I have trouble understanding what people object to. Is it the sexual activity, the lack of commitment or the influence of alcohol? Is it that Princeton students don’t seem to think they have alternatives? Are we bothered more by the lack of communication before the hookup or afterward? The conversation goes in circles, and we’re nowhere near the answer to the most basic question: Do Princeton students know what they want from sex? And are they getting it?

What we should be doing is talking. And questioning. And pushing our boundaries (if not physically, then mentally). There’s a term for this kind of discussion: “sex-positivity.” This term doesn’t imply that people who don’t ascribe to this philosophy are “sex-negative,” but it does indicate openness about sexual issues and the notion that perhaps we shouldn’t be able to count sexual orientations on one hand — maybe they shouldn’t be numbered. Because all of our sexual orientations, as well as our sexual expectations and sexual conditioning, are unique, we need, as a community, to engage in a frank and open conversation about what we want from sex. I’m not talking about encouraging or condemning promiscuity; you can be sex-positive while also remaining abstinent until marriage. What I’m talking about is actual sexual liberation — the freedom to discuss what we want, and seek it, without judgment.

At Princeton, we skate endlessly on the surface of the issue, through debating whether premarital sex is moral or how oxytocin affects women or if we live on a sexually “liberated” or “conservative” campus. No one approaches the issue with an open mind: We’re just spouting our positions and waiting for the other side to get angry. This seems perverse, considering that we all seem to agree that sex should be taken seriously and especially because, as college students, it’s something that’s relatively new to us.

For some people, sexual mistakes are a part of life. For others, sex is something that can never be entered into lightly. Some of us think we know exactly what we want from sex; some of us admit that we have no idea. But the fact is that we’re all in our teens or early 20s, and none of us is an expert. Right now, during the time in our lives when we’re just beginning to explore our sexual identities, we can’t allow sex to be treated so explosively and with so much anger and fear. Sex can be wonderful, confusing and emotional; it’s not always pleasant, and sometimes it’s dangerous, but it should not be polarizing.

So if we’re going to talk about rape and shame, then let’s talk about orgasms, too. Don’t just assume that you know what other students want. If we’re going to say how much we hate the “hookup culture,” let’s talk about the potential for better sex and promote the middle ground between abstinence and promiscuity. Let’s stop making generalizations about what our campus sexual culture is or should be. For once, let’s actually talk about sex.

This conversation has just begun, in a group called Let’s Talk Sex. If you’re interested in joining, please e-mail me. For this group to work effectively, we need voices from every end of the sexual spectrum. The only qualifications are a desire to talk and a willingness to be open.

Amelia Thomson-DeVeaux is a sophomore from Charlottesville, Va. She can be reached at ajthomso@princeton.edu.