[description: a nude man with an erection sits on a couch playing video games]
I was working on some unfinished photos from last year, and this one in particular gave me an idea. While I guess I've made something of a habit of taking pictures of erections in a variety of contexts (because a little twist of sexuality makes almost anything more exciting, and also because I find the idea of involving sexuality in nonstandard situations intriguing), something about the deliberately incidental nature of the erection in this photo struck me. I'm not playing with myself. I'm not even especially posed in such a way as to emphasize the erection, or my sexuality. I could easily believe that in this picture I had simply been playing video games, and for some reason - whatever it may be: a breeze from the window, a pretty girl on the screen, a sudden awareness of my nakedness, pressure from my arm, or just random blood circulation - my genitalia began to stiffen. Which is exactly the sort of thing I've talked about both in terms of why I think erections should be ignored in nudist situations, as well as why I don't think they should count as "sexually explicit" (i.e., pornographic) from the perspective of censors.
So now I have half a mind to do a whole series of photos depicting "incidental erections" in various situations. The emphasis must not be on the erection itself - while its inclusion in the image is paramount, the subject must be involved in some other non-sexual activity. (Think of it as non-pornographic erections). The point of this would be to show that erections are a natural part of the male human anatomy, and that even though they are typically defined in sexual terms, they do not necessarily have to occur in an obviously sexual context. They are a normal part of life for most males, and are perfectly harmless when not being deliberately manipulated toward sexual purposes. This will emphasize the importance of acting versus being (which is an important nudist principle - nudity is simply a state of being, while lewdness is a form of conscious behavior), while also drawing attention to the fact that life itself is a highly sensual experience (arguably even more so when experienced in the nude). This is a fact of life, and there is nothing wrong with it. It is not necessarily an ugly truth, nor a problematic one, when considered from the perspective of giving people the freedom to choose how to lead their lives.
Monday, May 2, 2016
Monday, April 25, 2016
Sexual Consent - Right or Privilege?
It's always gratifying when you have that moment of epiphany in which you're able to pinpoint precisely the way in which your personal philosophy differs from so many others'. It's one thing to go about the world suffering frustration at every turn by people expressing beliefs that contradict your intuitive understanding of an issue. But being able to actually articulate where and why that difference arises - well, it brings a certain level of peace of mind, and it's also the first step in being able to explain your own position in the hope that maybe some more people will come over to your side.
Being a sexual progressive, it's incredibly frustrating for me to find frequent fault with the platform of mainstream sexual progress, because I feel that it's not progressive enough. It's one thing to be able to ally with other progressives against the common enemy of sexual repression and moral conservatism, but when your fight for sexual liberation places you at odds with even those who should be on your side, it's a very isolating and discouraging feeling. Now, it may be true that there are many out there, even among the progressive camps, who cling to the belief that sexual consent ought to indeed be considered a privilege instead of a right (rather than this simply being a semantic misunderstanding), but stating the difference is enough to create awareness of there being two different ways to approach the issue, so that in the future, progressives can dictate their stance, and other progressives who disagree with that stance can know that there is other ground to occupy, on which there may be others already standing, ready to stand with them.
(As a disclaimer, I'm not claiming to be the first person to ever consider the question of whether sexual consent should be considered a privilege or a right - although I have come to this point by independent channels of thought and reason - but I see so little support for the belief that sexual consent should be considered a right - a belief that I hold - and so much support for the other view, that I feel warranted in constructing my position rather than joining one that, as far as I can see in any direction, either does not exist, or is not visible enough to be easily found. And if the latter be the case, I hope that by adding my voice, it may become all the more visible, if even by just a little bit).
Now, to state my position:
Sexual Consent - Right or Privilege?
The freedom to give consent - and, by extension, its opposite: the freedom to deny consent - to [give and/or receive, among mutually consenting parties] sexual stimulation is not a legal privilege to be granted to select populations with certain limitations. It is a fundamental human right.
Sexual progressives these days almost unanimously voice the opinion that consent is the cornerstone of positive sexuality. But while this is certainly true, they fail to make the distinction between true consent, and consent as a privilege granted by the state. To support the legal construct of sexual consent - as these "progressives" mostly do - is, in fact, a regressive approach. It is an acquiescence to the day's moral taboos. Fifty years ago, homosexuals were not permitted the privilege to consent to sexual acts with each other. Does this mean that they did not deserve the right to engage in such behaviors? Certainly not! That the law has changed since then is a victory for sexual progress, but do you think this ever would have happened without people challenging the notion that the law is the final arbiter of the validity of people's desires?
You might believe that, since the law has been more or less "corrected" for its previous glaring omission(s), we can now afford to fall back on the view that the law is sovereign. But nothing about the law's fallibility has changed. Including a disenfranchised minority under the law's protection does not change the fact (or my opinion, if you wish) that sexual consent ought to be considered a human right, and not a legal privilege. Is our work done now, or is progress a never-ending pursuit? Should we not stay vigilant against the forces of regression, lest public sentiment take another turn, and we find ourselves sliding back into old ways? Then, all our support for the new law will be easily switched over to support the newer, more regressive laws, because by putting our faith in the law, we've demonstrated that while public sentiment may change, in the end, the law has the final say.
Rather, I think it is more righteous to acknowledge an adherence to the law only insofar as doing so contributes to the social order, and not to the extent of letting the law dictate our personal philosophies. For if laws may change through time (as they most assuredly do), then there must be a greater purpose guiding them, and I believe that purpose is human conscience. And rather than a legal privilege - like operating a motor vehicle - it is my belief that the ability to grant or deny consent to engage in sexually stimulating activities is one of those inalienable rights upon the recognition of which the dignity of human life depends. Furthermore, I consider this a fundamental tenet of true sex-positivity.
Being a sexual progressive, it's incredibly frustrating for me to find frequent fault with the platform of mainstream sexual progress, because I feel that it's not progressive enough. It's one thing to be able to ally with other progressives against the common enemy of sexual repression and moral conservatism, but when your fight for sexual liberation places you at odds with even those who should be on your side, it's a very isolating and discouraging feeling. Now, it may be true that there are many out there, even among the progressive camps, who cling to the belief that sexual consent ought to indeed be considered a privilege instead of a right (rather than this simply being a semantic misunderstanding), but stating the difference is enough to create awareness of there being two different ways to approach the issue, so that in the future, progressives can dictate their stance, and other progressives who disagree with that stance can know that there is other ground to occupy, on which there may be others already standing, ready to stand with them.
(As a disclaimer, I'm not claiming to be the first person to ever consider the question of whether sexual consent should be considered a privilege or a right - although I have come to this point by independent channels of thought and reason - but I see so little support for the belief that sexual consent should be considered a right - a belief that I hold - and so much support for the other view, that I feel warranted in constructing my position rather than joining one that, as far as I can see in any direction, either does not exist, or is not visible enough to be easily found. And if the latter be the case, I hope that by adding my voice, it may become all the more visible, if even by just a little bit).
Now, to state my position:
Sexual Consent - Right or Privilege?
The freedom to give consent - and, by extension, its opposite: the freedom to deny consent - to [give and/or receive, among mutually consenting parties] sexual stimulation is not a legal privilege to be granted to select populations with certain limitations. It is a fundamental human right.
Sexual progressives these days almost unanimously voice the opinion that consent is the cornerstone of positive sexuality. But while this is certainly true, they fail to make the distinction between true consent, and consent as a privilege granted by the state. To support the legal construct of sexual consent - as these "progressives" mostly do - is, in fact, a regressive approach. It is an acquiescence to the day's moral taboos. Fifty years ago, homosexuals were not permitted the privilege to consent to sexual acts with each other. Does this mean that they did not deserve the right to engage in such behaviors? Certainly not! That the law has changed since then is a victory for sexual progress, but do you think this ever would have happened without people challenging the notion that the law is the final arbiter of the validity of people's desires?
You might believe that, since the law has been more or less "corrected" for its previous glaring omission(s), we can now afford to fall back on the view that the law is sovereign. But nothing about the law's fallibility has changed. Including a disenfranchised minority under the law's protection does not change the fact (or my opinion, if you wish) that sexual consent ought to be considered a human right, and not a legal privilege. Is our work done now, or is progress a never-ending pursuit? Should we not stay vigilant against the forces of regression, lest public sentiment take another turn, and we find ourselves sliding back into old ways? Then, all our support for the new law will be easily switched over to support the newer, more regressive laws, because by putting our faith in the law, we've demonstrated that while public sentiment may change, in the end, the law has the final say.
Rather, I think it is more righteous to acknowledge an adherence to the law only insofar as doing so contributes to the social order, and not to the extent of letting the law dictate our personal philosophies. For if laws may change through time (as they most assuredly do), then there must be a greater purpose guiding them, and I believe that purpose is human conscience. And rather than a legal privilege - like operating a motor vehicle - it is my belief that the ability to grant or deny consent to engage in sexually stimulating activities is one of those inalienable rights upon the recognition of which the dignity of human life depends. Furthermore, I consider this a fundamental tenet of true sex-positivity.
Friday, April 22, 2016
A Crime To Hide
I'm (finally, I know) looking over the photos I took over the course of 2015, and I came across one that I really like, that I don't think I ever posted - here, or anywhere else. And I just thought to myself, it's a crime not to let the world see this picture. (Which, incidentally, is a similar thought process to the one that led me to start sharing my nude self-portraits all the way back in 2008). Sadly, I don't have any kind of fame as an artist, and I can't even post images like this one on most photo-sharing sites where I like to present my photography to an audience, because they generally don't allow "pornography" which includes the most artistic erotica, so long as it includes certain types of content, including erections. And though I could post an image like this one on any number of amateur porn sites, I honestly don't believe that a bunch of perverts primarily looking to get off would be able to fully appreciate it. But, just look at this picture:
[description: backlit portrait of a trim male with long hair, in the kitchen, nude with erection]
At the risk of sounding like Narcissus, it's gorgeous! (The truth is, I would be just as enthusiastic if this were a picture I'd taken of someone else - or even if it had been a picture someone else had taken. To reiterate what I've explained before, I don't shoot self-portraits out of any kind of excessive self-obsession, but mainly due to a combination of convenience, anxiety, and the limitations imposed by certain modern taboos. In a perfect world, I would prefer to be shooting other people as gorgeous as this; I actually consider having only myself to work with a frustrating obstacle, and I've merely done the best I can with the material I've been given).
When I look at this picture, I just think about how unfortunate it is that the world will largely not get a chance to see it. There are forces out there - the forces of chastity - that want to keep images like this one hidden behind barriers that only immoral perverts would ever dare cross. Why? Would seeing an image like this one destroy a person's soul? I don't believe that knowledge of the human sexual condition is in and of itself ruinous. This image is beauty incarnate, and I want the whole world to have access to it. I honestly think it transcends the genre of "pornography" and manages to accomplish my personal goal and mission statement of creating erotic works that rise to the level of fine art. I want to say that you needn't be someone who enjoys the erotic appeal of the male form to recognize the beauty in this image. If people didn't behave so weirdly when confronted with the human body and its sexual functions, I would absolutely support plastering this image on the walls of art galleries and above fireplace mantels the world over. I lament that, again, due to the weirdness with which people approach these issues, I can't show this image (and the many others I take) to my own family, to demonstrate what talent I have, and what I've been doing with my life, where I've been applying my passions. Some (perhaps many) of my images, admittedly, are more for fun and the unbridled pursuit of eroticism. But because the censors are blind, I cannot even take pride in the best works I am able to accomplish, due to blanket prohibitions against certain sights that are part and parcel of most people's lives (every man views a penis on the regular, and an erection on occasion if not more frequently, and many women have similar viewing privileges, although there is no reason why even those who don't should not have access to such fundamental knowledge of human anatomy).
To go even further (and I may be pushing it already, but I'm not going to stop halfway), it seems to me a crime that sights like this aren't allowed to be displayed in person, in full public view. It's kind of a joke how many times people (some of them I've lived with, others I've interacted with online) have told me that it should be a crime to cover up my body with clothes. And I agree, wholeheartedly - but yet, there is the law. That's partly the reason I am a nudist. An advocate of public nudity. And one with a lax opinion on the subject of public displays of so-called indecency (including something as innocuous as an isolated erection). Granted, not everyone is equally "beautiful" (a subjective thing to start with), and we live in a democracy, so it wouldn't be fair to let "beautiful" people (but by whose judgment?) walk around naked and have sex in public while the rest of the population are discriminated against for their lack of fitness or lucky genes. Still, as I've said before, I'd be willing to put up with giving everyone the freedom to go nude and engage in acts of reasonable sensuality in public, just for the (probably rare) privilege of being able to witness those beautiful specimens with whom we occasionally cross paths.
Alas, it seems that it was not meant to be. And why? Because we live in a rape culture, where the slightest hint of naked flesh, accompanied by an unasked-for feeling of titillation, imbues us with a sense of entitlement? I'd be more than happy to extricate these brutish animals from the rest of us more civilized creatures, but perhaps the fact that it hasn't happened yet is because they constitute too large a percentage of the population. I feel as though I am the member of some secret society, who may only practice its rituals under cloak and dagger in unhallowed halls accessed by secret passages. Except that there isn't much of a society around me, and it isn't as much fun without community. Nudism is only a vague approximation of some but not all of my ideals. I am a lone wolf without a tribe. An alien stranded on an unfamiliar planet, with no knowledge of where my home is, let alone how to get back there.
[description: backlit portrait of a trim male with long hair, in the kitchen, nude with erection]
At the risk of sounding like Narcissus, it's gorgeous! (The truth is, I would be just as enthusiastic if this were a picture I'd taken of someone else - or even if it had been a picture someone else had taken. To reiterate what I've explained before, I don't shoot self-portraits out of any kind of excessive self-obsession, but mainly due to a combination of convenience, anxiety, and the limitations imposed by certain modern taboos. In a perfect world, I would prefer to be shooting other people as gorgeous as this; I actually consider having only myself to work with a frustrating obstacle, and I've merely done the best I can with the material I've been given).
When I look at this picture, I just think about how unfortunate it is that the world will largely not get a chance to see it. There are forces out there - the forces of chastity - that want to keep images like this one hidden behind barriers that only immoral perverts would ever dare cross. Why? Would seeing an image like this one destroy a person's soul? I don't believe that knowledge of the human sexual condition is in and of itself ruinous. This image is beauty incarnate, and I want the whole world to have access to it. I honestly think it transcends the genre of "pornography" and manages to accomplish my personal goal and mission statement of creating erotic works that rise to the level of fine art. I want to say that you needn't be someone who enjoys the erotic appeal of the male form to recognize the beauty in this image. If people didn't behave so weirdly when confronted with the human body and its sexual functions, I would absolutely support plastering this image on the walls of art galleries and above fireplace mantels the world over. I lament that, again, due to the weirdness with which people approach these issues, I can't show this image (and the many others I take) to my own family, to demonstrate what talent I have, and what I've been doing with my life, where I've been applying my passions. Some (perhaps many) of my images, admittedly, are more for fun and the unbridled pursuit of eroticism. But because the censors are blind, I cannot even take pride in the best works I am able to accomplish, due to blanket prohibitions against certain sights that are part and parcel of most people's lives (every man views a penis on the regular, and an erection on occasion if not more frequently, and many women have similar viewing privileges, although there is no reason why even those who don't should not have access to such fundamental knowledge of human anatomy).
To go even further (and I may be pushing it already, but I'm not going to stop halfway), it seems to me a crime that sights like this aren't allowed to be displayed in person, in full public view. It's kind of a joke how many times people (some of them I've lived with, others I've interacted with online) have told me that it should be a crime to cover up my body with clothes. And I agree, wholeheartedly - but yet, there is the law. That's partly the reason I am a nudist. An advocate of public nudity. And one with a lax opinion on the subject of public displays of so-called indecency (including something as innocuous as an isolated erection). Granted, not everyone is equally "beautiful" (a subjective thing to start with), and we live in a democracy, so it wouldn't be fair to let "beautiful" people (but by whose judgment?) walk around naked and have sex in public while the rest of the population are discriminated against for their lack of fitness or lucky genes. Still, as I've said before, I'd be willing to put up with giving everyone the freedom to go nude and engage in acts of reasonable sensuality in public, just for the (probably rare) privilege of being able to witness those beautiful specimens with whom we occasionally cross paths.
Alas, it seems that it was not meant to be. And why? Because we live in a rape culture, where the slightest hint of naked flesh, accompanied by an unasked-for feeling of titillation, imbues us with a sense of entitlement? I'd be more than happy to extricate these brutish animals from the rest of us more civilized creatures, but perhaps the fact that it hasn't happened yet is because they constitute too large a percentage of the population. I feel as though I am the member of some secret society, who may only practice its rituals under cloak and dagger in unhallowed halls accessed by secret passages. Except that there isn't much of a society around me, and it isn't as much fun without community. Nudism is only a vague approximation of some but not all of my ideals. I am a lone wolf without a tribe. An alien stranded on an unfamiliar planet, with no knowledge of where my home is, let alone how to get back there.
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Springtime of Youth
It is not a sickness to prefer the flowering trees in the springtime to the full foliage of the summer. It is one thing to admire the buds before they've begun to bloom, but flowers are a naturally beautiful expression of sexual nubility. They attract your attention for a very good reason - the reason we are all here in the first place. So let us not forsake this splendorous phenomenon.
Sunday, March 20, 2016
Monster Cock
The erect phallus is the most potent symbol of desire in mankind's lexicon. The male sex organ becomes aroused with the promise of pleasure and satisfaction, the stiffness of its rigidity a throbbing gauge of carnal appetite. But one of the saddest cruel ironies of fate (and evidence that if there is a God, he's a sadistic bastard) is the fact that in this life, what we want is so rarely what we get. This tool was clearly made for drilling. But in my life experience - both on the internet and off - I've found that those who want my cock are almost exclusively not those whom my cock wants, and that those for whom my cock literally drips with desire, are almost exclusively not those who yearn to be filled up by it. Intelligent design? More like fiendish machinations. I feel like Tantalus in Hell, tempted by the beauty of frollicking nymphs, only to be regularly served up on a platter to the drunken satyrs of Dionysus' retinue instead. Except that I don't know what I've done to deserve such punishment - it just seems to be the way things are. As if there truly were a madman at the wheel.
Saturday, March 19, 2016
Hard To Categorize
Q: Are you male or female?
A: Neither of those terms adequately describes my experience.
I've struggled with accepting the label of "transgender" for myself. I feel like sometimes I'm a phony because I don't take hormones (although I suspect I have low testosterone to begin with), or have any desire to undergo surgery. My experience is mainly confined to my head. But I also feel like the stereotypical "transgender experience" is too myopically focused on transitioning. There is - ironically - too much emphasis on being one sex/gender or the other. The transgender person is conceptualized as occupying an unstable between point, in which their sex does not match their gender, and the ultimate goal is to make those two things align. In the end, they will go from being one sex to another, and their feeling of being transgender should, ideally, subside once their body conforms to their mind.
My experience is different. I don't mind remaining transgender. I don't have any strong desire to align my sex with my gender. I do identify mentally with the female gender, and though I have very feminine physical qualities, my anatomy is decidedly male. I also spent the majority of my life thinking I was a normal male. But I'm not. The whole thing about being transgender is that you get into this headspace where you want the rest of the world - which thinks only in black and white, where sex and gender are the same thing - to treat you as the sex/gender of your mind (i.e., gender) instead of your body (i.e., sex). So, for example, you have a penis, but you feel more comfortable using the women's restroom.
In the traditional transgender experience, this makes sense, because the goal is to transition, and eventually align your ("incorrect") sex with your ("correct") gender. Until you do, you're a work in progress, but you'd still prefer to associate with the sex/gender you identify with, and not the one you've been mislabeled as all your life. But how does this change for non-op transgender individuals? I acknowledge that my experience is not female, and that I will probably never be 100% female, because I don't desire to change my sexual anatomy. And even if I did, I'd have an experience that most females don't have - growing up male. I'd also lack an experience that most females have - growing up female.
But on the other hand, it's not fair to describe my experience as being typically male, either. I really don't fit neatly into either category, although I feel a strong pressure to conform to one or the other. Which is tough, you know. How do I identify? If I say I'm female, I feel a pang of guilt because I'm giving people the wrong impression of my anatomy, and they might get pissed off (like the cat-callers do, or the hypothetical other woman in the women's restroom) when they find out. It also doesn't do justice to the fact that I'm attracted to females, but I'm not, in all accuracy, a lesbian (although in some ways - mentally and not physically - I feel like one).
But if, on the other hand, I say I'm male, I'm not only misrepresenting my gender presentation (why would I go out of my way to cause confusion by telling the waiter or sales clerk who thinks that pretty customer in the dress is a girl, unless I wanted to sabotage his attempts to hit on me?), I'm doing an injustice to my gender identity as well. I may not be female, but I don't feel male, either. The truth is, I don't honestly feel comfortable identifying fully with either label, except insofar as we're willing to concede that we're talking solely about gender, and not sexual anatomy - which is not the way that most of the world uses these terms.
So, ultimately, I would be perfectly fine labeling myself as transgender, as long as it's understood that this is instead of, and not in addition to the designation of male or female. Yet, it still doesn't make it easy for me to navigate a world that presumes that sex and gender are one and the same, and that for those rare individuals for which this isn't true, they are only going through a temporary transitional stage before all is made right, and everybody's sex and gender line up once again. But I guess that's the price of being different in a world that thrives on conformity...
A: Neither of those terms adequately describes my experience.
I've struggled with accepting the label of "transgender" for myself. I feel like sometimes I'm a phony because I don't take hormones (although I suspect I have low testosterone to begin with), or have any desire to undergo surgery. My experience is mainly confined to my head. But I also feel like the stereotypical "transgender experience" is too myopically focused on transitioning. There is - ironically - too much emphasis on being one sex/gender or the other. The transgender person is conceptualized as occupying an unstable between point, in which their sex does not match their gender, and the ultimate goal is to make those two things align. In the end, they will go from being one sex to another, and their feeling of being transgender should, ideally, subside once their body conforms to their mind.
My experience is different. I don't mind remaining transgender. I don't have any strong desire to align my sex with my gender. I do identify mentally with the female gender, and though I have very feminine physical qualities, my anatomy is decidedly male. I also spent the majority of my life thinking I was a normal male. But I'm not. The whole thing about being transgender is that you get into this headspace where you want the rest of the world - which thinks only in black and white, where sex and gender are the same thing - to treat you as the sex/gender of your mind (i.e., gender) instead of your body (i.e., sex). So, for example, you have a penis, but you feel more comfortable using the women's restroom.
In the traditional transgender experience, this makes sense, because the goal is to transition, and eventually align your ("incorrect") sex with your ("correct") gender. Until you do, you're a work in progress, but you'd still prefer to associate with the sex/gender you identify with, and not the one you've been mislabeled as all your life. But how does this change for non-op transgender individuals? I acknowledge that my experience is not female, and that I will probably never be 100% female, because I don't desire to change my sexual anatomy. And even if I did, I'd have an experience that most females don't have - growing up male. I'd also lack an experience that most females have - growing up female.
But on the other hand, it's not fair to describe my experience as being typically male, either. I really don't fit neatly into either category, although I feel a strong pressure to conform to one or the other. Which is tough, you know. How do I identify? If I say I'm female, I feel a pang of guilt because I'm giving people the wrong impression of my anatomy, and they might get pissed off (like the cat-callers do, or the hypothetical other woman in the women's restroom) when they find out. It also doesn't do justice to the fact that I'm attracted to females, but I'm not, in all accuracy, a lesbian (although in some ways - mentally and not physically - I feel like one).
But if, on the other hand, I say I'm male, I'm not only misrepresenting my gender presentation (why would I go out of my way to cause confusion by telling the waiter or sales clerk who thinks that pretty customer in the dress is a girl, unless I wanted to sabotage his attempts to hit on me?), I'm doing an injustice to my gender identity as well. I may not be female, but I don't feel male, either. The truth is, I don't honestly feel comfortable identifying fully with either label, except insofar as we're willing to concede that we're talking solely about gender, and not sexual anatomy - which is not the way that most of the world uses these terms.
So, ultimately, I would be perfectly fine labeling myself as transgender, as long as it's understood that this is instead of, and not in addition to the designation of male or female. Yet, it still doesn't make it easy for me to navigate a world that presumes that sex and gender are one and the same, and that for those rare individuals for which this isn't true, they are only going through a temporary transitional stage before all is made right, and everybody's sex and gender line up once again. But I guess that's the price of being different in a world that thrives on conformity...
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Monsters
If your culture tells you that the only way to express a certain sexual desire is through deviant means, where the fetish itself is indistinguishable from its accompanying vices, then it's not hard to imagine a person having an affinity for this desire going through a tentative and troubled process of discovery in which they must question whether it is the vices they are attracted to as much as the fetish itself. Is it not clear, then, that this strategy - entirely apart from discouraging people from adopting this particular fetish (as if people have that choice) - serves to steer those who are "afflicted" with such a desire into those vice-ridden behaviors that have become associated with it? Is the concept of erotic attraction to specific forms of beauty we don't understand so odious that we must sabotage a person's ability to maintain their human decency in the face of the desire to transgress some contemporary taboo, in the process creating more of the vice we condemn?
If it is at all possible to conceptualize a deviant fetish in a positive light, unmarred by a priori connections with universally condemned behaviors (such as the selfish - as opposed to a mutual - pursuit of pleasure without regard to the consent or well-being of others) - as I have tried to do in the past regarding voyeurism and exhibitionism - even though the deviant's desires may be problematic, would this not be preferable to driving the fetishist into a psychological corner, in which they must choose between ultimately resolving their cognitive dissonance through an internal acceptance of the antisocial tendencies associated with the fetish ("if fetishists are bad, and I have this fetish, then I may as well join the dark side"), and leading a mental life on the knife's edge between flying straight, and giving in during a moment of weakness to the never-ending darkness and self-loathing of a lifetime of denying one of mankind's most basic needs?
Simply put, does nature create monsters, or do we create them ourselves, materializing from our paranoid anxieties as if from a self-fulfilling prophecy?
If it is at all possible to conceptualize a deviant fetish in a positive light, unmarred by a priori connections with universally condemned behaviors (such as the selfish - as opposed to a mutual - pursuit of pleasure without regard to the consent or well-being of others) - as I have tried to do in the past regarding voyeurism and exhibitionism - even though the deviant's desires may be problematic, would this not be preferable to driving the fetishist into a psychological corner, in which they must choose between ultimately resolving their cognitive dissonance through an internal acceptance of the antisocial tendencies associated with the fetish ("if fetishists are bad, and I have this fetish, then I may as well join the dark side"), and leading a mental life on the knife's edge between flying straight, and giving in during a moment of weakness to the never-ending darkness and self-loathing of a lifetime of denying one of mankind's most basic needs?
Simply put, does nature create monsters, or do we create them ourselves, materializing from our paranoid anxieties as if from a self-fulfilling prophecy?
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