Tuesday, February 19, 2008

The Hot (er...well...college-educated, white, urban, wealthy) Woman's Handbook

Part I Gallagher and Kramer’s The Hot Woman’s Handbook: The Cake Guide to Sexual Pleasure is titled “On Your Own,” and it addresses personal issues concerning women’s sexuality. The introduction to the book, titled “The World According to Cake,” voices CAKE’s mission statement and promotes a new vision of female sexuality, one in which women are “more satisfied and in control than ever before” (1), and one in which women can have “more options” (2) than what they previously have been exposed to. Gallagher and Kramer also claim that CAKE “set[s] the record straight”—the record being the “disconnect between how women are portrayed and how women really live” (1). They also tout “The Cake Philosophy” in which women like to initiate sex, get turned on every day of the week, are visual, fantasize, know how to get themselves off, like sex better than shopping, know how their bodies work, and say that sex isn’t over until they orgasm (3).

Although CAKE claims to refute limited views of women’s sexuality, I found Gallagher and Kramer’s “philosophy” rather monolithic. In their narrative, Gallagher and Kramer effectively reclaim sexuality on an intimate level by relating women’s personal experiences, but I find the personal narrative style simultaneously intimate and problematic. It is problematic because, until chapter three, Gallagher and Kramer use no other sources to explain complex scientific, sociological and emotional phenomena—it is entirely based on women’s experience, which is inherently influenced by patriarchal cultural norms. Such a style has wonderful potential to incorporate cultural critique, but Gallagher and Kramer do not take advantage of this opportunity. Stereotypes and universal statements such as “You’re no more than eleven years old” (8) instead of the presentation of a plurality via “perhaps you…” or “you may have” present a vision of female sexuality that is based on a linear trajectory that all women have allegedly experienced. (On another subject, Gallagher and Kramer briefly acknowledge the rather monolithic class and educational background of their audience in their introduction, but then tout their lifestyle as though it is the norm for all women. See the “Pleasure Tip” on page 66 that references a “Murakami Louis Vuitton handbag […] that you bought for, like, $9 million.")

Chapter 2, “Rock you Body and Reap the Rewards” addresses body image. Although the order of the chapters in the book addresses the trajectory of female sexuality as originating with the female herself (a good thing, in my opinion), Gallagher and Kramer still use the language of the patriarchy to describe females. As they describe feeling good about your own body, Gallagher and Kramer say “your tits look perky, your tummy is smooth, your bottom looks rounded, and you think, ‘Ohhh, yeah, take that!” (21-22). They acknowledge that unrealistic standards of female beauty are “pure fantasy” (23), but they do not explore systems of patriarchy at work that perpetuate this fantasy, nor do they offer an alternate language to describe women’s bodies—they continue to refer to the bodies of celebrities and models as “perfect” and “free of blemishes” (23). In my opinion, linguistics is infinitely important; calling these bodies perfect and calling anything outside that norm a “blemish” perpetuates the system.

Chapters 3, 4, and 5 address masturbation—the techniques (ch. 3), the tools (ch. 4), and the orgasm (ch. 5). While I think that The CAKE Guide to Female Sexual Pleasure is a much more comprehensive, female-focused alternative to Cosmo or similar magazines that young, sexually interested women might be reading for advice, I found these chapters linguistically problematic as well. Although a few phrases peppered throughout the book acknowledge lesbian sex, it is primarily seen as a mode of experimentation or fantasy (“Surrender the Pink” on page 41 is a pretty good example) through which you can achieve better sex with your man (for example, page 77). Gallagher and Kramer’s heteronormativity, alongside their reluctance to acknowledge these fantasies and modes of female sexuality as socially located within their own experience (in terms of their urban location, heterosexuality, race and especially class) is disturbing to me, especially since they present their vision of female sexuality as though it is the norm. They use exclusive—not to mention patriarchal—language alongside the testimonies of mainstream media-influenced women to present this sexuality instead of exploring linguistic alternatives and offering challenges to a consumer culture.

Questions to think about:
Gallagher and Kramer claim to offer an alternative narrative about female sexuality. To what extent does their vision liberate women in their sexuality, and to what extent are they just promoting their own limited vision (another “version of the feminine mystique" [25])?

What do you make of Gallagher and Kramer’s narrative style? I’ve made my position clear, but there are definitely arguments for and against scholarly research for popular publications. What place do personal narrative and scholarly research have in publications such as this one? How can or should they coexist?

What subliminal cultural messages are at play in this book, and where can we identify them in both Gallagher and Kramer’s language and in the language of the women they interview?

3 comments:

Laura Groggel said...

Thanks for the constructive criticism you offer in this post, I agree with you on many points particularly the point you made about their monolithic argument.

In response to your first discussion question I think that Gallagher and Kramer actually widen the “disconnect between how women are portrayed and how women really live" and in that sense they are creating/perpetuating their own feminine mystique. I felt like they were claiming that to fully know oneself, you must be willing to explore and experiment sexually (a lot). In some of their responses to women who said they never owned a vibrator or had never ejaculated, their sarcastic tone of "that's OK- but seriously you need to do this" was evident. I was exhausted by the end of the first section, and I think a lot of it was because the female sexuality that was portrayed is one that plays up the female stereotype of the over-libidious, sex-crazed woman. Do we, as women, have to constantly be labeled as either the "pure/asexual/pleasure-giving woman" or the opposite- the woman the CAKE guide presents "completely in touch with their sexuality and in no way ashamed of writing graphic descriptions of their last orgasm-type woman"?

Janne said...

Miriam,
Thank you for interesting and thought provoking questions!

I would like to respond to your second question, because the narrative style and the use of the pronoun "we" is something that made me think twice. As I was reading, I thought back at when I first read "Our Bodies, Ourselves," which consistently uses the pronoun "we" to describe a wide variety of experiences and identities. I remember reading this and feeling a strong sense of sisterhood and unified diversity. With Gallagher and Kramer's use of this pronoun, however, the effect is quite different. Rather than celebrating sisterhood and diversity, they present, as you say, "a vision of female sexuality that is based on a linear trajectory that all women have allegedly experienced." This does not give a voice with diverse experiences -- to women who grew up with gender identity struggles, or in a GLBT community (I, too, found the first chapters strikingly heterosexist), or who do not spend "like $9 million" on a purse.

Anne said...

Excellent response; a careful summary of the main points and thoughtful assessment of these. The discussion questions are helpful.
Anne