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Re-Making Love: The Feminization of Sex
This provocative book reveals how the real sexual revolution was initiated by women -- not men -- and how it transformed both our behavior and our understanding of what sex means in our lives.
228 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1986
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667 people want to read
About the author
Barbara Ehrenreich
96 books2,011 followersBarbara Ehrenreich was an American author and political activist. During the 1980s and early 1990s, she was a prominent figure in the Democratic Socialists of America. She was a widely read and award-winning columnist and essayist and the author of 21 books. Ehrenreich was best known for her 2001 book Nickel and Dimed: On (Not) Getting By in America, a memoir of her three-month experiment surviving on a series of minimum-wage jobs. She was a recipient of a Lannan Literary Award and the Erasmus Prize.
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Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews
May 6, 2012
A great read, though dated with 25 years of subsequent radical sexual change (read: the rise of misogynist internet porn and the hyper-sexualization of women and girls). I loved the historical reading of the (American) sexual revolution from a woman-centered point of view, but I found myself hungry for an update form the authors that takes into account the stunning (and largely, stunningly negative) changes of recent years.
November 29, 2015
Written at height of AIDs scare in defense of the sexual revolution, this study draws a perfectly neat arc from its inception to reception, a trajectory that is telling if not teleological in the conclusions it draws about its legacy. Unfortunately, the authors seem to fall into the same white-washed, heterosexist trap that made the radical feminist stance on sex particularly repellant to Third Wavers. Particularly in the section on the reclamation of female sexual pleasure, this is mostly discussed in the context of monogamous, heterosexual marriage. The authors pay lip-service to the increased "awareness" of gay and lesbian sexual practices that infiltrated the new literature of sex manuals in the 1970s and here and there, they note that the sexual revolution expanded erotic possibility to all women "gay or straight." Frustratingly, though, they have almost nothing to say about where lesbians or the concurrent gay rights movement fits into the sexual revolution. It is clear that by defining the sexual revolution as a "women's" revolution the authors mean white, heterosexual, middle-class women. In the final chapter, they even proclaim that women must claim their ownership of the sexual revolution, lest it becomes the victory of "members of sexual 'minority groups'" as opposed to "the female majority." (205) As if the interests of feminists are somehow distinct from, even threatened by, the accomplishments of the gay liberation movement! If this reflects the biases of the conservative 1980s they so vehemently attack, it does so in so far as they characteristically marginalize other voices to protect the place of their particular brand of feminism in the mainstream.
Nevertheless, this book contains many telling insights into how science operated as a mechanism of power and moral enforcement throughout the twentieth century. Despite the monopolistic grasp of medicine and psychoanalysis on sex for most of the century, it proved unable to contain women's changing experience of sex and increasing dissatisfaction with monogamous heterosexuality in the post-war period. We owe the expansion of women's sexual freedom not to technological innovations like the birth control pill or the sexological studies of Kinsey and Masters and Johnson who "rediscovered" the clitoris, but to social forces that truly made the sexual revolution a women's movement. Science in both cases was merely a supplement to social change, giving validity to an altogether new view of sex. If science collapsed clitoral orgasm into the end goal of sex, feminists opened it up again as a new symbol of sexual autonomy. The new stress on reciprocal pleasure provoked a number of long-lasting social effects. A new industry of sex that brought the market for women's sexual needs into the mainstream, penetrating even to the heart of fundamentalist Christian attempts to domesticate the sexualized housewife.
Implicitly, however, where science works to the advantage of women's liberation, it can also reverse the gains that have been made. In their final chapter, the authors discuss how the AIDs panic was used to justify a pre-existing moral backlash against the sexual revolution in the mainstream media. Simultaneously, new scientific arguments affirmed the old social dictum that women "naturally" wanted love and marriage, and sought to re-center vaginal intercourse over clitoral stimulation through the discovery of yet another hotly disputed piece of female anatomy, the "G-spot." Nevertheless, the sexual revolution solidified the notion that women have an equal right to pleasure and enjoyment in sex. Even where in other areas a double standard persists, this constituted a radical redefinition of heterosexuality and thus power relations between men and women generally. For this reason, the authors sound their rallying cry to a feminist revolution that will again claim ownership of the sexual revolution and assert this pleasure for its own sake as a central political right. (207)
Nevertheless, this book contains many telling insights into how science operated as a mechanism of power and moral enforcement throughout the twentieth century. Despite the monopolistic grasp of medicine and psychoanalysis on sex for most of the century, it proved unable to contain women's changing experience of sex and increasing dissatisfaction with monogamous heterosexuality in the post-war period. We owe the expansion of women's sexual freedom not to technological innovations like the birth control pill or the sexological studies of Kinsey and Masters and Johnson who "rediscovered" the clitoris, but to social forces that truly made the sexual revolution a women's movement. Science in both cases was merely a supplement to social change, giving validity to an altogether new view of sex. If science collapsed clitoral orgasm into the end goal of sex, feminists opened it up again as a new symbol of sexual autonomy. The new stress on reciprocal pleasure provoked a number of long-lasting social effects. A new industry of sex that brought the market for women's sexual needs into the mainstream, penetrating even to the heart of fundamentalist Christian attempts to domesticate the sexualized housewife.
Implicitly, however, where science works to the advantage of women's liberation, it can also reverse the gains that have been made. In their final chapter, the authors discuss how the AIDs panic was used to justify a pre-existing moral backlash against the sexual revolution in the mainstream media. Simultaneously, new scientific arguments affirmed the old social dictum that women "naturally" wanted love and marriage, and sought to re-center vaginal intercourse over clitoral stimulation through the discovery of yet another hotly disputed piece of female anatomy, the "G-spot." Nevertheless, the sexual revolution solidified the notion that women have an equal right to pleasure and enjoyment in sex. Even where in other areas a double standard persists, this constituted a radical redefinition of heterosexuality and thus power relations between men and women generally. For this reason, the authors sound their rallying cry to a feminist revolution that will again claim ownership of the sexual revolution and assert this pleasure for its own sake as a central political right. (207)
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 23, 2014
Great book about the sexual revolution that began in the late 1950s/early 1960s and the role feminism and gay rights play in the creation and understanding of that revolution. A lot of excellent history here, as the authors take us through the decades to the mid-1980s concerning America's changing viewpoints on sex. I read this book because I love Barbara Ehrenreich's work; I think she is absolutely brilliant.
September 1, 2014
This book had a lot of interesting things to say. It was a very informative glimpse of attitudes in the 60s, 70s, and 80s. At this point it's a bit outdated, but it's odd how many things haven't changed at all since the 80s. It's interesting to see the evolution of certain ideas and beliefs, many of which still very much affect us today.
I've read a bunch of Barbara Ehrenreich's books and I have to say, I think this will be the last one. The first couple I read were great, but I've now read a few that seem to have a similar issue. She writes with a very strong point of view. I don't mind her opinions. In fact, I mostly agree with her. But the point of view with which she writes is so strong and biased, that it makes me question the authenticity of her work. It makes me wonder if she's really including all of the evidence she can, or if she's just including things that showcase her point. Of course all scientists and social scientists do this to an extent, and it's absolutely okay and even necessary to have a point of view. But when that point of view is so strong that every word is drenched in it, I have to question her objectiveity (especially when it's something that clearly affects her so strongly). It takes it out of the realm of sociology and into a kind of opinion piece. I want to hear all the facts about something and make a decision of my own about it. And if all of the facts lead me to her opinion, which they usually do, then that's great. But I don't want to feel like I'm being forcibly guided in that direction and condemned if I disagree.
I've read a bunch of Barbara Ehrenreich's books and I have to say, I think this will be the last one. The first couple I read were great, but I've now read a few that seem to have a similar issue. She writes with a very strong point of view. I don't mind her opinions. In fact, I mostly agree with her. But the point of view with which she writes is so strong and biased, that it makes me question the authenticity of her work. It makes me wonder if she's really including all of the evidence she can, or if she's just including things that showcase her point. Of course all scientists and social scientists do this to an extent, and it's absolutely okay and even necessary to have a point of view. But when that point of view is so strong that every word is drenched in it, I have to question her objectiveity (especially when it's something that clearly affects her so strongly). It takes it out of the realm of sociology and into a kind of opinion piece. I want to hear all the facts about something and make a decision of my own about it. And if all of the facts lead me to her opinion, which they usually do, then that's great. But I don't want to feel like I'm being forcibly guided in that direction and condemned if I disagree.
October 23, 2023
The short version of this book is that the sexual revolution that started in the 1960s was really a revolution for women, rather than men. This is all a bit obvious, since the male relationship to sex barely changed with the ‘revolution’ – other than perhaps getting a bit more of it – while contraception and changing economic relationships had a major impact on women.
And this short version is good as it goes. The authors also discuss advice that women received and also how ‘science’ and ‘medicine’ constructed women and sex as problems to be solved. This revolution was also anything but a simple, one-way street towards increasing permissiveness. There were clear backlashes, from the usual suspects (conservative Christians) but also in response HIV/AIDS and moral panics along the way.
The book starts with a chapter on The Beatles – and makes the point that the young teenage girls who were wetting themselves while screaming at their concerts, would later go on to reshape the limits of female sexuality. But the part of this book I found most interesting was the idea that sex became more performative as time went on, and I’m not sure that was the point of the revolution.
Let me explain. Sex became something that science decided could be measured. But what does it mean to measure human intimacy? Well, science likes big, obvious things to count (you should be doing the ‘not everything that matters can be counted and not everything that can be counted matters’ right about now). Now, don’t get me wrong – I like an orgasm as much as the next person – but even when I was much younger, the ‘best’ sex was much more than a race to ejaculation. But science doesn’t really like the non-quantifiable. And the advantage of orgasm is you can definitely count them. Male ones especially, but female ones too if you pay attention.
And if you can count something, everything else is meant to fade into the background. The problem with this goes back to one of my favourite things. Years ago I was told that injecting heroin was like having seven orgasms at a single time. Nothing has put me off the idea of heroin quite so much. One orgasm at a time seems more than enough to me. I can’t even begin to imagine what that multiple could even mean – or how it could be measured – but it certainly never sounded like something I might enjoy.
Then there is pornography, then pornography directed at women, then sex for entertainment, then sex because we’re bored, then curious sex, then more bored sex, then sex parties (fuck-a-wear), then S&M … except, I’m making all of this sound like one of those things about gateway drugs or something. But what the authors make clear is that sex is commodified in more ways than we sometimes realise.
And this brings us back to the performative aspect of sex. Not just the ‘was he any good?’ idea of performance, or whether he performed oral sex or even basically noticed you where there at all – but the idea of a literal performance, And the authors particularly discuss this in relation to experimenting with S&M. I’m much more boring than people who know me even guess I am – but I really don’t like the whole idea of pain or humiliation. Which makes S&M something I can’t imagine being sexy. That said, I’d never thought of it in the terms the authors discuss here. You know, it’s not just about putting a funny leather mask on and buying a whip – there seems to be so much preparation involved, much more than I could be bothered with, really. You know, much more than drawing a bath and having floating candles or something – not that I’ve ever done that either … you should be noticing something of a theme building here. The idea of going out, buying a ton of crap to wear, coming up with a whole script of who does what and who urinates when and what my secret word for ‘stop doing that right now’ might be – honestly, I’d rather go to a play and be entertained by professionals.
I’ve nothing against people doing anything like that to each other – knock yourselves out, as they say – but it really isn’t what I like about sex. I like the closeness, the kindness, even just the holding. I think the sexual revolution has barely been half completed. It has nothing so much to do with free love or whatever, but if there is a joy of sex, for me at least, it comes from care and desire and stepping outside of the endless commercialism of our society even for the briefest of moments. I’m not sure if pornography has ruined sex nearly as much as the commercialised performativity of sex has. Maybe it would be nice if we had qualitative measures for sex beyond counting orgasms.
And this short version is good as it goes. The authors also discuss advice that women received and also how ‘science’ and ‘medicine’ constructed women and sex as problems to be solved. This revolution was also anything but a simple, one-way street towards increasing permissiveness. There were clear backlashes, from the usual suspects (conservative Christians) but also in response HIV/AIDS and moral panics along the way.
The book starts with a chapter on The Beatles – and makes the point that the young teenage girls who were wetting themselves while screaming at their concerts, would later go on to reshape the limits of female sexuality. But the part of this book I found most interesting was the idea that sex became more performative as time went on, and I’m not sure that was the point of the revolution.
Let me explain. Sex became something that science decided could be measured. But what does it mean to measure human intimacy? Well, science likes big, obvious things to count (you should be doing the ‘not everything that matters can be counted and not everything that can be counted matters’ right about now). Now, don’t get me wrong – I like an orgasm as much as the next person – but even when I was much younger, the ‘best’ sex was much more than a race to ejaculation. But science doesn’t really like the non-quantifiable. And the advantage of orgasm is you can definitely count them. Male ones especially, but female ones too if you pay attention.
And if you can count something, everything else is meant to fade into the background. The problem with this goes back to one of my favourite things. Years ago I was told that injecting heroin was like having seven orgasms at a single time. Nothing has put me off the idea of heroin quite so much. One orgasm at a time seems more than enough to me. I can’t even begin to imagine what that multiple could even mean – or how it could be measured – but it certainly never sounded like something I might enjoy.
Then there is pornography, then pornography directed at women, then sex for entertainment, then sex because we’re bored, then curious sex, then more bored sex, then sex parties (fuck-a-wear), then S&M … except, I’m making all of this sound like one of those things about gateway drugs or something. But what the authors make clear is that sex is commodified in more ways than we sometimes realise.
And this brings us back to the performative aspect of sex. Not just the ‘was he any good?’ idea of performance, or whether he performed oral sex or even basically noticed you where there at all – but the idea of a literal performance, And the authors particularly discuss this in relation to experimenting with S&M. I’m much more boring than people who know me even guess I am – but I really don’t like the whole idea of pain or humiliation. Which makes S&M something I can’t imagine being sexy. That said, I’d never thought of it in the terms the authors discuss here. You know, it’s not just about putting a funny leather mask on and buying a whip – there seems to be so much preparation involved, much more than I could be bothered with, really. You know, much more than drawing a bath and having floating candles or something – not that I’ve ever done that either … you should be noticing something of a theme building here. The idea of going out, buying a ton of crap to wear, coming up with a whole script of who does what and who urinates when and what my secret word for ‘stop doing that right now’ might be – honestly, I’d rather go to a play and be entertained by professionals.
I’ve nothing against people doing anything like that to each other – knock yourselves out, as they say – but it really isn’t what I like about sex. I like the closeness, the kindness, even just the holding. I think the sexual revolution has barely been half completed. It has nothing so much to do with free love or whatever, but if there is a joy of sex, for me at least, it comes from care and desire and stepping outside of the endless commercialism of our society even for the briefest of moments. I’m not sure if pornography has ruined sex nearly as much as the commercialised performativity of sex has. Maybe it would be nice if we had qualitative measures for sex beyond counting orgasms.
December 28, 2024
It makes you question everything you thought you knew about intimacy, relationships, and the cultural forces shaping them
The way it dives into the sexual revolution of the 1960s and 70s isn’t just historical—it’s deeply human. It doesn’t romanticize the era or treat it like a neat chapter in feminist progress. Instead, it shows how the so-called liberation of sex was as messy, complicated, and contradictory as the people living through it
What hit me the hardest was how it unpacks the “feminization” of sex. It’s not about making sex soft or delicate—it’s about shifting the focus from conquest to connection, from power to mutuality. The book doesn’t just say, “This is what changed.” It asks, “Did it change enough?” For every step forward, there are lingering questions: Did we really escape the male gaze, or did we just adapt to it in new ways?
The way it talks about women’s sexual agency feels so relevant, even decades later. It’s not just about freedom to explore—it’s about the freedom to not conform, to define desire and intimacy on your own terms. But what I loved most was how it refused to be simplistic. It doesn’t say, “Here’s the solution.” Instead, it shows the tensions, the contradictions, the ways the revolution both empowered and failed women.
And it’s not just about women. The book also touches on how these shifts impacted men, how the old scripts of masculinity were challenged but not entirely rewritten. That balance—exploring how both genders navigated these changes—felt so nuanced, so honest
One thing I kept thinking about was how much of this is still true today. The commodification of sex, the pressures to perform, the way “liberation” can sometimes feel like just another set of rules to follow—it’s all still here, just dressed up differently. It made me wonder: How much have we really changed since the 70s? Are we freer, or are we just pretending to be?
By the end, I didn’t feel like the book was trying to tell me what to think—it was inviting me to have a conversation, to wrestle with these ideas and figure out what they mean in my own life. That’s what makes it so powerful. It’s not just about history—it’s about the ongoing process of understanding ourselves and each other
The way it dives into the sexual revolution of the 1960s and 70s isn’t just historical—it’s deeply human. It doesn’t romanticize the era or treat it like a neat chapter in feminist progress. Instead, it shows how the so-called liberation of sex was as messy, complicated, and contradictory as the people living through it
What hit me the hardest was how it unpacks the “feminization” of sex. It’s not about making sex soft or delicate—it’s about shifting the focus from conquest to connection, from power to mutuality. The book doesn’t just say, “This is what changed.” It asks, “Did it change enough?” For every step forward, there are lingering questions: Did we really escape the male gaze, or did we just adapt to it in new ways?
The way it talks about women’s sexual agency feels so relevant, even decades later. It’s not just about freedom to explore—it’s about the freedom to not conform, to define desire and intimacy on your own terms. But what I loved most was how it refused to be simplistic. It doesn’t say, “Here’s the solution.” Instead, it shows the tensions, the contradictions, the ways the revolution both empowered and failed women.
And it’s not just about women. The book also touches on how these shifts impacted men, how the old scripts of masculinity were challenged but not entirely rewritten. That balance—exploring how both genders navigated these changes—felt so nuanced, so honest
One thing I kept thinking about was how much of this is still true today. The commodification of sex, the pressures to perform, the way “liberation” can sometimes feel like just another set of rules to follow—it’s all still here, just dressed up differently. It made me wonder: How much have we really changed since the 70s? Are we freer, or are we just pretending to be?
By the end, I didn’t feel like the book was trying to tell me what to think—it was inviting me to have a conversation, to wrestle with these ideas and figure out what they mean in my own life. That’s what makes it so powerful. It’s not just about history—it’s about the ongoing process of understanding ourselves and each other
December 5, 2023
This is a great account of the sexual revolution from a female liberation point of view. While at times dense due to its academic style, the book chronicles eras of sexual liberation from different populations in the context of greater social movements. Of course it’s from the 1980s so it could use a modern update.
November 20, 2024
It’s mind boggling to me that it’s been almost 40 years from the publication of this book and women are STILL fighting to get out of the patriarchal box of being a virgin that’s really great at sex but not too great or you’re a slut. Also fighting to keep the autonomy of our bodies and what we do with them, in 2024. As always, women I love you, men die.
April 27, 2021
...or how history is rewritten to serve the masters of the writer. So there was a ”revolution”. A TV show for the white women, not including brown women, not including trans women. And the show was a distraction from the Civil Rights Movement. And now it the 'splaining to make the TV show real.
October 22, 2015
Remaking Love (Hardcover) 0385184980
by Barbara Ehrenreich, Elizabeth Hess, Gloria Jacobs.
from the library
TOC
Introduction
ch1 Beatlemania
ch2 Up from the valley of the dolls
ch3 The battle for orgasm equity
ch4 The lust frontier
ch5 Fundamentalist sex
ch6 the politics of promiscuity
ch7 conclusion
I have been happily reading and reminiscing until I started ch4. Suddenly the book has rolled off the rails. Most of what they wrote about S/M is mostly wrong. Would that there were no sexism, no patriarchal nonsense in this community. But worse is the lack of understanding of the structure of exchange of power. Top/bottom does not equal dominance/submission which does not equal sadism/masochism.
by Barbara Ehrenreich, Elizabeth Hess, Gloria Jacobs.
from the library
TOC
Introduction
ch1 Beatlemania
ch2 Up from the valley of the dolls
ch3 The battle for orgasm equity
ch4 The lust frontier
ch5 Fundamentalist sex
ch6 the politics of promiscuity
ch7 conclusion
I have been happily reading and reminiscing until I started ch4. Suddenly the book has rolled off the rails. Most of what they wrote about S/M is mostly wrong. Would that there were no sexism, no patriarchal nonsense in this community. But worse is the lack of understanding of the structure of exchange of power. Top/bottom does not equal dominance/submission which does not equal sadism/masochism.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 30, 2014
In a Nutshell: An exploration of women's liberation and sexual revolution as a separate and unique experience.
Thoughts:
The sexual double standards are infuriating! Men, if you don't want women having sex outside of marriage, STOP HAVING SEX WITH ANYONE WHO IS NOT YOUR WIFE. Problem solved. Or if you can't bring yourself to do that, then let women do their thing and quit complaining. IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU.
Thoughts:
The sexual double standards are infuriating! Men, if you don't want women having sex outside of marriage, STOP HAVING SEX WITH ANYONE WHO IS NOT YOUR WIFE. Problem solved. Or if you can't bring yourself to do that, then let women do their thing and quit complaining. IT'S NOT ABOUT YOU.
August 17, 2010
Classic and wonderful. I particularly love her chapter Fundamentalist Sex: Hitting Below the Bible Belt. Keep on speaking truth to power, Barbara Ehrenreich!
December 6, 2010
A good and useful book, altho the last two-thirds seem totally outdated now. I would really love to see an update or followup to this book, with the last twenty years taken into account.
October 22, 2015
borrowed from the library a hardcover edition while mine is in storage
The hardcover has 228 pages so it is a different edition.See my writing on the hardcover edition.
The hardcover has 228 pages so it is a different edition.See my writing on the hardcover edition.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 30, 2011
I found it interesting reading about the psychology of women's love lives.
Displaying 1 - 16 of 16 reviews