A few words on harlotry, the marriage industrial complex and Steven Crowder

It has come to my attention recently that some guy named Steven Crowder got married – and, for some reason, used that as a chance to launch into a massive diatribe about sluts and harlots and what have you. It was picked up my Jezebel and much hilarity involving gifs ensued.

My initial reaction to Crowder’s piece is also best summed up with a gif:

(Sent to me by a friend who sends me great gifs – and lotsa random porn to freak me out while I’m working. I salute you, brother.)

Then I read this discussion of Crowder’s um, joyful missive from the Ever After – as well as checked out Crowder’s own Twitter – and it got me thinking. About Crowder, whom I still wish all of the happiness in the world (although, if you ask me, launching into a mocking tirade about other people’s sex lives is a funny way of showing that you’re in the throes of wedded bliss), but also about our culture’s extreme Marriage Mythology.

Truth is, I know a fair amount of people who have chosen to wait to have sex. And a fair amount of people who were virgins on their wedding night. It’s just Their Way and not something to comment on beyond that, for me. That’s not really the issue here.

The issue is – the Marriage Mythology requires your wedding to be The Happiest Day of Your Life™. And if you read between the lines, happiness actually signals a kind of unreality. It can’t be a regular human experience, it has to be something Beyond That.

And there is an entire industry built around this supposition. This is why otherwise normal people will suddenly break down when confronted with the fact that their wedding invitations, the ones that were supposed to be eggshell white, actually turned out to be more like cream white. 

And abstinence is, in many ways, a kind of niche industry. You have people writing books about it. Or those who, like Crowder, write columns about it. You have people teaching abstinence education and massive abstinence campaigns with passionate-sounding slogans such as True Love Waits, slogans that are used on official jewelry and apparel and what have you.

Abstinence is industrialized the way that sex is also industrialized. Both of these narratives are packaged like a De Beers commercial. And both need each other – one is irrelevant without the other.

So beating your chest and celebrating your own decision to remain “pure” until marriage while simultaneously blasting the sluts and whores who haven’t followed your shining example is actually a pretty awesome career move. It’s a bit like coming out with an in-your-face commercial that people will talk about long after the Super Bowl is over. You’re stumping – but no one will notice unless you take a major swipe at the competition.

But let’s get real here – and talk about the actual human beings involved in making such a decision.

While I totally understand that people in the wedding (and the abstinence!) industries need to eat, ya’ll, I don’t think that using a marriage ceremony as a chance to impress other people is healthy for your relationship. I like the notion of a public celebration as dedicated to commitment and love – and for certain, there are different ways to express that. Some are more expensive than others. Sometimes, the bride is extremely lucky to take advantage of a great aunt’s vintage jewelry and post-Christmas sales events (*cough*). Some people cannot imagine a wedding ceremony without the participation of big fucking elephants – and to them I say right on.

But people like Steven Crowder here go on to frame their wedding and their wedding night as one big “HAHA FUCK YOU” to the folks who taunted him about being abstinent and I… am a little disturbed by that, I guess? Imagine if I met and married a football player – and then wrote a gloating column addressed to all of the jocks who didn’t see fit to invite me to any of our high school dances. Take THAT, fellas!

Yep, it would make me seem like a totally cool and well-adjusted human being. And one who is certainly mature enough to embark on what is supposed to be a lifelong commitment.

Yep.

P.S. What’s the deal with Crowder’s weirdly competitive insistence that the people his wife and he encountered during breakfast must have had some sort of shitty wedding – and are clearly just pathetic shits in general? Like, “MWAHAHAHA, DUDE DIDN’T COME DOWN FOR BREAKFAST, BET HE WAS A DRUNKEN ASSHOLE AT HIS OWN RECEPTION.” Yeah, ’cause that’s totally what I would assume as well – as opposed to giggling inappropriately about what a great wedding night those two probably had.

Money quote from Russian sociologist Olga Kryshtanovskaya

“We can’t live according to the principle that ‘money decides everything.’ We tried. We are at a dead end now. We need lofty ideals.” From a new interview just published by Novaya Gazeta.

In the interview, Kryshtanovskaya warns about a possible revolution – should enough members of the elite and enough poor people join Russia’s protest movement, which is currently spearheaded by the middle class.

Kryshtanovskaya is one of those people who won’t ignore hundreds of years of Russia’s history for the sake of a catchy turn of phrase. She’s right about the fact that Putin has, in fact, been slowly leading Russia down the path to a more functioning democracy – but, like any Russian leader, he’s stuck playing by the old rules of the game. The difficulty of Putin’s position has to do with the fact that he must either reassure the elites or reassure the general public. He can’t do both.

The overall lack of lofty ideals is what’s so worrying. Russia needs lofty ideals. “Whoever captures the moral high ground will win,” Kryshtanovskaya says of possible future turmoil. I think she’s most likely 100% correct here.

And can I just take a moment to point out that I adore Kryshtanovskaya? A former “United Russia” member (that’s the ruling party around here, in case you’re wondering), a kind of political comedienne, a respected expert in her field, looks great in white and oversize glasses… My kind of woman, basically.

Francisco Goldman’s “Say Her Name”

I want to praise this book and I don’t know how to go about it. All of the Real, Professional Reviews™ and such have been written. What can I say? “I’m sorry that your lost your young, beautiful, talented wife. But hey – you got a great memoir out of it!”

Some people have argued that the structure of the book leaves something to be desired. It’s too novel-like to be a proper memoir! It’s too memoir-like to be a proper novel! But “Say Her Name” is structured how the grieving process is structured. It has its raw stretches. It has its cool, composed, unblinking stretches. It jumps back and forth like the human mind does when it’s flailing for some sort of anchor. Obviously, it’s a one-sided account – but what’s the point of even pointing that out? It’s the story of a relationship, and one half of that relationship has died.

The story is carved out of a great, solid darkness. It’s dominated by the absence of light, the absence of Aura Estrada, a person who was the author’s source of light. It’s the only book so far that I’ve read while standing up in the Moscow metro during rush hour (yes, I still don’t have an eBook reader – I’m a dinosaur, I’m at peace with this) – backpack nearly trampled underfoot, oblivious to the crush and sway of people, trying not to cry.

At one point, Goldman eviscerates himself for how happy he looks in his wedding pictures. “There was something unguarded, out of control, undignified in my comportment, going among the guests like a romping dog, showing everybody my enormous grin.” Aura was to die in a tragic accident on a Mexican beach less than two years later.

A couple of those wedding pictures are online. Goldman’s grin is indeed enormous. Aura Estrada is stunning. I think this sick sad world is better off for it. Even though she died.

Happiness is in short supply on this planet. Particularly the kind of happiness that is occasionally possible between two people who are in love. And based on the memoir, based on the photographs, I’m positive that most people simply never get to have what Francisco and Aura had. It’s just not possible for them.

I love my husband and my husband loves me back. We’re raising a beautiful son together. But both my husband and I have endured years of damage. So much of our time together revolves around trying to get past that damage that we often have little time for actual love.

I’ve realized recently that what I need to do is to finally just go through with mourning the person I could have been – just so that I can finally let her go. I have struggled with the idea that I could have been better – kinder, gentler, more intelligent, more confident, more loving, more lovable – if only I hadn’t gone through so much hell when I was younger. Now I am learning to accept that yes, there could have been a better version of me out there. She didn’t happen. But I happened and maybe, in the end, that’s alright.

I obviously identified with the terrible sadness of “Say Her Name” – but I also saw a lot of happiness, carefully preserved, like a memento being pressed into your hand.

There’s nothing shameful about happiness – though obviously, you can’t look back on happy times with the same lens after your partner’s life was tragically cut short. In that sense, “Say Her Name” is so emotionally honest, that you almost cannot handle it. But afterward, all you want to do is touch Goldman on the shoulder and say, “Go easy on yourself, soldier. If you can.”

There can never be enough happiness. There can never be enough love. At a certain magnitude, loss never goes away. But as a person who is still learning to love, I thought that “Say Her Name” is a good reminder to keep trying. Because life is short – and one day, all of us run out of chances.