Fifty Shades of... Something

I’ll be the first to admit that I am late to this party. Fifty Shades of Grey has been a pretty big deal the past few years, and due to my inner hipster nature, I had no interest in reading the book or watching the movie. Until yesterday, when curiosity took over and I watched the film. I want to preface this post by saying that human sexuality is a natural part of existence. If consensual BDSM is your thing, rock it. The act of sex is natural, and consensual sex can be beautiful with floggers, handcuffs, blindfolds, ice cubes, food, or whatever floats your fancy. Consensual sex can be about physical expression in the most respectful and open ways possible. I emphasize the word CONSENSUAL because that is not what I witnessed in FSOG. From what I experienced, the storyline propagates a sexist, rape culture which condemns healthy sexual communication and experiences

The narrative is fairly well known by now - a wealthy, attractive, male billionaire meets a romantic, female, soon-to-be college graduate, and awakens her sexual desires by dominating her in almost every way possible. The nuances of how he awakens her sexual desires have peaked controversy over the last few years, and with good reason. I can almost guarantee had the main “dominant” character been a woman, the books wouldn’t have made it off the shelf; because, let’s face it, our culture has a difficult time with women in power (why do you think there are so many wage discrepancies between men and women who are in the same employment positions?). Although Grey states he originally became involved in BDSM through a female dominant, the fact that he is now the dominant of women (notice he had no male staff?) communicates that eventually men are always in “control” (bring on the sexist undertones). However, this control becomes tested when Grey meets Ana, as he loses control multiple times, throwing respect for sexual consent out the window. 

Let’s delve into some of the nuances:

1.      The mind-fuck. While the story begins as harmlessly as possible (slight stalking and intimidation), Grey attempts to handle sexual consent in a business-like manner, stating that he would not touch Ana until he had her consent. This stayed true… for about ten whole seconds, as Grey mouth rapes her in the elevator a few scenes later. Though the thought of having someone attractive take charge in an elevator can be romantic and sexy, the fact of the matter is this incident began a string of mind-fucking, where sexual consent was never explicitly given throughout the entire movie. In actuality, the entire storyline is based around her not once giving explicit consent! He draws up a contract, she never signs it or even mutters the word “yes”, and yet the plot is okay because he creates pleasure for her. People who have been mind-fucked before could relate to what was happening. Grey begins slowly, attempting to get to know Ana, which progresses to her becoming “his”, as though she were an object. He even had difficulty with Ana visiting her mother, and flew across the country to pay her a visit. Though I’m sure some women found this terribly romantic, and Grey’s character does seem to care for Ana, it reinforces the thought that men of means (and people in general) can cross boundaries to dominate their partner’s lives. Throughout the movie, I was given the impression Ana didn’t want to sign the contract, yet because he was giving her pleasure, it was okay for him to experiment with her consent.

2.      The only time explicit consent is given for Grey to do anything to Ana is when she asks to be punished. This indicates that sex is ultimately about shame for women – conveying women inherently are bad, and need to be punished for making their partner unhappy, or engaging in sexual acts at all. Ana did not agree to this punishment because she was sexually curious or aroused, she agreed because it would please Grey. Another reminder that women are only there to please men, even at their own psychological, physical, and emotional expense.

3.      The loss of her virginity. While sex does sell between the innocent, virgin girl and the experienced billionaire, this scene doesn’t grant any positive messages about the consensual loss of virginity. First, the girl is 22 (I’m assuming, since she’s graduating from college), and said she hadn’t lost her virginity yet because there was no one she wanted. This implies she was remaining a virgin until she could meet Grey, the man who could change it all. It is possible she was probably a virgin for more than just that reason; but all of these reasons ever so bluntly become brushed aside when he says her virginity is a situation to be “rectified”. Grey takes her into his room, and takes her virginity, without asking, and without receiving a yes. What does this communicate to men and women about being a virgin? To me, FSOG seems to be communicating that virginity is anyone’s for the taking and does not have to be willingly given.

4.      Smart girls will be dumb for a guy; and guys are largely out of control when it comes to sex. Ana appeared to be a relatively intelligent woman, yet due to the mind-fuck, and Grey’s schlong, she was willing to consider being an object for a man she barely knew. Grey prided himself at being in control at all times, and yet when it came to Ana, he lost control, and this loss of control justified the lack of consent. How does this not perpetuate a sexist, rape culture?

5.      Finally, everyone is working from their own experience, and we each carry our own baggage at all times. It is obvious Grey had his own baggage to sort through, though Ana and the audience are only given a glimpse at what it could be. However, because Grey is “fifty shades of fucked up”, he is allowed to take it out on those he can dominate. Being in the mental health field, this was one of the strongest messages I received. This message was incredibly layered, as it showed that while we all have own our stories, the most devastating ones are the ones to operate from. Subsequently, if your partner is operating from a destructive story, it is okay to let him/her destroy you at your own expense. This message was communicated from a relational standpoint, and anyone could find justification to stay in an unhealthy relationship from what was conveyed through Ana and Grey’s relationship. Lastly, both Ana and Grey state they feel as though they are being changed by the other, only perpetuating the belief most of us have about not being good enough for our partners, and require us to change for them.

             There is no doubt that Fifty Shades of Grey is great erotica. If this storyline is your thing, fantastic. I’m not attempting to bash on it, merely trying to expose some of the messages being communicated to everyone, everywhere. Though the movie is rated R, many adolescents have the intellect and resources to be able to watch it without anyone knowing, and what are they learning? How is this storyline reinforcing and altering men and women’s belief systems about sex, consent, BDSM, and most importantly, themselves? We are conveying these intricate, unhealthy messages through multiple forms of media, yet no one wants to have a discussion about it because it’s uncomfortable. The individuals who have written about these nuanced issues pertaining to FSOG largely rest on one side of the pendulum or another: either they despise the story because of how it relates to their religion; or they love it because it is a free expression of sexuality, regardless of how the characters are psychologically treated. We need to open up the discussion about sex, consent, and limits, to avoid unknowingly propagating a sexist, rape culture. In doing so, we reinforce equality, and remove ourselves from the shackles of an oppressive system.

Storytelling and Santa Monica

              For the longest time, I have felt afraid to express my story. I felt any story belonging to me was unimportant compared to what others must also be experiencing. Perhaps this is why I am in the field I am in (counseling). I am, and always have been, a listener, partly because I felt as though my story was not as important, and expressing my story took space away from others to express theirs. While this is beneficial for counseling, it hasn’t suited me well in most of my personal interactions. I have learned that many people in my life, even those whom I consider dear friends and family, do not know me well because I have not allowed them to get to know me. This, in turn, spiraled to the point where I lost myself. My story wasn’t important, therefore I became unimportant, even to myself. As the spiral continued, it became a vicious cycle. I began to project my need of importance onto others, placing the responsibility of my importance onto them. How could they return this, though, when I didn’t feel worthy to begin with? I think most people, in one way or another, do this. In some way they feel unsatisfied, unworthy, undeserving, unimportant, etc., and rely on those closest to them to fill the void only they themselves can fill. There are different ways of doing this, of course: some may beg for approval, while others push it away, perpetuating judgement. It is this critical judgement of ourselves that prolongs an empty space where we feel eternally lost.

            In the last week or so, I have learned that my story matters. That I matter. My story is different than your story, my beliefs may be different from yours, and isn’t that wonderful? This difference doesn’t make either story, or person, unimportant. It makes the virtual reality we live in beautiful, amazing, painful, and overwhelming. I think this is why I initially began this blog – To communicate the stories that matter to me and bring meaning into my life. So, in a roundabout way, here is my story from this past week, while I was rediscovering parts of myself in Santa Monica, CA:

            Some people may be aware, and some may be unaware, that my partner of almost five years and I split last month. Though the break was amicable, it was much like a divorce, and each person was devastated. In times of acute emotional distress, I noticed that my fight, flight, or freeze responses were engaged. I also noticed that these responses were mirrored in the people around me who knew I was in distress. Some were engaged to fight with and for me, some decided to flee, and some froze, wanting to help, but not knowing how to proceed. It was truly remarkable to see the fantastic support system I have around me. In hopes of beginning to recover from the considerable loss I experienced in the last few months, I flew out to California, to visit my dad, find space and clarity, and get some time in the sun (because Utah was the new Seattle for the month of May).

            Initially, flying alone was a strange experience for me. I believe I have only flown alone one other time, when I was 18. Flying and traveling alone puts external validation into some real perspective, as the only person who can validate your experiences is you. At first this was uncomfortable, and left me feeling strangely vulnerable. A dramatic shift happened on the way back, however, and I began to feel comfort with my own validation.

            I landed at LAX, picked up my rental car, and entered the parking lot that is the 405. Seriously, I will never complain about Utah drivers again. I followed my dad into Santa Monica, and his place of employment, where the awkward introductions began. Don’t get me wrong, it was great meeting my dad’s colleagues, but a sense of awkwardness existed when I knew, 1. I will most likely never see these people again; and 2. There was a sense of pride radiating from my dad that my humility didn’t quite know how to handle. After that, my dad, stepmom (Ana), and I walked down the 3^rd Street Promenade, and had some lunch at a delicious little Italian restaurant. I decided to rest a while and unpack, while Ana went to the grocery store. When she and my dad returned, we decided to catch a movie (Pitch Perfect 2) at a dine-in theatre. Each seat was your own personal recliner, dinner was served to you, and they had a full bar you could order from (aca-believe it). Color me sold!

 Third Street Promenade

            The following day was spent catching up with my step-sister, Bianca, and meeting her adorable daughter, Baylani. I love how unfiltered and innocent children can be. We spent a lot of time at the beach (hello, sunburn), and then Ana and I walked up and down the Santa Monica Pier. That evening we went to the Hollywood Improv, where Damon Wayans Jr. was part of the line up (a.k.a Coach from New Girl). He was hilarious, and I was definitely a little star struck. After grabbing some oreo cheesecake from a local bakery, I chalked that day up to a total win.

            The next day, Thursday, was a special day for me, as I was able to visit my Aunt Tonya in her now home town of Carpinteria on her birthday. Carp is a tiny town 10 minutes South of Santa Barbara, with only three stoplights and incredibly friendly people. We often said she lives in paradise, as she has the beach on one end, and mountains on the other. We ate lunch next to the beach, walked around the small town, visited a peaceful, local beach (more sunburn), wandered around a serene import store called The Sacred Space (the Dalai Lama had even been, and they roped off the chair where he sat!), and tasted delectable Indian food in Santa Barbara. It was a wonderful day spent with an amazing woman. After returning back to Santa Monica, my dad and I spent a great deal of time talking and bonding.

            Throughout our talk the previous night, dad and I decided to have a daddy/daughter day at Universal Studios, since the park was so close to Santa Monica. However, before we left, I received a paining phone call: my grandfather, the man who was a force to be reckoned with, had passed away that morning. If these losses have taught me anything, it’s to freely express emotions I used to repress. So, I cried. To be perfectly honest, I have probably cried more in the last nine months than I have in my entire life. I used to be the person to hold it all in until the straw broke the dam (and usually the straw was some sort of physical pain the emotional pain could be released through). Now, while crying can be exhausting, it’s also incredibly freeing, and I don’t think I could revert, nor would I want to. Dad and I decided to go to Universal Studios anyway, because what could we do being in California? I had an absolute blast with my dad, and felt myself find some peace while riding adrenaline rushing rides.

Harry Potter World is coming! Squee!

            I prepared for my flight home the next day, and took one last trip down the 3^rd Street Promenade where numerous street musicians and entertainers were playing. Most everyone has experienced the chaos that can occur with personal silence; but in that particular moment, I found personal silence within the chaos. It was a beautiful thing. I learned many things from my trip, and came to a few realizations that I intend to carry with me:

1.  I am important, and my story matters.
2. No one else knows my story, and I will never know theirs.
3. I am only part of someone’s story, and that part is their version of me. Likewise, people are part of my story, and that is my version of them.
4. Looking inward will grant me the answers I need.