Abstract
Imagine being invited to a dinner party with 16 fantastically interesting guests who are all there to offer provocative inquiries that challenge dominant scripts about sexual ethics. In Unsafe Words, the contributors do just that by sharing their personal stories, artwork, activism efforts, and scholarship to guide the reader through a maze of complexities surrounding power and control as well as consent and harm. With chapters spanning topics ranging from Black Femmedom experiences (Velvet) to lesbian relationships in Mexico City (Gonzáles-López and Garrido) to “gaysian” sexual ethics (McMaster) that bring to light issues that affect queer people’s lives, this Q+ Public book series contribution follows the OUT/LOOK bridge between academic inquiry and the broader LGBTQ+ community. The reader is easily captivated by a dizzying array of thought-provoking chapters, but the main takeaway from this book is that queer people, which the editors broadly define as people who participate in any variety of non-heteronormative sexual relations, have uniquely multifaceted experiences that do not fold in neatly to the white-washed and heterosexualized #MeToo Era that has spiraled out widely from the movement founded by African American activist Tarana Burke in 2006. By exposing deep taboos, each contributor works to articulate the nuances between the sexual pleasures and harms that queer people endure.
A broad theme throughout this collection is centered around the idea that “consent is not one size fits all” (p. 22), as articulated by Angela Jones. Highlighting power arrangements and class differences (Jones; Trumball; Velvet; Ward) and lack of clarity about desire (Cheves; Gonzáles-López and Garrido; Hoppe; King; Ward), the reader learns how different consent patterns exist for different people and that consent is customizable, as conveyed by Alexander Cheves. Bringing in examples from bathhouses (Hoppe; Buchanan) and nightclubs (Buggs), the contributors paint vivid scenes of pleasure, harm, and confusion. The idea of “enthusiastic consent” does not work well here (or really anywhere) because there are many sexual contexts wherein blurting out “yes!” would be inappropriate. Instead, as Blu Buchanan argues, considering consent as both collective and relational, as opposed to as an arrangement between individuals as it is usually described, is much more useful. Together, these contributors demonstrate how dismantling existing traditional consent definitions is a hallmark to “queering consent.”
Adding further nuance, the recognition that consent is inextricably linked to heteropatriarchy emerges, especially in Jane Ward’s contribution and in Gloria Gonzáles-López and Anahi Garrido’s discussion. These scholars note that women’s desire is often disregarded and mangled so much that consent can become bastardized. For example, Gonzáles-López and Garrido note that consent can be moment-to-moment when linked to desire, yet acknowledgment of desire, which ideally drives consent, is especially complicated for lesbians in a heteropatriarchal society. The overall resonant message is well described by James McMaster: straight sexual ethics do not fit in queer people’s lives.
The second large theme of this collection offers suggestions for solutions. For V. Jo Hsu and Dominique Morgan, this includes changes to the carceral state. For example, Hsu highlights how the criminal justice/prison system disproportionately harms people of color and LGBTQ+ people. In addition, drawing attention to the notion of the “believable victim” (read: white privileged women), Hsu demonstrates how sexual violence victims who are LGBTQ+ people of color are systematically criminalized. Solutions to these problems are offered and include developing programs for prisoners, cultivating support networks upon release to escape cycles of imprisonment, and becoming vocal advocates for incarcerated survivors.
Overall, a resounding theme of “we need to do better” is echoed throughout the book. This is especially poignant because, as described by Buggs, when queer people are harmed by queer people, they can feel hesitant to come forward in fear of causing further problems for already marginalized queer people. To move past these difficulties, the contributing scholars note that we need to learn how to be more comfortable talking about sex, consent, and harm to best create the conditions for more pleasurable and ethical sex. As Jones describes, the ideal form of sexual communication is honest, clear in directive, assertive, and true to oneself.
Together, the contributors of this text challenge the reader to think more deeply and critically about consent and trouble its current landscape through highlighting the complexities in queer people’s sexual lives. After all, the contributors argue, queers are pioneers in sexual pleasure and experts in sexual nuance. In the end, Buggs and Hoppe surmise that the only way to truly end sexual violence is to dismantle the structural systems that enable it: heteropatriarchy, homonegativity, transmisogyny, and white supremacy. Thus, this book is an excellent resource for scholars across the social sciences including sociology, sexualities, LGBTQ+ studies, women’s and gender studies, and queer studies. Beyond academia, this book occupies an important space in activism, especially as it engages with sex work, public sex, sexual health, and consent.
