Minding the (Orgasm) Gap

February 16, 2022
Posted by Jay Livingston

“Climax as Work.” The title of this Gender and Society article by Nicole Andrejek, Tina Fetner, and Melanie Heath is almost like the sign that says “SEX” in large letters, and then “Now that we’ve got your attention . . . .”

Yes, the article is about sex. But it uses and illustrates the more general perspective of  the social construction of reality. We rarely think that we are actively working to maintain a particular reality, a more or less arbitrary way of looking at the world. But  each time we make use of those taken-for-granted  truths, we are reinforcing that reality. Or as we used to say back in the sixties, if you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem.

The problem at issue is the “orgasm gap.” Among the men in the Andrejek/Fetner/Heath  survey, 86% said they had had an orgasm in their most recent sexual encounter; for the women the proportion was only 62%. That’s consistent with the results of most other studies on the topic. The authors start from this finding and move to two related points, one about the “work” in the title, the other about “labor,” or more specifically “gender labor.”

“Work” is a term that interviewees, both the men and the women, used in talking about women’s orgasm. While they saw the man’s orgasm as a matter of more or less doing what comes naturally, the woman’s orgasm took work. As one man put it, “It’s definitely easier for the male, that’s for sure. I think [for the] female, it takes more work and certain things have to be done, where a male is good for anything.” Similarly, a woman said that she enjoys, “if the man is behind me and he is able to pleasure me with his hands [but it takes] a lot more to work. It takes a lot more for me to get to that point where I’m going have an orgasm.”

It’s all about the clitoris. Attention must be paid. Ignore it, and the woman will be far less likely to come. There’s no mystery about it. Yet here we are, nearly a half-century after The Hite Report, a quarter-century after “Sex and the City,” and still a substantial segment of the population hasn’t gotten the message.

Our participants craft narratives that define regular sex as only penile–vaginal intercourse and sexual behaviors that prioritize clitoral stimulation, such as oral sex, vibrators, or manual stimulation, as “alternative” sexual practices. These alternative sexual practices to regular sex are depicted as more time-consuming labor and extra work for couples.

To avoid realizing the importance of the clitoris, or in the face of that realization to find reasons for not acting on that knowledge — that takes some mental effort. It is this effort that the authors, borrowing a term coined by Jane Ward, see as an example of “gender labor.” Of course the labor is mostly unconscious. We rarely think of ourselves, in bed or out, as laboring to, as A/F/H put it, “create a sex life that conforms to dominant narratives of ‘normal’ sexuality.” Even when we know that the sex could be better, especially for the woman, we don’t think of our explanations as reinforcing patriarchal hegemonic masculinity. We are just calling on “commonsense understandings of what constitutes sexual pleasure.”

I came away with the impression that the authors are calling for a revolution in sexual consciousness. The orgasm gap is not going away all by itself. Nor is it likely to disappear one clitoris at a time. “Our findings demonstrate the need to challenge the shared heteronormative meanings of what counts as sex.” We are left wondering about just how new meanings and ideas can diffuse through a population, especially when those meanings and ideas concern something that is not a topic of frequent, wide, or even audible discussion.

Valentines and Sentiment — Particularism vs. Universalism

February 14, 2022
Posted by Jay Livingston

For Valentine’s day when I was in kindergarten, we had to bring a Valentine’s card for every other kid in the class. Many years later, in my intro classes, I often used this as an example of universalism and particularism. We usually think of love as particularistic, something that depends on the particular people involved. We treat the other person according to the special aspects of the person and the relationship, not according to some universal rules that apply equally to everyone. But in Miss Carmen’s kindergarten, everyone said Be My Valentine to everyone else.

Maybe the same rule applied in first and second grade or beyond. I can’t remember. But at some point, we learn that a Valentine’s card and the sentiment it represents is for “that special someone,”

With friendships and friendliness however, we Americans are still kindergartners. Or at least that’s how non-Americans see it. When they come to the US they are often pleasantly surprised at how friendly and welcoming Americans are. Perfect strangers treating you so warmly. But after a while they are frustrated, for what passes as a friendship here seems superficial and temporary, so unlike friendships from their native countries. As a student from France told anthropologist Cathy Small,

Sure I have friends. It’s so easy to meet people here, to make friends. Well, not really friends. That’s the thing. Friendship is very surface-defined here. It is easy to get to know people, but the friendship is superficial. We wouldn’t even call it a friendship. In France, when you’re someone’s friend, you’re their friend for life

The other way I had of explaining particularism and universalism hinged on the idea of what something is worth. Usually, we measure that in the universalistic terms of money. A dollar is a dollar no matter whose wallet it’s in.  But I would glance around the room looking for a girl wearing a ring or necklace, one that looked special. An engagement ring was the ideal. “Where’d you get that?” I would ask, and often the answer was the kind I was looking for. “My boyfriend gave it to me,” or “It was my grandmother’s.”

We would come to some assessment of what its dollar value might be, and I would then ask if she would sell me the ring for double that. The answer was always No. I would then ask others in the class, “If you had bought this ring for $200 and I now offered you $400, would you take it.” Yes, of course. You could go back the store, buy one just like it, and pocket the extra $200. But to the girl wearing that ring, its value is particularistic, based on the particular people involved.

I would sometimes bring in the example from “Breakfast at Tiffany’s” — the ring from a box of Crackerjacks, worthless to everyone except the two lovers — even though I knew that most students would not be familiar with it.* But it’s such a good example.


I was reminded of this by a segment of the Valentine’s episode of the Planet Money podcast. One of their economics reporters, Mary Childs said that she would give a Valentine to her favorite website, where entire estates are auctioned. She loves it because it is a perfect example of “price discovery” — finding out how much money something is worth. She also seems pleased that discovering the price has the sobering effect of deflating the particularistic value.

It turns out, a lot of this stuff is basically worthless. There’ll be a lot of lots that go for like two dollars or five dollars. . . . .When we’re alive we imbue all our possessions with all this importance and all of this meaning. . . But in the end it turns out that all this stuff — your precious stuff — is just stuff.

As Oscar Wilde said, “What is an economist? A man who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.” (OK, he didn’t say “economist”; he said “cynic.” But the difference may be hard to perceive here just as it is with the economic view of the “deadweight loss” of Christmas presents )

HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY

To Everyone

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* Not all students were unfamiliar with it. One semester, when I referred to “the movie based on the Truman Capote short story,” I heard a girl off to my right mutter sotto voce, “novella.”

Did They Really Say That in 1882?

February 12, 2022
Posted by Jay Livingston

Language anachronisms in “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” and “Mad Men” often came through loud and clear, at least to my ears. The shows were set in 1960, a time when I was alive — speaking and listening. (See earlier posts here and here ) “The Gilded Age” on HBO is set in 1882, before my time. Still, some of the language in this week’s episode, “Face the Music,” sounded more recent. Julian Fellowes, who created the show and did much of the writing, came in for some criticism (here, for example) for the language anachronisms in his “Downton Abbey.” I can just see him chuckling now as he waves the title “Face the Music” to lure in the language police and then swats them back by having Mr. Russell say, “To employ a modern phrase, I'm afraid you must face the music.’”

OK, “face the music” was not a phrase before its time. But in 1882 it wasn’t exactly modern either. My own memory does not extend back to 1882. That’s why we (and that includes Mr. Fellowes) have the Oxford English Dictionary, and according to the OED, this “modern phrase” has one example from a newspaper fifty years before the Gilded Age and another from 1850: “There should be no skulking or dodging...every man should ‘face the music’.”

If you’re not watching the show, know that Mr. Russell is the nouveau-riche businessman. His adversaries who must face the music are the establishment wealthy. They have connived to ruin him financially, but Russell outwits them, using his own wealth to put them on the verge of financial ruin. He will have his revenge. “I didn't see this coming. I admit it. I thought you were honorable men. Not too honorable to miss the chance of a fat buck, of course, but not greedy, dirty thieves.”

He adds, “I thought I was the one who might throw a curveball.”

(Click on an image for a larger view.)

Curveball? By 1882, pitchers had been throwing curveballs for a decade. But they were literal curveballs. Metaphorical curveballs didn’t come into play for another half-century.

In an earlier scene, Russell’s daughter uses the phrase “the thing is.”

This too sounded modern to my ears, even if she did not use the double “is” that many people today  add, as in “The thing is is that it’s very recent.”  I may have been wrong. The OED finds Matthew Arnold using it 1873. “The question [of a state church]..is..so absolutely unimportant! The thing is, to recast religion.” I’m not sure that this is exactly the way we use it. The first clear example of that in the OED is from John Galsworthy in 1915. “Look here, old man, the thing is, of course, to see it in proportion.”

Finally, there was “identify.” Miss Scott has submitted her short stories to a newspaper. They are, the editor tells her, “beautifully constructed and executed.” The problem is that Miss Scott is Black and so is the main character in the story under consideration. The editor tells her that some adjustments will be necessary.

“The little colored girl would need to be changed to a poor white child.”

Why, she asks.  

“Our readers will not identify with a colored girl's story of redemption.”

I was mostly wrong about this one. Identify in this sense goes back at least to the early 1700s. But until the mid-20th century there was always a pronoun like himself or onesself  between identify and with. What the editor should have said is “Our readers will not identify themselves with a colored girl’s story.” In 1882, the reflexive pronoun was still required. Today, it has been absorbed into the word identify.

Trends in the Word Market

February 10, 2022
Posted by Jay Livingston

Kieran Healy tweeted recently about his 2017 paper “Fuck Nuance.”

(Click on an image for a larger view.)

I wondered again, as I wondered when I heard Kieran present this paper at the ASA meetings,* is nuance itself a recent thing, or is it just that the word has become fashionable? The Nexis-Uni database of news finds only seven instances of the word before 1975, the first coming in 1969. Before then, there was no nuance to fuck.

The word seems to have been put into play by theater critics. But surely there must have been performances in earlier decades that critics of the 70s and beyond would have called “nuanced.” Praise for scholarly writings as nuanced happens a decade or so later. But how might an earlier take on those same performances or writings have phrased it?

I don’t know.

Then there’s “sustainable.” How I wish I had bought stock in Sustainable in 1980. It would have been like buying Bitcoin in 2010. But in this case, I have a good idea of the word sustainable replaced: viable.

I associate the word with the Kennedy administration. It seemed that government higher-ups were always talking about “viable options.” Today we would call them “sustainable options.” For example, today’s Inside Higher Ed (here) quotes someone saying of a colleague, “the demands of both his role here and his elected position are not sustainable.” He means that the colleague can’t fulfill the demands of both roles. Or to put it in the language of 1965, continuing in both roles is not a viable option.

Perhaps “nuance” no longer be viable. It will see the fading of its cachet, and I will look back and wonder why I didn’t sell my Nuance shares as soon as I heard Kieran present that paper.

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* The title was the first slide in Kieran’s presentation, and it remained on the screen as Kieran took care of technical matters at the podium. Then he clicked to the second slide, which, if memory serves, was “No, seriously. Fuck it.”

Consider the Social Class of the Lobster

January 26, 2022
Posted by Jay Livingston

“Food isn’t about nutrition,” wrote Robin Hanson some years ago (here). But it’s also not about taste, or at least not all about taste. Which foods we prize and which we despise also depends on what the food says about the people who consume it, especially their social status.

In the first episode of “The Gilded Age,” the Russells decide to throw an elegant dinner party. They are newly rich, very rich, and new to the neighborhood, Fifth Avenue at 61st St., where they have built a mansion. Mrs. Russell thinks that the dinner, along with generous donations to old-money charities, will bring the Russells entree into “society.”

She is wrong. Old money snubs her. The Russells prepare for 200 guests. Nobody comes.

Like an officer reviewing the troops, she walks past the tables laden with elegant foods.

“What will you do with it all?” asks her husband.
“Church. Get the kitchen staff to box it up and send a message in the morning to the Charity Organization Society. Ask them to collect it.”
“I don’t know what the poor of New York will make of lobster salad.”

He’s wrong. The poor would remember the times not so long ago when lobster was a food for common people, not a delicacy for the elite.

Lobster, as David Foster Wallace mentions in passing in his famous essay, was not always a delicacy. In the early days of the Massachusetts Bay Colony, lobster was trash food. It was fed to prisoners. Two hundred fifty years later, the social status of lobster hadn’t improved. In the 1870s, indentured servants sued, successfully, so that their masters could feed them lobster no more than three times a week. [From a blogpost of two years ago, here.]

“The Gilded Age” begins in 1882, which is possibly the inflection point in the lobster trajectory from prole trash to pricey treat. The sites I’ve looked at say imprecisely that the change started “in the 1880s,” so it could have been any time in that decade. I would have loved it if the show had used this history to a culinary dimension to the conflict. The Russells, with their antennae tuned to the latest in fashions, have their groaning board include the new hot item — lobster. Meanwhile in the mansion across the street, old-money Agnes Van Rhijn (Christine Baranski) learns of this and comments to Ada (Cynthia Nixon), “And did you hear? Lobster. Indeed. Does she really expect that anyone in society would tolerate being served lobster?”

Being the Ricardos — Who’s Gaslighting Who?

January 17, 2022
Posted by Jay Livingston

The most frequently viewed post on this blog by far is the original one about language anachronisms on “The  Marvelous Mrs. Maisel” (here). Google “Maisel anachronism,” and this blog will be near the top of the list.  “Mad Men” too sometimes dotted the1950s landscape with twentieth-century language. (Blog posts are here and here).

This month, television once again took us back to the 1950s with “Being the Ricardos,” and once again the script has language that sounds much too new. We’re not talking about TV fluff where historical precision hardly matters — sitcoms like “The Godldbergs,” set in the 1980s but with a writers’ room stocked with writers who in that decade were barely toddling. But “Being the Ricardos,” written and directed by Aaorn Sorkin, asks to be taken seriously, and Sorkin has a great ear for dialogue.

Yet he gives us this moment in the writers’ room when Madelyn, one of the writers, has suggested a story line that involves Ricky cheating on his taxes. Desi, who is honest about his own taxes, says that his TV character too would never cheat on his taxes. Another writer, Bob, thinks the cheating plot element would work. “It’s very relatable. Everyone does.”

In 1955, things were not “relatable.”  

A few seconds later, Sorkin’s script has this:

Her process? People did not have processes in the 1950s. They just did things the way they did them. They weren’t relatable either. Here are the graphs from Google nGrams, which tallies the frequency of words in books. Both these terms come into wide use only well after the 1950s. True, it takes time for a trendy word to go from everyday talk to a published book, but the lag time is not forty years.

Then there’s gaslighting. Gas as a way of lighting streets and rooms came in around 1800, and that was the gaslight referred to in the 1944 movie, which was set in the late 19th century. Gaslight was a noun. The current usage — as a verb meaning to try to make someone doubt their own true perceptions — didn’t appear until the 21st century.

In “Being the Ricardos,” although Desi does not cheat on his taxes, he may be doing another kind of cheating. Lucy suspects, Desi denies and suggests that she is unreasonably suspicious, that the problem is in her mind.

In the 1950s, people talked about lying and cheating, Men might suggest say their wives were imagining things, might even suggest that they see a psychiatrist, and wives might see all that as a baseless ploy. But nobody called it gaslighting.

Is Sorkin trying to get us to think that 65 years ago people talked about their process and whether something was relatable? Is Sorkin gaslighting us?

An American, Still Very American, in Paris

January 8, 2022
Posted by Jay Livingston

“Emily in Paris” is really about the clothes. I feel a bit irrelevant offering sociological commentary.( For snark regarding the clothes in Season One, see Buzzfeed.)

In Season One, Emily was more or less America personified, and the show’s creators, presumably with American audiences in mind, were all but waving the Stars and Stripes and shouting, “We’re Number One.” Emily, with no knowledge of French culture and customs and unable to speak a word of French, nevertheless manages to outperform the stodgy French on their home field. Emily’s pluck, optimism, and openness, and her new Instagrammatic approaches to marketing triumph over the measured, traditional French way of doing things. (Earlier blog post on Emily are here and here.)

Having established the superiority of American culture, the show can move on in Season Two to matters of the heart, which are more complicated, for while Emily could solve marketing problems with snap of her smartphone, the conflicts of romance are mostly internal. The basic problem is that Emily, in one passionate encounter, has fallen for Gabriel and he for her. But he already has a girlfriend, Camille, whose family company is a client of the marketing firm Emily works for.

In European movies, women in love follow their whims, often without regard for common sense and without planning out the consequences, especially the consequences for others. Men can only try to understand. The classic example is “Jules and Jim,” where a woman’s capriciousness brings the men who love her heartbreak and even death.

Emily tries to be more practical. If her feelings for Gabriel cause difficulties for him and for Camille, she will try to suppress those feelings. She agrees to  a formal agreement with Camille that since Gabriel is the problem, they both agree not to be romantically involved with him. Camille of course has no intention of honoring that pact. It’s hard to imagine a woman in a French movie imposing a bureaucratic solution to restrain feelings of love. But to the American Emily, it seems like a practical, workable solution.

The show is on Emily’s side her. Camille is selfish and scheming, petty and vindictive. She insistst that a business meeting be conducted in French, leaving Emily unable to understand what’s going on. “Emily in Paris” wants us to see her as nasty for this, even though French is the native language of everyone at the table save Emily. Camille, who has just discovered that Emily had sex with her boyfriend, wants only that she not be seduce him away, but in “Emily in Paris” she is the bad guy.

The show makes a deliberate point of the inability of Americans to think accurately about affairs of the heart. After the meeting, Emily’s colleague Luc takes her to film, “ a classic,” he tells her. It’s “Jules and Jim” (the title of this episode is “Jules and Em”). As they talk briefly about the film afterwards, Emily says, ‘If Catherine and Jim had only waited for each other’s letters to arrive before sending another one, there would have been less confusion, and they all would have ended up together.” And she’s right. If “Jules and Jim” had been an American film, it would have had a pragmatic, understandable, and happy ending.

Simon and Garfunkle and McLuhan

November 22, 2021
Posted by Jay Livingston

The term “global village” was coined by Marshall McLuhan in 1962 in his book The Gutenberg Galaxy.

But certainly the electro-magnetic discoveries have recreated the simultaneous “field” in all human affairs so that the human family now exists under conditions of a “global village.” We live in a single constricted space resonant with tribal drums. So that the concern with the “primitive” today is as banal as nineteenth-century concern with “progress,” and as irrelevant to our problems.

McLuhan was prescient. He saw that the electronic media would dissolve the distinction between primitive and modern. In 1962, even the term “electronic media” was not much in circulation (McLuhan uses electro-magnetic). “Globalization” had not yet entered the general conversation, and the Internet and World Wide Web were decades away.

(Frequency of globalization in books. Google n-Grams.)

I doubt that anyone still reads The Gutenberg Galaxy these days, but Maurice Stein assigned it, along with McLuhan’s Understanding Media (1964) to my Sociology of Literature class in 1965. That was also the year that Simon and Garfunkle’s “Sound of Silence” became a huge hit.

These seemingly diverse facts came together for me this morning as I was listening to a promo for a new audiobook, Miracle and Wonder: Conversations with Paul Simon.

jl2109 · Global Village

(No transcript. The idea is entirely in the music.)