Solve Sundsbo/Art + CommerceAdvertisement - Continue Reading BelowAre you a woman? Me too! So we know exactly who we are when it comes to sex: It's better if we feel an emotional connection with our partner. We're not crazy about pornography, but if it must be on, we prefer it narrative, softer lit, less violent. We are, relative to men, seductive, submissive, receptive, and monogamous. We get more attached than men do when we have sex. We want to be in trusting and respectful long-term relationships. Let's call ourselves Dutiful Wives.
More From ELLEBut wait—this just in: Journalist Daniel Bergner finds that none of the above is true! We are in fact turned on, he reports, by every contextless pornographic scene imaginable: straight and gay sex, masturbation, copulating apes. We get turned off by the too familiar (husbands…); we need distance and novelty to enjoy sex. Up to 60 percent of us fantasize about being raped by a stranger. We can have clitoral, vaginal, even cervical orgasms. We're wilder and lustier than men, but we've been brainwashed by society to believe we're Dutiful Wives. Let's call ourselves Bonobos instead, after the famously most sex-positive primate species.
Bergner lays out the history of this brainwashing and then debunks it in his entertaining new book, What Do Women Want? (Ecco). He recaps ingenious studies that have plumbed our desires, including those we deny or hide from ourselves.
Another new take on female lust is British academic Katherine Angel's Unmastered: A Book on Desire, Most Difficult to Tell (Farrar, Straus and Giroux)—a more personal journey into the wilds of female sexuality, using literature, politics, and Angel's own experience rather than science as guides. She weaves impressionistic sketches of her ecstatic sexual experiences together with musings on feminism, pornography, and quotes from the likes of Virginia Woolf and Susan Sontag.
Neither book answers the clueless query of Freud's that gives Bergner his title; in fact, neither addresses the inherent absurdity of one answer fitting all 3.5 billion of us. But they do try to expand the sexual territory women occupy in the world, and thus point us toward the questions we need to ask ourselves about sex.
Bergner surveys the history of men writing about women's sexuality. I was shocked to learn of the long-held belief that women couldn't conceive unless they climaxed—a scientific "truth" for 1,500 years that clearly was not vetted by women! Meanwhile, fear of lustful women has been spun out in cautionary tales from the myth of Pandora to whichever halls of power women manage to infiltrate today. In the 1600s, scientists discovered that orgasm was not necessary for reproduction, which only paved the way for a new myth—that of the sexless female (less scary because she can't be disappointed). In the nineteenth century, women thus became purified, the gentle reins on men's animal natures, enduring the indignities of the marriage bed—thinking of England!—to keep civilization up and running.
Bergner points out that though we now laugh at Victorianism, women's supposed monogamous tendencies remain a core assumption about feminine nature via the ruling secular doctrine of evolutionary psychology: that men spread their seed, whereas women seek a lifelong mate to provide for the offspring. This construct is Bergner's main target, and it's about time. I've noticed that evolutionary psychology is especially beloved by men. Their fairly straightforward drives are mirrored in the animal kingdom more than women's are: Unlike our mammalian sisters, we mate regardless of whether we're not in estrus; our lust doesn't aim at procreative sex—we're usually trying not to get pregnant; and intercourse isn't the primary means by which most of us achieve orgasm.
As Bergner points out, evo psych also validates the old double standard: If a guy cheats on his girlfriend or wife, it's in his nature; you can't argue with science, baby. But if she strays, she's an aberrant slut. "Does the fact that women are expected to be the more demure gender in Lusaka and New York, in Kabul and Kandahar and Karachi and Kansas City, prove anything about our erotic hardwiring?" Bergner asks. "Might the shared value placed on female modesty speak less to absolutes of biology than to the world's span of male-dominated cultures and historic suspicion and fear of female sexuality?"
Those excellent questions lead Bergner to studies that swing the needle from Dutiful Wife to Bonobo. The niftiest is researcher Meredith Chivers' measure of women looking at pornographic images with a plethysmograph tucked into their vaginas, a sensor that measures blood flow and wetness. The women watched a range of pornographic clips: straight and gay sex, men and women masturbating, bonobos copulating. As they watched, they typed about what turned them on and what left them cold.
You know where this is going. While their fingers said, "Not really my thing," their nether regions clanged the lust-o-meter's bell like a young stud showing off for his date at a carnival. The only image that didn't win the little ladies a stuffed animal was that of a hunky man sauntering on the beach, erectionless. As another sex researcher, Marta Meana, puts it, "The male without an erection is announcing a lack of arousal. The female body always holds the promise, the suggestion, of sex." The plethysmograph also found that women got more turned on by imagining sexual encounters with strangers than with friends or their romantic partners—even as they typed out their denials.
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