To be objectified


The man on the train has creamy skin and the darkest eyes. The boy on the bike the other day was loose-limbed with easy grace, wet hair and clothes thrown on. Dark hair and brown arms from the sun. He looked at me looking at him.

There isn’t much space in public life to talk about the legitimacy of desire, about it’s full spectrum, about the desire to sometimes objectify others in a way that isn’t harmful and the occasional desire to feel objectified yourself.

Feminism has pointed to the way sex has publically become about constant objectifying, about pornography instead of a broadly defined exploration of the erotic, about the dull throb of narrow desire as represented by Nuts, the page3beautyfromOxfordcupsize34DDlookshecantalktoo”ithinklibconshouldbringourbraveboyshome.”

People want to have conversations about desire: women do and men do. The pleasure in it, what it can add to us. Desire without exploitation, without boredom, and without blame.


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