“Current dogma is to teach by rote that sex is “healthy” as if it existed outside social relations, as if it had no ties to anything mean or lowdown, to history, to power, to the dispossession of women from freedom. But for sex not to mean dirt—for sex not to be dirty—the status of women would have to change radically; there would have to be equality without equivocation or qualification, social equality for all women, not personal exemptions from insult for some women in some circumstances. The next question—a real one and a fascinating one—then is: with women not dirty, with sex not dirty, could men fuck? To what extent does intercourse depend on the inferiority of women?"
With this question, Andrea Dworkin managed to piss off pretty much everyone. Her writing, activism, and overall legacy are scorned on the right and left, by chauvinist pigs and radical feminists alike. To both camps, Dworkin rightfully replies, “Intercourse is still being reviled in print by people who have not read it, reduced to slogans by journalists posing as critics or sages or deep thinkers, treated as if it were odious and hateful by every asshole who thinks that what will heal this violent world is more respect for dead white men.” To read Intercourse in its entirety, to take its core questions seriously, is to wholeheartedly refute the controversy surrounding it and to recognize the critical vitriol for what it is – a reactionary impulse against Dworkin’s radical vision of sexual equality and liberation.
Her argument is a simple but threatening one. Sex as we know it contributes to and relies upon the patriarchal power structure. In a world of gendered oppression, there is no such thing as a liberated fuck. Therefore, (and here’s the bite) those of us who desire to fuck and be fucked are complicit in the maintenance of the gender hierarchy. Through her cutting literary, historical, psychoanalytic, religious, and cultural analysis, Dworkin reveals that at some level, no matter how hard we try to deny it, we already know this.
One powerful critique of Dworkin that actually comes from an engagement with her work is that she may ascribe too much power to the act of intercourse. Perhaps claiming that, “the experience of fucking changes people, so that they are often lost to each other and slowly they are lost to human hope,” is taking things a bit too far. Maybe giving sex the power to shape metaphysical reality is an overstep. Yet, Dworkin convincingly argues for intercourse as a Hegelian dialectic, the original mechanism for subject creation in the face of the Other, or the outside world. She states, “The women are the escape route from mental self-absorption into reality: they are the world, connection, contact, touch, feeling, what is real, the physical, what is true outside the frenetic self-involvement of the men, the convulsions of their passionate self-regard.” In the gendered hierarchy, sex creates personhood and objecthood, the self and the world. And for those who are defined in relation to their bodily utility, the consequences are unavoidably real.
“Having an interior life of wanting, needing, gives fucking human meaning in a human context. “All my life,” Williams wrote, “I have been haunted by the obsession that to desire a thing or to love a thing intensely is to place yourself in a vulnerable position, to be a possible, if not a probable, loser of what you most want.” Without that inner fragility and fear, fucking is likely to become, as Williams wrote in a later play, “quick, and hard, and brutal. . . like the jabbing of a hypodermic needle. . . ” Being stigmatized by sex is being marked by its meaning in a human life of loneliness and imperfection, where some pain is indelible.”
To Dworkin, fucking is not hopeless. Cradled within its power to destroy is our inherent fragility, vulnerability, dependency. Her critics are quick to call her a hypocrite, married to a man yet calling for the abolition of sex qua sex? Yet, she speaks beyond the interpersonal, criticizing and unveiling a systemic ill. The fuck is an act of possession, translated from the individual act to a communally defined and maintained structure of power. Her question is directed at the political meaning of intercourse, which she poses thus: “can an occupied people—physically occupied inside, internally invaded—be free; can those with a metaphysically compromised privacy have self-determination; can those without a biologically based physical integrity have self-respect?” She calls not for any direct action, but at the very least an interrogation – an unflinching analysis of fucking and its relationship to gender hierarchies. And this very questioning has led to her ostracization, indicative of the destabilizing power of the question itself.
In so far as Dworkin gives us an answer to these questions, it is a revolutionary one, and it comes in the form of new questions for a new order. She posits that if intercourse can ever be an expression of sexual equality, it will have to survive the sexual revolution on “its own merits,” in a world where male power over women has been destroyed, where sex can be chosen by “full human beings with full human freedom.” In this way, Dworkin’s critics can be lumped together with the critics of all radical political thought – those who are afraid of the unknown, afraid of the futures we would choose if we were truly free, afraid of the unformed nature of liberatory subjecthood, of who we would be without oppression, of what we would want.
I’ll close with one of my favorite lines from this masterpiece. Rest in power, Andrea.
"Maybe life is tragic and the God who does not exist made women inferior so that men could fuck us; or maybe we can only know this much for certain—that when intercourse exists and is experienced under conditions of force, fear, or inequality, it destroys in women the will to political freedom; it destroys the love of freedom itself. We become female: occupied; collaborators against each other, especially against those among us who resist male domination—the lone, crazy resisters, the organized resistance. The pleasure of submission does not and cannot change the fact, the cost, the indignity, of inferiority."