Lilac Wine :: a warzone towards haiku

October 6, 2010


Filed under: Text — Tags: , , — Lilac @ 9:50 pm

Theory: calling me a slut is no more degrading than calling me an engineer. Each is a limited scope of self.

If I get to interpret slut as a quality, I’ll take empowered woman with a taste for free love. I know the sensations I like & I’m learning how to get them, not indiscriminately, but discriminating only on my own terms. Also, excess is a sensation. Fear is. Diving into the unknown is. If I want these, I may go into certain spaces & be immersed – take your theme parks, I know parties which are roller coasters.
If I take slut as sex worker, then it’s interpretable in as many ways as there are forms of sex work. Sex workers have varying levels of choice with their partners, and of agency with their actions.

Slut implies your sexuality is worth paying for. It also implies that you sell it. And the way people spit that word, it implies you sell for less than the going social value. I think there’s a lot of insight wrapped up in the way we discuss sex work.

To understand your body as something given & traded is smart. Right? Prostitution is the oldest profession. Sexuality gets bartered in vanilla relationships, too, with varying degrees of honesty regarding the value and enjoyment of that transaction. Sluts keep that transparent, and everyone is happy, unless they’re looking in and they’re not..

So maybe calling me slut lets me focus, rather than degrading me.

Or, maybe the grades (degrader “degrade, deprive (of office, rank, etc.),” from des– “down” (see dis-) + L. gradus “step” ) are of social worth, rather than personal lows, levels of happiness, etc. There’s an aspect of degradation which breaks one out of the social contract; where you go next hurts, but it may or may not make you feel genuinely less. Degradation can be simplification. Transformation. Some degradation makes you less, but you learn it’s okay to be less for a while. Or you learn what it is that makes you feel less, and retrace that path to become more. It’s a shaman’s journey into your psyche.

Or: it’s just a gift of power exchange.

As a brat teenager I liked to assert, I never signed the social contract.

Degradation is a two-way street – what kind of man abuses his lover with harsh words ‘n mousetraps? Not a ‘good’ man. Not (in the eyes of most) a kind or skilled lover. But: a brave one.

We go in together, like adventurers. In the low places is, by definition, something we disregarded and forgot. Down in the dust struggling with powerlessness, worshipping that which controls us, we’re able to exist in a real and immediate sense. We’re fallible creatures; and for a while we don’t have to buy into our culture’s standards of perfection or equality. We get to be unfiltered, and free; we’re the best anarchy available in the city, sheltered by the walls of an apartment or dungeon, liberated into a pirate utopia.

We turn around and create a society which furthers our anarchy. (Sells whips, teaches fireplay, organizes events.) My childhood crush on the noble savage meets your violent boyhood fantasies. We get legitimized ‘n connected. Then we go in and express it better and better, pendulum swinging from eloquence to purity.

And so on.



  1. I always felt that the word “slut” was saved for women who fucked her friends husbands,boyfriends.Thats all it meant to me.

    Comment by Kelly — October 7, 2010 @ 7:51 am

  2. The post on being a slut you link via Twitter. How meta, slut. :)

    Comment by Fistandantilus — October 7, 2010 @ 8:43 am

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