Author: mangomustard67

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Are Men “Visual Creatures”?: A Discussion on Porn & Bioessentialism

TW//mentions of SA, porn addiction, objectification

One thing that really stood out to me in Throwing Like a Girl is how Iris Marion Young criticizes bioessentialism, which is the idea that men and women behave a certain way because it’s just “biology”. She shows how people explain things like throwing differences as natural, when they’re really learned through social expectations. It is similar to how people perform worse due to the stereotype threat, which is when minority groups tend to underperform on tests because they believe that they are not capable of performing well, leading to a self-fulfilling prophecy. 

I think that same logic of “inherent” or “biological” behaviors can be applied to how men justify watching porn by saying “men are visual creatures”, which is not based in fact at all. That phrase is so harmful because it makes it seem like objectifying women is unavoidable, instead of something that men are choosing to participate in. 

Read more: Are Men “Visual Creatures”?: A Discussion on Porn & Bioessentialism

Porn is extremely dehumanizing because it turns people, often women, into objects meant to be looked at, not individuals with complex life experiences who have their own agency. Young talks about how women are taught to experience their bodies as something to be watched and judged, rather than as something they fully control. Porn takes that even further by reducing women to their body parts and presenting sex as something women exist to provide. It trains people to see women’s bodies as products rather than as a part of an intimate and sacred human interaction.

The idea that porn allows people to “buy” consent is disturbing on its own as well. Consent in porn is always available and detached from real emotional or physical consequences. Sometimes consent can even be depicted as NOT freely given, and disrespected, as part of r*pe fetishes. Humans were never meant to have instant and unlimited access to sex like this, and pretending that it’s just “natural male sexuality” ignores how artificial and extreme this level of access actually is. The harm doesn’t just affect the person consuming porn, it impacts the women in it, who are often exploted, and women in the modern dating world that have to deal with unrealistic expectations and porn-driven violence and entitlement.

Just like Young argues, bioessentialism isn’t harmless. It is used to excuse behavior that causes real harm by making it seem inevitable, and vanishing accountability for those who are engaging in them. Saying “men are visual creatures” works the same way as saying “girls throw like that”. It hides socialization behind biology.

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Solitary Confinement & Anti-Suicide Rooms

TW: sh, suicide

The Strike examines how solitary confinement in California prisons strips people of basic humanity by removing stimulation, color, sound, and, most importantly, meaningful connection. The documentary shows how incarcerated men organized a hunger strike after years, and sometimes decades, of being trapped in small, bare cells where even a moment of conversation became a form of survival. Many describe how isolation pushed them deeper into despair rather than keeping them “safe,” and how the lack of basic human rights made their mental state deteriorate.

Read more: Solitary Confinement & Anti-Suicide Rooms

While watching The Strike, I was struck by how closely some of those experiences mirrored something I went through this past September. I was placed in an anti-suicide room for six hours completely empty, colorless, and silent. There was no stimulation, no clock, no comfort item, nothing grounding at all. I remember crying and begging the nurses just to talk to me for even a few seconds, and no one responded. I had to use a makeshift toilet, and the combination of isolation and humiliation ended up making me feel worse, not safer. Similar to what people in the documentary describe, my thoughts spiraled in that environment, and I began thinking of ways I could harm myself using the room around me.

The documentary helped me understand that what I felt was not “overreacting”. It was a human reaction to a dehumanizing environment. No one should have to die in order to have basic human rights, and it’s appalling that someone did in order for the government to take the incarcerated people seriously.

Femininity, Fluidity, & Faloodas
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Femininity, Fluidity, & Faloodas

Being born female has always felt like a curse to me. Although I do love presenting femininely, girlhood, and feminism, femininity always felt like an objective that I could never, ever reach. Growing up, I was surrounded by ideals of what a “real woman” should look like and act like, but none of them ever felt like me.

Read more: Femininity, Fluidity, & Faloodas

Too often, women & afab people of color, specifically black and brown people, are hyper masculinized by society. Many of us experience gender dysphoria at a young age without even realizing it. In a porn-sick, pedophilic world, we are often told to shave our legs or that we won’t be desirable if we are not petite. We are groomed into believing that compliance with these unrealistic and patriarchal beauty standards is the only way we can be loved or accepted.

This alienation often made me feel like I was a monster, much like how Stryker compares the trans body to Frankenstein’s monster, where both are labeled as “unnatural” creations rejected by society. Even the most natural and feminine part of myself, body hair, was turned into something to be erased. Body hair, a normal sign of maturity, was made to seem masculine, ugly, and unnatural. That made me feel both “not feminine enough” and “not masculine enough,” even as I came to understand myself as genderfluid. I found myself trapped between two conflicting thoughts: one that punished me for lacking male traits, and another that shamed me for not performing femininity “correctly.”

These beauty standards also erase intersectionality, especially when it comes to South Asian bodies. Generations of colonial trauma, famine, and labor have shaped our bodies in ways that defy Eurocentric ideals. Yet we are still told that our features, our curves, our body hair, and our skin are flaws to be fixed. Our oppressors wound us and then teach us to hate the scars it leaves behind.

For me, reclaiming my gender and my body means rejecting those expectations. Like Stryker’s “transgender rage”, I’ve learned that my frustration can become powerful, where I refuse to be molded by standards that were never made for me. My gender exists in the space between what I was told to be and what I choose to become.

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When My Body Wasn’t My Own

TW: mentions of SA, dissociation

Growing up in a conservative household, I was constantly told to cover up because of men’s “wandering eyes”. I was taught that if I were to be sexually assaulted, it would have been my fault, instead of the person who sexually assaulted me. Out of fear, I obliged, wearing modest clothes throughout my childhood, convinced that I could never be safe. My mother also told me to speak properly, to never talk back to elders or men, and to hold my tounge if I was uncomfortable. In Throwing Like a Girl, Iris Marion Young describes how women move with “inhibited intentionality”, we know we can act, but we feel like we shouldn’t. That was my childhood: constantly silencing and covering myself to make myself more palatable for men. These habits became ingrained in me, because for so long, they were all I knew to do.

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