racism

12 Days of Girly Juice 2021: 8 Brilliant Books

Kate Sloan

At time of writing, I’ve read 44 books this year – yay! Reading has given me so much pleasure during the pandemic, with its ability to sweep me away into worlds that aren’t wracked by quick-spreading illness and quicker-spreading fascism. (Well, sometimes I do read books where those things are happening, but not typically ones set in our world.) It’s been a much-needed respite from the grind of life.

Here are 8 of the books I loved best this year. You can check out the full list of books I read in 2021 here. Would love to hear from you in the comments if you’ve read any of these, or if you have others to recommend!

 

Torrey Peters – Detransition, Baby

She decides for the ten thousandth time that heterosexual cis people, while willfully ignoring it, have staked their whole sexuality on a bet that each other’s genders are real. If only cis heterosexuals would realize that, like trans women, the activity in which they are indulging is a big self-pleasuring lie that has little to do with their actual personhood, they’d be free to indulge in a whole new flexible suite of hot ways to lie to each other.

This book absolutely exploded this year. It became a national bestseller. The New York Times and Entertainment Weekly called it one of the best books of the year. It got longlisted for the Women’s Prize (to the chagrin of transphobic bigots). And the praise is well-deserved, if you ask me.

Trans writer Torrey Peters’ debut novel is a witty, dishy tale of three people with vastly different relationships to womanhood, who ultimately discover their similarities and find some common ground. Reese is a brassy, world-hardened trans woman who desperately yearns to be a mother; Reese’s morose ex Ames was once a trans woman, but has since detransitioned for reasons that become clear later in the book; and Katrina is a no-nonsense cis woman who Ames accidentally gets pregnant, which is the catalyst that kickstarts the events of the story.

It’s a blazingly funny novel about womanhood, motherhood, the absurdity of gender, the mutability of family, and so much more. I loved it.

 

Leigh Cowart – Hurts So Good: The Science & Culture of Pain on Purpose

I have come to think of my experiences with masochism as a kind of biohacking: a way to use the electrochemistry of my body in a deliberate way for the purpose of curating a specific experience. Something about my response to pain is different, be it inborn or learned (or both, I suspect). It’s something that allows me to craft a little pocket of joy for myself, an engineered release, be it through running a few miles uphill, getting a tattoo, or getting slapped in the face for fun until I cry.

I’ve read a fair number of books that explore sadomasochism through various sexual and romantic lenses, but Hurts So Good is a different kind of book. It investigates a much broader range of masochisms, from kinksters getting whipped in dungeons, to ultramarathon runners exhausting their bodies for the fun of it, to competitive hot pepper eaters scorching their mouths to get an endorphin rush. This is a book about “pain on purpose,” in all the various ways humans seek it out.

I’ve been more and more interested in reading about pain since it became an everyday part of my life due to fibromyalgia, and there’s a fair bit of nerdy pain science in here that scratched that itch for me. But it’s also so much deeper than just brain imaging and neurotransmitters: Cowart examines the psychological, social, and even spiritual reasons that humans have pursued pain through the ages. It’s a fascinating read, whether sadomasochism is a part of your sex life or just a topic you find intriguing.

 

Hanne Blank – Straight: The Surprisingly Short History of Heterosexuality

Historically, what heterosexuality “is” has been a synonym for “sexually normal.” Early in the history of the term, it was even used interchangeably with the term “normal-sexual.” And there, as they say, is the rub. “Normal” is not a mode of eternal truth; it’s a way to describe commonness and conformity with expectations. But what is most common and expected, in terms of our sexual lives or any other aspect of the human condition, does not always remain the same. Sexual expectations and behaviors, like all other social expectations and behaviors, change over time.

It’s always good to re-examine the things you think you know, to figure out whether they are actually true. More often than not, you’ll realize you’ve gotten it at least partially wrong all along.

Astute scholar Hanne Blank examines heterosexuality that way in her excellent book Straight. Our current society takes for granted that straightness has always existed, because it is the natural order of the species and a procreative imperative, blah blah blah – but has straightness always existed? Blank argues, quite convincingly, that it is a relatively new construct we created for ourselves, and that sexuality is now and has always been much more fluid and vague than the strict category of “heterosexual” would lead us to believe.

If you’re scoffing as you read this (“How could that possibly be true?! Straightness is real! Science says so!”) then I think you are the type of person who mosts needs to read this book. It is my view that some of our most significant growth as humans happens when we’re able to soften our rigidities, blur the boundaries we’ve drawn, and apply a lens of nuance to the world – and this book is a challenge to do exactly that.

 

Kai Cheng Thom – Fierce Femmes & Notorious Liars

I wanted to protect you, but I’m starting to think that the best thing you can do for people is teach them how to protect themselves. Every girl needs to be at least a little dangerous.

Kai Cheng Thom is a transcendently brilliant writer, whose work I first read in her advice column for Xtra. This book is a bit of a departure from her typical style: it’s a surrealist novel and a “biomythography” of Thom’s life, meaning that it draws elements from her own life story but is vastly more magical and absurd.

It’s the tale of a young trans girl coming out, moving across the country, finding community, and fighting back against the transphobic powers that be. It has a lot to say about how we grow and change as people, the transformative power of good friendships, and the beauty of stepping into your true self.

 

Allison Moon – Getting It: A Guide to Hot, Healthy Hookups & Shame-Free Sex

What makes casual sex casual? What makes sex sex? It’s a fraught subject, raising issues of morality, pleasure, risk, trauma, and choice. My job is not to convince you one way or another, but rather to give you good information to use to make up your own mind. I promise I won’t shame you for your choices, and I hope you don’t shame other people for theirs.

Gift this book to any young person you know who is interested in, or is pursuing, casual sex for the first time. Gift it to your recently divorced friend who hasn’t dated since the pre-Tinder era. Gift it to anyone whose relationship to casual sex seems tricky, confused, or painful. I really think it’ll help.

Everything that sex educator Allison Moon writes is delightful, but this book is really indispensable. It’s a guide to just about everything you need to know to have satisfying and healthy casual sex, from figuring out what you want, to finding dates, to setting boundaries, to navigating consent, to dealing with tricky feelings that come up. It’s a blueprint for the best sex of your life, whether casual or not.

I deeply wish I’d had this book when I was 22; I could have spared myself a lot of bad sex and broken hearts. But at least it’s out in the world now, and can help a whole new generation of sex-positive cuties.

 

Casey McQuiston – One Last Stop

The first time August met Jane, she fell in love with her for a few minutes, and then stepped off the train. That’s the way it happens on the subway—you lock eyes with someone, you imagine a life from one stop to the next, and you go back to your day as if the person you loved in between doesn’t exist anywhere but on that train. As if they never could be anywhere else.

Wanna read a quirky butch/femme romance novel that takes place primarily on a subway train, weaves in true queer history, features time travel as a prominent plot point, depicts rich and realistic queer friendships, and contains countless LOL-worthy jokes? This is the one.

I got somewhat obsessed with Casey McQuiston’s writing this year, devouring this novel and their other one, and starting to read an advance copy of their next one (being a member of the press has its perks sometimes!). Their work is sharp, full of heart, and shot through with a deep reverence for queerness and queer communities. I laughed and cried my way through this novel and almost wish I could erase it from my memory just so I could experience it for the first time again. It’s a beautiful love story for the ages.

 

Aubrey Gordon – What We Don’t Talk About When We Talk About Fat

I describe mine as work for fat justice. Body positivity has shown me that our work for liberation must explicitly name fatness as its battleground—because when we don’t, each of us are likely to fall back on our deep-seated, faulty cultural beliefs about fatness and fat people, claiming to stand for “all bodies” while we implicitly and explicitly exclude the fattest among us. I yearn for more than neutrality, acceptance, and tolerance—all of which strike me as meek pleas to simply stop harming us, rather than asking for help in healing that harm or requesting that each of us unearth and examine our existing biases against fat people.

As a massive fan of Aubrey Gordon’s podcast with Michael Hobbes, Maintenance Phase, I don’t know why it took me so long to get around to reading her book, but I’m very glad I finally did. It’s a thorough skewering of our society’s rampant anti-fat bias and all the various ways it manifests. It’s compelling and impeccably well-researched, and it should be a required text for anyone studying to become a doctor, therapist, social worker, or policymaker.

Fatphobia and diet culture are horrendously potent forces in our world right now, affecting how fat people are treated on both macro and micro levels every day. What this book points out, using evidence collected from a staggering amount of different reputable sources, is that anti-fat bias is largely predicated on the false notion that significant, sustained weight loss is possible for the majority of people. In reality, being fat isn’t all that different from being tall, in terms of how genetics create that condition and what can be done about it – but the discrimination and harassment fat people face is obviously far worse. If you’ve ever fat-shamed anyone for any reason, you should read this. If you’ve ever stayed silent while someone else was being fat-shamed in your presence, you should read this. If you’re feeling resistant to reading this because you disagree with its argument, you should read this.

It’s 2021. There’s no excuse whatsoever for being a bigot anymore, and that includes being a fatphobic bigot.

 

Jeremy O. Harris – Slave Play

For almost a decade I’ve given myself over to someone who doesn’t dignify me who acts like he’s the prize and I’m the lucky recipient. No motherfucker I’m the prize. Always have been, always will be. Somehow I forgot that. Or I never knew that. How could I? Got so wrapped in you so wrapped up in your presentation. That I forgot myself because when someone presents themselves as a prize you receive them as one.

I was lucky enough to see this play twice on Broadway, and also decided to read the script so I could absorb the words more deeply. It is a truly unique piece of theatre.

At the centre of this story is “race play,” an edgy and controversial kink in which racial differences and/or tropes are eroticized. I first learned about this style of play from Mollena Williams-Haas, a submissive Black woman who identifies as a slave in her D/s dynamic with her partner. (She has a new podcast, by the way – it’s amazing.)

Accomplished playwright Jeremy O. Harris (who also produced the terrific virtual theatre put on by Fake Friends during the pandemic) has weaved a story wherein race play becomes an element of a radical new therapy, aimed at helping the Black partners in interracial relationships experience more comfort, pleasure, and safety with their non-Black partners. It’s a raw exploration of race, class, kink, consent, privilege, power, and so much more. In my mind, the primary message of this play is that self-awareness, and awareness of one’s ancestral history, is crucial if we are to move through the world in ethical and progressive ways. This is a deliberately challenging play – the stage directions on the opening pages counsel the director and performers to avoid any attempt to make the audience feel more comfortable with what they are seeing – and it feels very needed at this time in history. I very much look forward to seeing whatever Jeremy O. Harris does next.

12 Days of Girly Juice 2020: 1 Fantastic Company

Kate Sloan

Here it is: my last 12 Days of Girly Juice post of 2020!

Today I’d like to bring your attention to a business I think you need to know about. They’re called ShopEnby.

Normally I highlight toy-makers here – and if I was doing that, I would need to give major shout-outs to some of my faves of the year, New York Toy Collective, Dame, and Glitter Tops – but ShopEnby has been through such a rigamarole recently that I felt it was important to feature them here.

(Content note for what’s to come: this post contains discussions of racism, transphobia, and – briefly – racist and transphobic murders.)

The store is Black- and trans-owned. Its organizational systems and product descriptions are crafted to be inclusive of a broad range of bodies and identities. The owners donate 2% of all proceeds to “a rotating list of small underfunded organizations focused on improving the lives of Queer/Trans People of Color.” Their selection of sex toys, gender affirmation gear, and wellness products is carefully curated and top-notch.

All their boundless awesomeness notwithstanding, ShopEnby faced some troubles recently when Wild Flower Sex – a sex toy company known to be disrespectful to Black femmes (more info here) – threatened them with a lawsuit over the usage of the word “enby,” because Wild Flower makes a vibrator by that name.

You know, “enby,” the colloquial term sometimes used by non-binary people to refer to themselves? Yeah. Wild Flower claimed that that word is theirs. Theirs to use, for profit, and no one else’s.

While it’s certainly their prerogative to use that word for themselves (and indeed, Wild Flower’s cofounders use they/them and he/they pronouns respectively, though I don’t know whether they identify as non-binary or as enbies), no one can own that word. It would be as ridiculous as trying to trademark terms like “lesbian,” “gay,” or “bisexual.” These are labels of identification and ways of finding community, not commodities to be bought or sold.

In response to the threats, ShopEnby set up a legal defense fund on GoFundMe, which you can still donate to. You can also support them by making purchases from their store. I can heartily recommend, for example, the Magic Wand Rechargeable, Dame Arc, and We-Vibe Rave, all of which they sell. If you believe it’s better to support marginalized small business owners than big-box stores of dubious ethics, this is a lovely way to put your money where your mouth is! (It may be too late to get gifts for this holiday season, but Valentine’s Day is coming up fast…)

It was particularly shocking to see the news about the threatened lawsuit in a year where Black people and trans people have been so prominently targeted. Granted, those groups are targeted in various ways all the time, but this was the year when George Floyd and many others were murdered by racist police, when trans people were killed at record levels, when a beloved children’s author showed her whole ass by perpetuating dangerous transphobic rhetoric on a massive scale. Black and trans people have been through more than enough this year, and every year. How dare anyone try to take away a word that causes no harm, helps many people feel more like themselves, and does not – cannot – belong to anyone except the entire community it represents.

12 Days of Girly Juice 2020: 4 Fun Events

Kate Sloan
Wow. Remember crowds?

While plotting this blog series, I considered swapping out this list of my fave events of the year for something more… timely. After all, as far as in-person events go, we’ve seen better years, to say the least. But as far as virtual events go? This was very probably the best year on record.

So here are the 4 events that stuck out most in my mind this year – some in-person, some virtual. I’m immensely grateful to everyone involved in making each of these happen, because this year needed a whole lot of brightening and they managed to brighten it.

(I’m not going to write about my wedding here, by the way… not because it wasn’t one of my favorite events of the year, but because that feels like a cop-out!)

Get On Your Knees

How could I have known what comedian Jacqueline Novak‘s one-woman show Get On Your Knees would be like? All I knew about it was that she was funny and well-reviewed, and that the show was about blowjobs. There are so many different ways a person can talk about blowjobs – I should know – so I wasn’t sure what to expect.

What ensued was a meandering and deeply personal show-long monologue about Jacqueline’s formative fellatio experiences. Her fears, her insecurities, her failures – and also her triumphs, her joys, her successes. She stalked around the stage, mic in hand, ranting about scrotal skin, vulva shame, and the inability to turn off her racing thoughts while giving head. Each and every observation felt fresh, relatable, and outrageously funny.

Part of the reason I do what I do here at Girly Juice is that women have traditionally been discouraged from talking openly about their sex lives – especially if they enjoy sex, especially if they’re critical of the men they have sex with, and especially if the types of sex they prefer to have are considered non-standard. To see a successful female comedian speaking frankly about sex on stage – in a manner both vulnerable and hilarious – reinvigorated my courage and drive to do what I do. I’m so happy Jacqueline’s show got the critical acclaim it deserved, and I know she’s changed the comedy landscape for the better.

The Beaches & Goodbye Honolulu at the Danforth Music Hall

Remember February? Ahh, ignorance was truly bliss.

On February 28th, I flew home from a weeks-long stretch in New York. The reason I’d picked that day was that on February 29th, I had a ticket to go see my brother’s band open for the Beaches. All I knew about the Beaches, going into this show, was that Max’s band had toured with them before, knew them pretty well, and respected them a lot. I knew they were an all-girl group, and some internalized misogyny led me to assume that they wouldn’t rock as hard as Goodbye Honolulu does. Well, I was very wrong.

Sitting in the cushy balcony of the legendary Danforth Music Hall with my parents, I had a quasi-religious experience at that show. Nothing out of the ordinary happened, at least not for the bands; they played their guitars and drums and basses, sang and screamed into their mics, strutted around the stage in hot outfits. But it had been a while since I’d been to a proper rock show, and I felt high even though the only “substance” I’d consumed was a beer from the bar downstairs. I was completely captivated by these bands – first the boys, and then the girls – their talent, their drive, their intensity.

Afterward, I walked out onto the snowy street, dazed and cleansed. I didn’t know, at the time, that this would be the last music show I’d go to in-person for a very long while. But knowing what I know now, I couldn’t have picked a better last hurrah before lockdown.

Abolish Police in Canada teach-in

It had been a few years since I’d been to a political rally, so attending an No Pride in Policing teach-in/rally at Nathan Phillips Square in late June was powerful.

Black and Indigenous activists spoke, read poetry, sang, and played music – some from afar via Zoom, some right in front of us – about the harm police have caused to their communities, and the structural changes that need to be made. Matt and I sat on the pavement, surrounded by hundreds of other (mostly masked and socially-distanced) rapt onlookers, and listened, clapped, and cheered.

The opposition to the event, while expected, was still disheartening. Police on bikes swarmed the perimeter; racist anti-maskers sprayed droplets with their enraged screams. But people attending the event, either as performers or onlookers, dealt with these threats in peaceful and purposeful ways, usually just blocking the opposition’s path to the stage so they couldn’t disrupt the proceedings further.

Since it happened around the same time Pride usually does, and was put on by the No Pride in Policing coalition, this was decidedly a queer community event. It felt so amazing to gather with other queers in service of a vitally important goal – defunding the police and redistributing their budget to other, more worthy causes – during Pride month, a time that’s always been political for us. The work being done by Black Lives Matter Canada (not to mention the organization’s other chapters worldwide) is absolutely phenomenal; I only hope that privileged policymakers start actually listening to them sometime soon.

Theatresports Online

The Bad Dog Theatre has been one of my favorite places for over 14 years. Unfortunately, now, it’s no longer so much a place as a community – both because the pandemic has prevented in-person gatherings, and because the pandemic has caused the Bad Dog to have to give up its physical space for the time being. They’re looking for a new one, but until then, we still have online shows to look forward to.

The programming put on by the Bad Dog this year made every week feel about 15% more bearable for me. Whether their improvisors were performing impromptu plays about love and sex, playing Dungeons & Dragons over Zoom, or interviewing fake “experts” about their fake books, they made me laugh so hard I cried every time I tuned into their YouTube channel.

Theatresports is the Bad Dog’s flagship improv show. I think the first time I ever saw an improv show in my life (that wasn’t an episode of Whose Line Is It Anyway), it was a Theatresports show. It’s a competitive shortform show where two teams go head-to-head to see who can create the funniest scenes and games. In its online form this year, it was hosted every week by Tom Hearn, a vivacious beacon of brightness forever wearing elaborate drag makeup and randomly breaking into song between scenes.

Every time I had a hard week, whether related to pandemic stress, work stress, family stress, or literally anything else, I always knew I could sit down in front of the TV on Thursday night and the Bad Dog crew would keep me company and crack me up. They helped get me through this hell year, and I know I’m not the only one they helped in that way. I can never thank them enough for the laughs they served up in 2020.

 

What events made you happy this year?

12 Days of Girly Juice 2020: 8 Brilliant Books

Kate Sloan
This is the closest thing I have to a bookstore pic from 2020 since everything has been closed for so much of the year 😭

One minor silver lining of this hellish year: not being able to go to places I’d normally go, or do things I’d normally do, left me with a lot of extra time. Some of that time was funnelled into video games (look, Tom Nook needed my help, okay?!), and some of it went into reading books instead. I spent many an hour this year stretched out in a hot bath, candles lit and Kindle in hand.

So far in 2020, I’ve read 31 books – here’s the full list, if you’re interested – but these 8 really stand out as my faves of the year. Thanks to my Kindle’s highlights functionality, I’ve also been able to pull a favorite quote from each, to give you a little taste. Read on and read up, bookworms!

 

The Mind’s Eye by Oliver Sacks

I had heard stories of people living in rain forests so dense that their far point was only six or seven feet away. If they were taken out of the forest, it was said, they might have so little idea or perception of space and distance beyond a few feet that they would try to touch distant mountaintops with their outstretched hands.

I went through a major Oliver Sacks phase in the early part of this year. Mr. Sacks, if you don’t know, was a British neurologist who also happened to be a magnificent and evocative writer. Typically, his books are filled with eloquent case studies about actual people he’s helped, usually gathered around a particular theme. The Mind’s Eye is themed around all things visual, and profiles people with various disturbances in the visual sectors of their brain, like face-blindness and neurologically-rooted color-blindness.

In the latter sections of the book, Sacks also tells the story of his own loss of stereoscopic vision when a tumor deprived him of the use of one eye. His books are always fascinating to me as someone who is nerdy about oddities of the brain, and this was one of my favorites I’ve read.

 

Station Eleven by Emily St. John Mandel

“Has anyone been informed? Who do we call?” “I should call his lawyer,” the producer said. This solution was inarguable, but so depressing that the group drank for several minutes in silence before anyone could bring themselves to speak. “His lawyer,” the bartender said finally. “Christ, what a thing. You die, and they call your lawyer.”

Soon after the coronavirus became an international news story, I started looking into books about pandemics, because sometimes wading right into your fears and worries is the best way to cathartically slough them off. One of the most-recommended pandemic novels on Twitter back in March was Station Eleven, a thrilling story that starts in a Toronto theatre on the opening night of a Shakespeare play, and ends many years later, by which time the world’s population has been decimated and society entirely restructured.

This book felt healing and reassuring to read, because so much of it is about the ways that art, music, theatre, and literature create opportunities for hope, optimism, and connection, even in irrefutably terrible times. It was also just a genuinely fun read, full of unexpected twists, memorable imagery, and well-drawn characters.

 

The End of Policing by Alex S. Vitale

By conceptualizing the problem of policing as one of inadequate training and professionalization, reformers fail to directly address how the very nature of policing and the legal system served to maintain and exacerbate racial inequality. By calling for colorblind “law and order” they strengthen a system that puts people of color at a structural disadvantage and contributes to their deep social and legal estrangement. At root, they fail to appreciate that the basic nature of the law and the police, since its earliest origins, is to be a tool for managing inequality and maintaining the status quo.

I reviewed this book just after reading it, so I won’t restate myself too much here. I’ll just say that this book lays out argument after argument for defunding the police in a way that is clear, cogent, and persuasive. If you’re on the fence about this issue – or even if you still think the police are an upstanding institution, despite so much evidence to the contrary – I think this book would be particularly informative and helpful for you.

 

Black Buck by Mateo Askaripour

Reader: Wally Cat is many things, but a fool he is not. What he told me that day was a sales lesson in disguise. The quality of an answer is determined by the quality of the question. Quote that and pay me my royalties.

This brilliant debut novel follows a young Black man as he gets plucked from a low-paying job and hired as a salesman at an almost entirely white startup. It touches on racism, and confidence, and capitalism, and the scarcity of opportunity.

It’s also one of the funniest books I read all year, easy. The voice Mr. Askaripour crafted for his protagonist is sharp and witty, friendly yet dark, goofy but sincere. This was a pleasure to read from start to finish.

 

Girl on the Net: How a Bad Girl Fell in Love by Girl on the Net

It’s a bit hard to put sex to one side when I’m talking about romance: to me romance has usually been a route to sex, like a Valentine’s card with surprise dick joke inside. A love story that doesn’t involve the odd knee-trembling grope or sticky-lubed handjob feels as incomplete as breakfast without coffee.

The sex blogger known as Girl on the Net is a legend – easily one of the best writers in my genre, always smart and often hilarious. This book tells the story of one of her long-term relationships, with a man who luckily happened to be pretty chill about the whole “sex blogger” thing. (Trust me, this is a surprisingly difficult quality to find in a man.)

It’s equal parts romantic and sexy, stuffed with life lessons that’ll help you both in and out of the bedroom. And it’s all written with GotN’s signature wit. If I’d been able to take public transit this year, I’m sure I would have turned some heads by laughing too hard on the subway while reading this.

 

Polysecure: Attachment, Trauma and Consensual Nonmonogamy by Jessica Fern

I will not lie: the work to heal our personal traumas and attachment wounds and the effort needed to build polysecure relationships are not easy. It takes courage, devotion and perseverance, but please trust me in knowing that it is worth it. As we heal our past, we open up new possibilities for our future.

This year I became increasingly aware of the ways my trauma history impacts the way I feel and behave in my present-day relationships. I took Clementine Morrigan’s online class on trauma-informed polyamory, and I read this book, and between those two things + getting a savvy new therapist, I feel that I’m firmly on the path to healing, though there is likely still a long way to go.

In this book, psychotherapist Jessica Fern (who is totally charming – she guested on a Dildorks episode) lays out the ways that attachment wounds can complicate non-monogamy, and what can be done about it. This is absolutely a must-read for anyone who wants to be non-monogamous but finds themselves continually triggered or re-traumatized by their forays into that relationship style.

 

Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex by Angela Chen

I understood for the first time that it is possible to lack the experience of sexual attraction without being repulsed by sex, just like it is possible to neither physically crave nor be disgusted by a food like crackers but still enjoy eating them as part of a cherished social ritual. Being repulsed by sex is a fairly obvious indication of the lack of sexual attraction, but a lack of sexual attraction can also be hidden by social performativity or wanting (and having) sex for emotional reasons—and because the different types of desire are bound together so tightly, it can be difficult to untangle the various strands.

I cannot say enough good things about this book. It is a vitally important contribution to the existing body of work on asexuality. In her clear, incisive prose, Angela Chen explains asexuality and its various facets and forms, discusses some of the biggest issues facing the asexual community today, and hypothesizes on useful lessons non-asexuals can learn from their ace peers.

Even though I’ve identified as being on the ace spectrum for a while now, there’s a lot in this book that I had never really thought about before, or at least hadn’t thought about with as much clarity as Ms. Chen brings to the table. It’s really a must-read for anyone who is interested in asexuality, from any angle.

 

Sex with Presidents: The Ins and Outs of Love and Lust in the White House by Eleanor Herman

There appears to be little difference between the thrills of seeking public power, with crowds of adoring fans, to seeking pubic power, with an adoring audience of one. The same compulsions that send a man hurtling toward the White House can also send him into a foolhardy tryst with a woman. High political office and dangerous sex are, in fact, all about hubris and power.

I just finished this the other day, and it was an absolute delight. Ms. Herman – who has previously written books on the sex lives of queens, kings, and Vatican bigwigs – has amassed a veritable treasure trove of absurd stories about salacious presidential misadventures. I know more about Lyndon Johnson’s penis and John F. Kennedy’s favorite sexual position now than I ever dreamed I’d learn.

Although she’s not too heavy-handed about it, Ms. Herman makes it clear throughout the book that systemic sexism – and often, men being outright cruel to women they claim to love – has played a huge role in presidential sex scandals. It’s hard to even grasp the number of powerful men who have cheated on their wives, fucked over their mistresses, abandoned their children, lied to the nation, etc. etc. etc. This is mainly a book about shitty men, but it’s also a book about strong women who deserved way better treatment than they ever got.

 

What books did you love this year?

Book Review: The End of Policing

Kate Sloan

Here’s one of the whitest things I could possibly say: I’ve never had a memorable encounter with a police officer.

Unlike countless people of color and especially Black folks, I have never been harassed, victimized, pursued, or discriminated against by a cop. My opinion on the police for most of my life has been neutral-to-positive, a fact that makes painfully clear the effectiveness of “copaganda”: media created to sugarcoat and valorize the role of police in our society. From SVU to Brooklyn Nine-Nine to The Silence of the Lambs, much of our media serves to numb white people’s understanding of the havoc cops wreak on Black folks’ lives every day, and have since the birth of their institution.

It was for this reason that I felt compelled to read The End of Policing. Friends of mine more entrenched in the social justice movement than I am have been shouting (and tweeting) anti-cop slogans for years now, and – seeing the violence regularly inflicted on marginalized people by police officers – I agreed with them that something needed to change. But I didn’t know much about the nuts and bolts of the issue: law enforcement’s rampant history of racist profiling and unwarranted violence, and the alternatives being proposed to replace this frustratingly venerated institution. My privilege had enabled me to go a long time without investigating this issue beyond a few cursory Google searches and news articles, but I wanted to fix that, because information is power and can effect change. So when I saw that Verso Books was offering a free ebook of The End of Policing for a while, as per the author’s wishes to get this information out there, I snapped it up and started reading.

It’s worth noting that the author, a sociology professor named Alex S. Vitale, is (so far as I can tell) white. Some books written by authors of color on similar issues include How to Abolish Prisons by Rachel Herzing and Justin Piché and Are Prisons Obsolete? by Angela Davis, both of which I’d like to explore next because they focus more on the imprisonment part of the unjust law enforcement system, while the book I’m reviewing today is all about cops: what they do, where they go, how they operate, and why they’re ill-suited for the roles we’ve slotted them into.

Vitale’s central argument is that the entire way our culture understands crime, and its causes, is wrong. There’s a hugely prevalent “bootstraps” theory of crime that paints it as the behavior of the depraved and morally flawed. Why would someone steal a loaf of bread, this theory goes, unless they were an ethical degenerate? What is there to do for them but throw them in the slammer, give them a shot at self-rehabilitation, and then toss them back out onto the streets when their sentence is done?

This perspective completely ignores the existence of structural inequality – which, newsflash, is a pretty big component of any capitalist society. When you make a law that says “stealing is wrong” (for example) but you put one group of people in a situation where they regularly have to choose between stealing and dying, while another group of people rarely or never even gets close to the maw of that terrifying decision, of course the first group is going to get in legal trouble constantly. And because our culture works how it does, that group – poor folks, and especially poor Black and Brown folks – will be treated as if their thievery was an independent decision based on a moral failing, rather than something they were pigeonholed into doing by the way the world treats them.

I’d heard it said many times in social justice circles that the police’s purpose and function is essentially to keep Black people down, and I always thought that was a claim about the police’s current atrocities rather than an indictment of the institution’s entire foundation and original purpose. But Vitale’s book set me straight on this issue. Police – which haven’t existed in their current form for as long as you might think – were always assembled and deployed with the mission of protecting people who had money, power, and privilege. They would chase down slaves who escaped, for example, and squash workers’ rights movements on behalf of the upper-class whites who didn’t want to have to give their poor employees better working conditions or higher pay. Police, both historically and presently, put a higher premium on protecting white people’s “property” and “wealth” (which, let’s not forget, was stolen from Indigenous folks and built by BIPOC’s slave labor) than on protecting Black people’s lives.

Seeing as their entire institution was literally created for this purpose, it’s no surprise at all that they continue to be one of the most racist forces in a world some people still misguidedly insist is “post-racial.” This is especially true since, as Vitale explains, police are trained (whether explicitly or implicitly) to view perpetrators of crime as their enemy in a war of sorts, so they come to view themselves as heroes when in fact they are usually targeting society’s most vulnerable at the behest of society’s most powerful.

This main idea – that the solution to crime isn’t stricter law enforcement, but instead, the end of structural inequality – echoes through every chapter of Vitale’s book. He looks at topics like sex work, border violations, homelessness, drug use, and street gangs, and systematically explains why police are not a good or even passable solution to most problems. Structural inequality, the likes of which we see between white folks and people of color in North America and elsewhere, leads to economic precarity and, in many cases, mental illness and addiction issues for those who get the short end of the stick. These factors are the roots of almost all the crime police crack down on, and yet the crimes themselves are treated as isolated incidents, related to nothing structural except the supposed moral decrepitude of the “criminal” class. Why are we surprised that we built a dam and now the water is overflowing?

Each chapter of Vitale’s book gives an overview of the area of policing it covers, including numerous horrifying statistics and stories, and then offers some alternatives to the police-based status quo. You’ve probably seen people talking about some of these alternatives on social media a lot lately. Because the law enforcement institution is deeply discriminatory and was built to be that way, reforms aimed at getting the police to behave better will never work. It’s like training a bloodthirsty animal not to eat meat: the best you can hope for is that they’ll successfully suppress their natural desires for a while, not that those desires will actually change. For this reason, police abolitionists – a group that, wonderfully, seems to be growing by the day now – want, instead, for the police to be defunded and for those funds to be reallocated to services and causes that will actually reduce crime, like affordable housing, mental health counselling, addiction treatment, employment programs, social work, and sex work decriminalization. The law enforcement system thinks the best way to reduce crime is to make life harder for those in vulnerable populations; Vitale’s perspective, and that of other police abolitionists, is that making life a great deal easier for those people is the true ticket to crime reduction and a more harmonious society.

One thing that astonished me to learn from this book is that these alternatives are usually much cheaper to run than the current law enforcement system. Vitale produces stats that back this up for a staggering number of issues. It turns out, for example, that it costs the state dramatically less to just give a homeless person a safe and stable place to live for free than it would to continually cycle them through jails and courts for the “crime” of sleeping in a park or urinating on the street. (Where else are they supposed to sleep and pee, when you’ve banned them from so many safer locations?) It would also reportedly be cheaper to supply addicts with treatment and harm-reduction services than it is to send them to drug courts or prison. The tired Republican argument of “Where will the money come from?!?” seems pretty weak when you realize that police budgets are often the highest line item in any city budget and can be billions per year. Do you actually care about “the taxpayers,” or do you just hate the marginalized people you see as intractable criminals?

While this post is ostensibly a review of The End of Policing – which I loved, and would heartily recommend – mostly I wanted to use my platform here to tell you what you can do if you believe enough is enough and the police should be defunded. You can call or write to your local political leaders to demand they take action on this issue. You can donate to, and signal-boost the work of, abolitionist activists and organizations like Critical Resistance. You can loudly question the dogmatic beliefs of your police-abiding friends and family, perhaps backed up by stats and facts you read in this book. You can educate yourself more and more on this issue until you flush the harmful “copaganda” out of your psychological system. I’ve been doing all of these things after a lifetime of relative ignorance on this issue, and I invite you to join me – because contrary to popular belief, if we truly want a safer world, we need to get rid of cops and replace them with actual solutions to the problems we face.