just ask hester prynne

Slut-shaming is a new term, but it’s an old premise. Being a woman who has rarely let the roaring crowds define my life choices, I’m relatively accustomed to being called a slut, and I’ve certainly matured immune to people making me feel ashamed for behavior they see as sluttish.

It’s my belief that I’m free to kiss, canoodle, make out, grope, hump, frottage, finger, fuck, suck and otherwise fornicate with as many humans of whatever gender as I wish, as often as I wish, to the extent I wish, and with the frequency I wish. It also is my belief that I’m free not to. I’ve got the inalienable right to life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness, in short, and in no small part the way I’ve chosen to express those rights is sexually. I am, therefore, fairly impervious to sexual shame.

And yet people try.

To be honest, while I always operated under the sneaking suspicion that I had the right to have sex as much or as little as I wanted, I only fully came to inhabit that credo as an adult. As a teen, I still bought a bit into the good-girls-don’t dominant male-monkey-motherfucker culture. As a teen, I felt shame; people would try to make me feel it, and they succeeded, or they succeeded and failed in equal ratio. It was a war within myself, but that battle has long since ended. I don’t feel shame for sex. I feel shame over the actions I’ve knowingly taken that have hurt someone. Only one or two of those actions are sexual in nature. Real shame comes from treating others badly, not fucking great big swaths of humanity.

So it was, then, an odd experience to have that age-old shame waved in front of my eyes like a pair of dirty cotton panties.

Last Thursday, I had a visit from the last dude I dated. We saw each other from just after the first of this year to a couple of weeks into March, when it became abundantly clear that I found him annoying. Our parts didn’t fit in that ineffable emotional geometry. And despite the fact that he gave, hands down—a phrase I use fairly literally here—the best head I’ve ever gotten, I dumped him.

It was a dumping that he required me to do again and again. I didn’t want to dump and redump. I wanted to dump once and be done. I did it as gently as I could because this man was clearly walking wounded. His narratives didn’t make sense, and not in that lying, prevaricating way; they didn’t make sense in that way that his head was muddled with lingering hurt. He was nice enough; thus, though our relationship had been spiked a bit too prickly with Moonlighting-screwball-comedy skewering, I wanted to let him go gently into that good night.

He wouldn’t let me. I had to break up with him about four times, but then it finally seemed to stick, finally.

This dude came over to drop off my copy of Deadwood Season 3. I lend out my books and my dvds. It’s just a thing. I’d lent him this final chapter of the Deadwood, and though I would’ve chalked that one up to the loss column, I was happy to get it back. This last week, the dude came over to my apartment, DVD in hand. We kissed hello on the cheek, we made uncomfortable small talk.

He asked what was new.

Nothing, I said. Really, nothing.

My mind was kind of a blank. I could dredge up stuff, but I knew everything would make this dude feel down. It didn’t seem to make sense to tell him about the t-shirt with the Molly Crabapple illustration of me in my skivvies being on sale, for example. My mind white as a clean sheet of paper, I seized on something I could tell him.

Oh, I said, I’m going to my thirtieth high school reunion.

“Yeah?” He said and grinned lop-sided, “Are you going to fuck everyone there for old time’s sake?”

Yeah, I said. I’ll text you. I’ll send you pictures.

I looked him in the eye and smiled broad and scary.

On the inside, I was calling him a limber-dicked cocksucker. Because dude was trying to make me feel shame about my past, a past I made peace with a very long time ago, and a peace toward which he clearly felt anger, resentment and even a soupcon of bitterness. This dude was one pissed-off dude and, thank all things perverse and profane, that anger was not my problem.

I ushered the dude out the door. He had in that one question shown himself not to be worthy of an iota of my attention and caring. I knew that I could have taken the opportunity to call the dude on his full ration of crazy and bitter, but to do so would be to engage with him. Fuck him and the shame he rode in on. That wasn’t my pony, and I wasn’t going to hop on it.

See, the thing is this: when people try to make you feel bad about something that you didn’t do to them, when people try to make you feel bad about behavior that has nothing to do with them, when people try to make you feel bad about behavior that never hurt anyone else, those people are showing you who they are. And who they are is small, petty, frightened, angry and threatened.

It’s a strange gig when a full-fledged adult tries to raise the specter of adolescent sex shame from the dead. It’s a weird vertiginous sensation to see your fears waved again in front of your eyes—for I’ll admit that part of my trepidation over going to my reunion is revisiting the people who heaped such abuse on me for…what? Making out at keggers? Giving blow jobs? Having fully protected, fully consensual sex? I have avoided seeing these people for three decades, though now I feel quite proud about attending my reunion. I look good for my age, and I have stories to tell. It’s nonetheless canny of the dude to recognize my trepidation.

But it was mean and a low-down dirty dog move to try to make me feel like crap. For that, he should feel shame… and I can feel consoled with the knowledge that one thing he will never, ever feel again is me.

Shameless, proud, spectacular and irreplaceable me.

Comments

[L]

It seems to me that dudes are the ones handing out the slut-shamings, lately. And not upright religious family-guy, you're-destroying-the-sanctity-of-marriage types, but men who are or would like to be fairly slutty themselves. Which is not to say that promiscuity doesn't have unforeseen and sometimes really unpleasant consequences, at least not in my personal experience. It's just that this breed of dudely shame-mongers is not concerned with protecting me from my wanton self, but would like to displace a whole heap of sexual self-doubt upon my shapely shoulders. Grrr. That was a wanker move by your ex.

[Adam]

I know it's tough; don't feel shame.

You have lived a life many others only wish for, others won't let themselves live for fear of what they might discover.

I have a similar past and though somewhere along the line it became alright for men to rack up as many 'notches on the bedpost' as possible while women are to remain virginal in their purity, I still have had the inevitability of facing those awkward conversations with people I've dated over past partners and my 'transgressions'.

This concept that we are to keep ourselves from living a full, sexual life for that true love we haven't even met yet is completely backwards. I want a woman who has LIVED.

Frankly, I find it refreshing to hear a woman talk openly, honestly, unapologetically about sex. It's one of the things I love so much about my current gal.

Anyhow, I hope you enjoy your reunion and hold your head high. That incredulous look you see in others often times hides a secret envy.

[Pete]

CG,
Another comment based upon the inequities that society fosters about female sexuality. You made your choices and you deal with them in an appropriate manner. Your ex seems to be striking out due to the fact he has been dumped and since he is out he decides to try to shame you with a stupid low comment. One should not burn bridges, because one does not know when that bridge might be needed.
As usual you put words together draw a great picture.
Pete

[Mike]

Wow, I could never say that to a women. I would've at least tried to be a little charming to see if I could get some action to make it a pleasurable conclusion. The only reason why I would go to a reunion would be to see if I could hook up with one of my old teachers, a fantasy I haven't fulfilled yet.

Mike

[abraxas]

Yes.. the worst of sluts are shamed by being forced to star in a reality show.

[monica]

I think most men are afraid of women and that's why we're raised the way we are. I wish I could own myself the way you do. Thank you for writing. I find you so very inspiring!

[Mike]

Speaking of high school reunions, I have to do a 10 page persuasive essay for writing class. Times like this, I wish there was some Chelsea juice I can take to get my nerve cells fired up.

[Sam]

If I could "like" this I would. Thumbs up, girlfriend. You are amazing.

[chelsea g. summers]

Aw, thanks you all. I love the free validation. It means the absolute world to me.

I'd go on, but I have a migraine and am befuddled. Know that I appreciate you and your words and am delighted that you find meaning in mine.

kissykiss,
chelsea g.

[1st Republic 14th Star]

You did get "Deadwood" back, so you've got that going for you. What a great show -- I kept watching right to the end of season three when it was clear that the show wasn't going to be renewed and the story lines started to become more and more far-fetched. If you haven't seen "Justified" on FX, I recommend it. Timothy Olyphant is as intense in this new show as he was in "Deadwood", and some other "Deadwood" actors turn up in new roles on "Justified".

I've never been to one of my high school reunions, even though I now live in the same city where I went to high school. I didn't like many of the people with whom I went to high school, and I decided I would never go to a reunion unless I could show up everyone else. My next one will be the 30th. I think I'm at the point where I can say "maybe I'll go".

[Edgy Mama]

Hey C,
Sorry I haven't checked in on you in so long. I thought you'd stopped the blogging gig, but I'm glad you haven't. I've missed shameless, proud, spectacular, irreplacable you!
xoxo

[LL]

Chelsea!

My best blogger, my first favorite sex writer, my literary hero.

I'm so glad you're back.

I've really missed your writing.

With Love,
LL

[His wife for now]

Weird..I was just reading in a forum a post by a pompass ass in response to a woman's request for a little more erudite conversation...he and she started bantering books back and forth and hester was mentioned...I felt a little stupid (as I am sure he inteneded) in not placing the reference, but got it when she rejoined with a couple of hester pryne titles and a brief note about why he might have mentioned her...funny how the very thing you run across in one place pops up the same day in an unrelated venue...anyway...I enjoy what ive seen so far, high borw referances and all and will read a bit more..margie

[Lola Sanchez]

There is no need for shame. Like you said, you chose to indulge in consensual, fully protected sex. What in the world is wrong with that? You can look in the mirror with no regrets or shame.

[drea]

What an a-hole...

Have a great time at your reunion!

-drea

[mark]

Oh... so they are calling you "slut" as a bad thing? Shame. I love me some sluts.

[Lance]

It stung me a bit to read that you've been parched for praise, a crop on my ass spurring me forward to the comments section. Your blog is my blue-ribbon favorite, and I've long since thrown the red and yellow ribbons away, disgusted with the dearth of worthy contestants. There is no second place, no other virtual wordsmith that I visit with frequency, or discuss at parties, or know the URL for, or bother with in any other sense, unless you count Tycho from Penny Arcade among your peers. He does bear fruit with a delightful Monday/Wednesday/Friday predictability that I wish I could have from you, but now I'm just asking for Chelsea on tap, like all the other boys.

I've been cheating on you recently with Chase Twichell, and indeed it was her use of language - at once ineffable and startlingly precise - the reminded me to come and see whether and how much you've been writing. If you've not already read her it's a pleasure not to be missed, and if you have you'll know the compliment of association immediately.

Certainly she's a different style of mistress, frequently despairing at the very moment of pleasure in bold contrast to your own joyful, lusty cadence.

My best, and my gratitude...

[Adrian Hardhand]

Just so. Shame is an attempt to control other human beings. Give 'em hell!

Yrs in pervery, Adrian

[Disconnected]

Interesting.
I would agrue that one of the reasons for this re-emerging trend of slut shaming is the popularity and growth of pick-up artist mentality and techniques, which are based on a reductionist mentality and dichotomize the genders, so that the sexually aggressive male has a space to conquer the sexually submissive woman.

The problem with the PUA approach is that it works, it delivers results for users and therefore represents a pervasive philosophy. The guy in your case may well have been trying to insult you intentionally as a method.

[Liras]

Oh goodness. CG, I am shocked that any guy over the age of 25 thinks that pulling out the slut crown and attempting to make a woman wear it will work.

I know about the double standards, I know about the limited rewards that playing coy may bring. But it is just tacky to call a woman a slut or to imply that she is one.

I am glad you are comfortable being you. Shame he is not so.

[geoff]

What a fucking jerk.

Did you go to your reunion? Are you going to write about it? We're all ears out here on the internets. Listening to this this morning, seems apropos.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SqkPq73sJR4

(It's a rock song, no video. But it makes me sad and happy, so good, right?) (Shit, should I have used a colon there? English teachers, sheesh.)