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Great Expectations

By Pat Randle

I grew up with great expectations.

When I was a little girl, my friends and I would sit around and they would plan their weddings, conjuring up elaborate gowns of satin and belgian lace sur``rounded by lengths of floating tulle, and turning to Brides magazine in search of the perfect veil.

I planned what I'd say when I was interviewed for the cover story of Time or Life Magazine. I wasn't sure how I'd get on the cover. My dreams varied. I'd be the first woman astronaut, or the first woman to win the Indy 500, or the first woman president.

I haven't ended up being any of those things (although I may well have ended up a journalist because of the long hours I devoted to interviewing and writing about my future self).

But a variation on the theme of my childhood dreams stayed with me. I wasn't the "first woman," but quite often I found myself in a similar role: the "only woman." I always spoke up in class, disagreed with my teachers and "the boys." In college, I agreed to speak to a large rally because none of the other women on the planning committee was willing to do so. I led a minor rebellion on my college paper, lobbying my co-workers to stand up to our (male) editors and insist we write an editorial on Three Mile Island, despite the fact that it was the paper's policy to comment only on issues directly affecting the university. I continued to speak up in class and on committees, and made sure my voice was heard.

For the most part, I viewed feminism as a sort of mass coming-to-the-senses among the people around me. It's about time they're accepting the obvious, I

thought, the obvious being that women were equal to men. Organized feminism seemed to be beside the point. When I ran into roadblocks, I ran them down. When someone told me that girls couldn't do something, I replied, quite simply, that I could. The women's movement, I thought, was there simply to spread the message that women were equal, a message I saw as common sense.

Since graduating from college, I've come to realize that common sense isn't all that common. But I still continued to act as the "only woman" or one of a few.

Then, at a company where I was working, we had a conference on "corporate man and corporate woman." During one exercise, small groups gathered in semi-circles to discuss what makes a good manager. The subject of the discussion was beside the point; the decision-making process was what the exercise was about. Two men and three women gathered in a semi-circle. One of the men, Bob, was chosen as the "facilitator." The group discussed how to choose management criteria. The other man in the group, Bill, suggested one method. One of the women, Linda, suggested an alternative. The group went off on a tangent for a few minutes, then returned to the "deciding how to decide" question.

"Now, we agreed to go with Bill's idea," Bob said. Linda, and the others, remained silent. I ran to the "hot seat" and said, "Linda had another way of doing it." Bob looked at me, confused. "No, she didn't," he said, then paused. "I mean, I don't remember that she said anything."

The larger group broke into nervous laughter.

The Sexuality Dilemma

1

By Fern Levy

Recently as I walked to the back of a bookstore to the sex education section (and inadvertently disturbed a young man shyly looking through The Joy of Gay Sex), 1 came across a few books that seemed to promise the solution to all of society's dilemmas around sexuality. How to Make Love to a Woman and How to Make Love to a Man were there, and to complete the trilogy, How to Make Love to Each Other, the one that promises to "raise our sexual I.Q.'s" and acknowledges the reciprocal aspects of making love, something the other two books neglect.

As I wondered about the value of these books and pondered the questionable motives of their authors and publishers ($), my eyes caught another title which appeared to render these "How to" books absurd and useless-The End of Sex. A dark cloud formed over my head: What's the use of learning how to do it right if it's already ending?

As the dark cloud descended, my eyes focused on yet another book entitled Sex Begins in the Kitchen. Just when I feared sex was ending, it was beginning anew, and this time in the kitchen! Is it soup yet? My confusion grew, Here I am, a somewhat mature, somewhat sophisticated thirty-four-year-old woman who has been involved in women's health concerns and sexuality education for years, yet I could not conceive of what all these books were trying to tell

me.

But I forced myself to look through them, read the dust jackets, the introductions and conclusions, and the biographical information about the authors. While the "How to" books appear to presume total ignorance about love-making, they intend only, in what seems a sympathetic way, to encourage all of us

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to communicate more with each other. The author, Alexandra Penney, claims that "People just don't talk enough. People want books about how to make love and how to make love last, not just books about how to have sex.” The End of Sex states that “Sex as an impersonal, fragmented entity is an idea whose time has passed." And the author of Sex Begins in the Kitchen recommends increased and improved communication about sexuality, suggesting that the kitchen is sometimes preferable to the bedroom for this exchange.

But how, I wondered, do others, not involved in sexuality education as I am, react to these shelves of books as well as to the racks of magazines that spew out volumes on such diverse topics as "how to get the zing back in your fling," "in search of the G-Spot," female ejaculation, herpes, acquired immune deficiency syndrome, and extended sexual orgasm (if you could have hour-long orgasms, would you really want to?)? And how do they react to the less redeemable Hollywood movies and television shows that so frequently portray sex more as an expression of power, anger and control than an expression of mutual trust and intimacy?

One obvious conclusion to be drawn from this barrage is that we live in a sex-obsessed society which, at its worst, uses our sexuality to sell such products as liquor, cigarettes, motorcycles, books and magazines. In the end, however, the assault only confounds us more about the meaning of our sexuality and how to integrate it successfully into our lives.

Although we don't talk about sexuality openly and freely, we learn about it from the moment of birth and throughout our lives, not only from the media but non-verbally through our parents, family and friends. It is no surprise that we are confused. After

"Well, she did," I said. "I can't believe it," Bob said. "I really didn't hear it." He looked confused and slightly embarrassed..

I sat there, amazed. My mind focused on two things: when women speak up, men literally don't hear us. And secondly, like Linda, most women don't protest. They let it slide.

Over the next few weeks, I saw the same thing happen over and over at various meetings. Women usually remained silent. If they spoke up, they were usually ignored. And they usually failed to speak up again, even to point out that they'd been ignored. These women were bright and, capable. They worked incredibly hard. But they didn't take the leadership positions, and nobody offered them to them. The men in the groups didn't expect much of the women, and the women didn't expect a lot of themselves.

I found I was weary of being the one, or one of a few, who spoke up, took on responsibilities, and fought for my voice to be heard. I found I was tired of going it alone and I was angry about all the wasted talent and energy.

1 started to talk with other women, about why they failed to speak out at meetings, waiting until afterwards to complain that they disagreed with the decisions that were made. Why, I would ask, didn't you say something during the meeting? The answers came back: I don't feel comfortable speaking in front of people. I can't express myself. They wouldn't listen anyways.

I wondered why the talent and capability that were so apparent to me were not apparent to the women themselves. "You're capable, you're bright. Of course you can express yourself," I'd say. "You just did, to me.'

You asked me, they'd respond. And anyways, it's different in front of a group.

Slowly, I came to realize something I'd never quite

all, many of us learned as children that "Sex is dirty; save it for the one you love.”

So what is this sexuality dilemma that sometimes troubles us, sometimes seems to control our lives and thoughts, and sometimes brings us spiritual fulfillment unequalled by other experiences? We have imbued our sexuality with a power it does not deserve. We have created a mystical aura around our sexuality and, as a result, we have neglected to acknowledge, affirm and celebrate our sexuality as life-enhancing, joyful, and as a natural, integral part of our personalities.

Women are especially victimized. Throughout history, women who were perfectly healthy sexually were told they were not, by their doctors, their husbands, and by the prevailing mores. The male medical establishment particularly causes us anguish by continuing to rob us of our bodies, our orgasms, however we may choose to experience them (heterosexually/homosexually, clitorally/vaginally), and our sexuality. It is time to put an end to this societally-induced oppression and educate ourselves in order to realize our full human potential as women and sexual human beings.

While it is important to understand the evolution of thought around women's sexuality, it is essential first to expand our definition of sexuality. Sexuality exists in everyone-infants, children, the elderly, and in those who choose to be sexually active and those who do not. Most of us learned a narrow definition, one that includes only sexual behavior, either with a partner or alone through masturbation. But sexuality is much more than just having sex. It is an expression of the total personality and we express our sexuality in many different ways, everywhere, every day. Whom we touch and how we touch them, whom we choose to have emotionally intimate relationships with, and how we express our affection and caring to

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