I agree, all men should learn about women’s sexuality by reading My Immortal.
Hi friend! Foz here. Just a couple of points:
- I’ve specified good fanfiction in literally the first tweet. While this is, obviously, a value judgement wherein YMMV, My Immortal is famous for being arguably the most terrible fanfic ever written, and is therefore demonstrably not what I’m talking about. Similarly, I’ve seen other responses to this post bring up 50 Shades, which, despite its popularity in mainstream circles, is pretty much universally regarded as being not just terrible fanfic, but an excruciatingly bad and dangerously inaccurate portrayal of BDSM that romanticises abuse. So no: these are not the droids you’re looking for.
- Here’s the thing, though: you already knew that. The decision to respond to this post with a flippant reference to a fic that’s notorious precisely because of its poor quality is exactly why I used up precious Twitter characters to specify good fanfic, even though I shouldn’t have had to. Every mode of artistic expression is composed of good, bad and mediocre works, but when it comes to genres that are traditionally viewed as less worthy or literary - like fanfiction, or romance - we have a reflexive tendency to conflate the bad with the whole, such that the good is implied to be either exceptional or nonexistant. I specified that I’m talking about good fanfiction, not because I think such fics are an exalted minority, but to pre-emptively combat the assertion that they are, and then you’ve gone and made it anyway. So, thanks for that.
- But while we’re on the subject of quality, let’s make a very important distinction. Though fanfic is a largely unmediated medium, it’s not bad; it’s amateur, in the very literal, dictionary-definition sense of engaging or engaged in without payment; non-professional. While there’s a stereotype that lots of ficwriters are teenage girls - which, why is that always wielded as an insult? oh right, misogyny, carry on - a lot of us are, in fact, grown-ass adults of varying genders, some of whom also happen to write professionally in other contexts; like me, for instance. I’ve read fanfics that are unquestionably as good as, if not better than, many professionally published works I’ve read, some I’ve simply enjoyed or felt meh about, and others where I’ve mounted up on my Nopetopus and ridden off into the sunset after the first paragraph. It’s a grab bag, is what I’m saying, but if you think that’s an inherently different spectrum of enjoyment over quality than applies to any other medium, then I’d politely invite you to reconsider the matter.
- In conclusion: fanfic might not be your bag, but it has its own culture of editing, collaboration, publication, criticism and dissemination, its own conventions and subversions of same, its own extensive history and trope awareness, and, yes, its near-unique status as a medium invested in female sexual desire. That doesn’t mean there aren’t other things straight dudes can do to learn the mystical ways of What Women Want like, oh, say, talking to them, always bearing in mind that women are not a goddamn hivemind, but given that there are a frightening number of guys out there whose first or primary exposure to any type of porn is whatever degrading mainstream het they can scrouge up for free without virusing the hell out of their PCs, then yeah: I’m gonna go out on a fucking limb and suggest they maybe balance it out with some fanfic.
This might be the best summary of the power of fan fiction and its inherent lessons about women’s sexuality that I’ve ever seen.
theactualcluegirl, have you seen this yet? I seem to recall some conversations with you along these very lines. Or I could be imagining them because it just seems like a very you thing.
the thing about being someone who’s never catcalled is that you start to wonder why like is it because im ugly???
and then you realize that youre judging your worth by whether or not you are objectifiable to a man and thats so fucked up like honestly its so fucked up
but the worst part about the patriarchy is that it still sits at the back of your mind regardless like “nobody thinks youre pretty because they dont see you as a sex object” like somehow thats a desirable thing and it fucks me up
You’re either public property or completely invisible.
you have an interview next week. you always have an interview next week. The managers who interview you all seem to share the same pleasant, blank face. They promise to call you back in a few days. They never do.
they say the minimum wage is going up soon.
you must have two years of experience. you must have five years of experience. you must have ten years of experience. experience in what, exactly? the job requirements bleed into an ancient latin text as you attempt to decipher them.
the people in the photos in the craigslist ads smile eerily at you. their eyes seem to follow you around the room even after you click away from the job posting.
do not apply in person, the posting says. do not send in your resume. do not apply. we’ve lost too many employees to the creature as is.
you plan on leaving your job soon. you’ve been planning on leaving your job soon for months. you keep making excuses as to why you haven’t left your job yet, but you know deep down that even if you put in your two weeks tomorrow, you wouldn’t leave the company as the same person you were when you applied. if they let you leave alive at all.
you seem to see “help wanted” signs everywhere. when you enter and inquire about them, the employees wave you away. you hear their cries for help again as you leave.
you are more than qualified for the job that you are applying to. you are over-qualified for the job you are applying to.
you do not get the job.
Oh god.
You begin interviewing the interviewer. You know everything about the company, the position, and the person across from you. You don’t like them very much. So you start to train them. Now they know better. They still do not hire you.
A third person comes into the room, you’ve been sweating in your chair for over two hours now. You don’t know why you’ve had three identical conversations with nonidentical people. Maybe it’s a test? Is this the comprehension portion? You always aced those tests.
The personality test says you’re a level 35, and you’re glad. You didn’t feel like a level 17, and no one ever hires level 2 personalities. You add the results with all the other tests in the filing cabinet you can no longer close. The papers that spill out have line after line of your personality traits as if they’ve unraveled your genetic code. You need to fit into the personality group of the company.
You wake up from a fugue state surrounded by writing samples, clutching your chest, heart hammering. It’s four in the morning.
You wonder if 401K is the name of the ghost down the hall. You catch them from the corner of your eye, but you’re never really sure if they are actually there.
A question is asked by one person, but it echoes, a multitude of voices saying the same things, over one and the other. You have been here before. You feel cold.
Tell me about a problem you had and how you solved it?
I am stuck in a loop. Everything is the same. I wake up, I eat, and go to this interview, and then I go again. Every time, the same questions are asked and I can’t stop them. Nothing stops. You just don’t remember me, but I’ve been here before. I remember it all. Everything.
You tell them about the time you solved a problem using customer service skills.
They tell you there’s plenty of jobs out there, They do, Them. You just have to look, so you pick those up. Find some jobs, NO NOT THOSE ONES, THOSE AREN’T REAL JOBS. GO GET A REAL JOB You’re scared. Why are They mad? What did you do? You worry if your job is REAL. Are you real?
Okay but check out this on-point campaign my schools starting ((Lone Mountain is one of the buildings on campus and there’s a ridiculous set of stairs to get up to it))
Um whoa, how cool. The school is seriously doing this? This makes me want to visit again haha.
Do you know what started it?
I’m actually not sure, but the posters say it’s a couple professors from the psych department, design department, and school of management working together on it. The posters should be up next week, I’m stoked
