This guy stopped watching porn — and he wants you to know why. Gender activist Ran Gavrieli felt that most of the images he saw in porn encouraged negative, even violent, attitudes toward women, despite a recent wave of feminist porn. So he pulled the plug, and found that his personal sex life and private fantasies became much more fulfilling.
omg! love this!
GOD BLESS THIS MAN OH MY GOSH
I can’t stand the patriarchal misogynous attitude I’ve come across in military policy (and sometimes participants).
This morning, BuzzFeed is featuring a story from Project Unbreakable (website/Tumblr), who work with survivors of sexual assault, photographing them holding a poster with a quote from their attacker. Today’s unique story uncovered stories from men who have been assaulted, and touches base on some of the stigmas surrounding men and sex, with quotes from attackers such as “Don’t worry, boys are supposed to like this,” and “You’re a guy, you can’t say no to a girl like me.”, as well as many threats to hurt loved ones. Many people still don’t realize that yes, man CAN and ARE victims of sexual abuse, not only from other men but from women, and that it is not made any less traumatizing for a man simply because he is a man, and saying things like “man up” does nothing except further dehumanize and hurt the victim. There is, if possible, even more blame put on a male victim of sexual abuse than female because people assume that all men want sex, from any person, at any time. Stop this. Stop the abuse of ANYBODY, stop victim blaming, and stop telling male abuse survivors that men being raped “isn’t a real thing.” You can read the full story and see the rest of the pictures here.
This better get 5 million notes. you better reblog this.
Rape isn’t about uncontrollable sexual desire. You only have to listen in on a Call of Duty game to see that. When that kid crows, “I raped you!”, he’s not calling the other guy sexy; he’s saying he defeated him, dominated him, humiliated him. That’s what rape is about, and that should scare you.
Some points to be made in response to a debate I saw about porn.
1. In response to people saying there is nothing objectively sexist about the abundance of rape and violence in scenes involving women as victims.
My response: If there was porn out there (which, okay, there probably is) that showed African people being lynched by white individuals for sexual pleasure, there would be outrage. There is simply no defense for that. But when the majority of films display domestic violence of some sort (regardless of whether it’s a woman abusing a man, a man abusing a man, man abusing a woman, etc), we say it’s fine because it’s just fantasy, it’s “private,” it’s “fulfillment.” Meanwhile, millions of people (predominantly women) are suffering from domestic violence that is a vulnerable issue wrought with sexual and racial prejudice and belittling (just like porn).
2. Even in do-it-yourself porn (which is very often cited as a “success” area of the industry free of pressures - including in the documentary), the people producing it and putting it out there on the internet can not consent to every possible person who may see and/or enjoy their naked body and sexual actions. Even if they try (for example, sending it to only one person), it is so easy for digital files to travel to people who they didn’t want to see it. For example: parents and/or relatives, murderers and rapists, minors and children, employers, etc.
3. Arguments were made about the fact that many undesirable things are rampant in Hollywood and advertizing, like violence, objectification of women, etc.
My response: this is an argument I see all the time. Very similar to “we should legalize pot because alcohol is legal and it’s way more harmful.” To which I say, you’re going in the opposite direction. We shouldn’t legalize something dangerous because other dangerous things are legal, we should try to get rid of the dangerous things that are legal and/or widespread.
Second: in a film that depicts violence or sex, no one is actually being shot or penetrated. In a typical porno, the women (or man) is being slapped, chocked, anally penetrated multiple times, screamed at, urinated on, etc.
4. “It’s their choice to watch the porn, we can’t blame it on the industries just because people watch it or children see it.”
To which I say: that is true to a very small extent. The current availability and intensity of porn has changed the situation immensely. Ask yourself, for example, what would happen if everyone in the world (including children and other vulnerable populations, possible dealing with life trauma) was given unlimited access to cake. Day in and day out, there were all these different increasingly delicious cakes just sitting on their table. An unlimited amount. Does self-control mean something in this situation? Yes. Is it different from controlling yourself from walking 20 minutes to the store for a cake? Yes.
Also it’s very typical for something that SEEMS really tempting and good to cause long term harm, as applies to porn and cake; so the level of consent and responsibility is in question as well.
5. Lastly, children are watching it. The average age someone first sees porn is 11. 90% of people under 18 have seen porn. One third of the entire internet is used for downloading porn, and more people use the internet for porn than participate in twitter, amazon, and netflix combined. About 25-30 percent of porn users are under 18. There is absolutely no guarantee that they are watching “soft core” porn, because the majority of porn that exists contains some sort of violence, non-traditional sex (gang bang scenes, spitting or urinating, chocking, etc) or encourages things like pedophilia or rape.
6. In response to people who say porn is essential or useful for relationships: 76% of people who watch porn watch it only alone. Many people report increasing difficulty in being satisfied with their partners because of porn, to the point where they have to close their eyes and picture a rape or incest scene in order to orgasm. Also, if you need porn to find each other sexually attractive or want to have sex, you most likely have deeper problems.
I don’t know how to link this like most people do with personal things, so scroll past if you don’t want to read anything emotional.
I turn my head to the right and hold my breath. That’s all I can do is stop as many of my senses as possible: stop the smell of his shoulder, the sound of his breathing. Get my head as far away as possible from him. Stop I think. I scream in my head for twenty minutes. Stop. STOP. Please, I’ll do anything. I want to dig my fingernails into his back, but I know it will be misinterpreted. I want to dig them in so hard he bleeds. Even if it doesn’t stop him, I need to pierce the skin. He acts so soft and that makes it worse. I wish he was violent, because it would fit the pain I’m feeling. But he is slow, gentle, indulgent. I tense every muscle I have. It’s getting harder to hold my breath, especially since the smell is intensifying as the night goes on. When it’s happening it feels like an hour for every minute. But now I only remember it in a blink. I see a picture of myself on the bed, tense and crying, my tears fall on his neck. I look like a fish, a blanket. Something that just doesn’t move but doesn’t matter either. I wish my vagina would just rip and bleed; it’s not pleasurable but it’s still too soft to be rape. It can’t be can it? After all, I’m not saying a word. Not even a sound. All I have is my muscles, and so I squeeze them and I try to close myself off. I’m not open, I say in my head. I’m not for you. I don’t want this. Just get off and I’ll do whatever you want. I just need your skin off of me. I don’t even feel if you’re inside me or not, I can’t focus on anything but the skin I can see and am forced to touch. The pimples and the stubble and the sweat and the hair; I didn’t use to mind them. Not until tonight. When I did this with my girlfriend it was electric. Her fingers were magnificent, like clouds on my skin and a fire inside of me. That’s not how these ones feel. They feel like dirt: rough and so filthy it’s painful. They hurt. They scrape my insides. I didn’t ask for them. I don’t want them in there. I can feel myself getting wetter but I’m sure it’s my body’s defense mechanism, so it won’t hurt so bad. Can’t you look at my face just for a minute? Look at how I’m feeling. Consider why I haven’t moved, haven’t breathed since you started. Can you REALLY not figure this out? Are you that dense!? Are you remembering the last time when I pretended to enjoy it? Did you wear a condom? Did it slip off? They looked too big last time. Did I tell you to use one like I did last time? My bottom half is too numb, I don’t keep up with what’s happening. Did it touch me, that… part? I imagine it gone and nothing seems more lovely in this moment. If it were gone you couldn’t be doing this. Maybe you could do something else to me. But maybe I wouldn’t be naked or on my back; I hate being this vulnerable. This is supposed to be something beautiful and it’s supposed to be mine. I’M LETTING THIS HAPPEN FOR YOU, my head cries. This is for you, it’s for our friendship. It’s so you don’t have to do it with *her* anymore. Then maybe you’ll stop hurting each other. I am sacrificing something that should be mine, that should be nice, just for you. And you won’t even look at me. You won’t apologize like I have so many times. I’m sorry. but I’m hurt. If you’d hit me everything would make so much more sense. How can you abuse me with an act of love? How…?
Next time I’m surrounded by people. It’s light in here I think. Or dark, I can’t really tell. The memory is like a fuzzy television station. Like when there’s a bad signal and all you see is black and white and all you hear is noise. That’s what I remember. I’m not drunk but you are. You smell like alcohol and cologne. I never liked that smell but it’s certainly worse now. I remember facial hair most of all, because that’s the most intimate part that touches me. I’d rather you do stuff down there than kiss me. I’m kind of like an object then: disengaged. It doesn’t feel like someone who loves me. I thought you loved me like a sister, but I was wrong. You don’t love me one bit. You play along because I cared for you; you went with it like a surfer’s wave. But when the tide came in you let me drown. That’s what I feel, come to think of it. The body is on top of me so I can’t get out of the water, I can only stay very still until it’s over. I forget there are people there. Were they watching? Did they see me? All of me? What was I wearing? A shirt? A bra? Fuck if I remember.. I know I was cold. The carpet is rough and your fingers are too. I think I say it hurts. I say it more than once I think? At some point you stop. I breathe for the first time. Why did I let this happen? I want love so badly. I ache for it. I want to be held and validated. I want you all to see me as family, and I believe you do at first. Was I wrong? Was I hoping the kissing and the closeness promised a long-term connection that it didn’t? Did you just not need me anymore, now that I was causing you trouble? Are you too sick like me? I don’t know which one of you I am talking about. I don’t need sex, I need a friend. There are so many thoughts going through my head. What happens after this? I have no memories. Did we fool around more, or did I go to bed? Was my boyfriend with me afterwards? I should never have been such a goddamn whore. I gave EVERYTHING away. My trust, my body, my secrets. You don’t believe the secrets. You cast away my body once you’re done. You don’t hold on to the trust. No. You just move on. Right past me. Keep living. Do you remember? Am I in your mind? Why weren’t you a stranger, I ask myself. I could move on if it was a stranger. Don’t touch me. Just don’t. I miss you…
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