Other Journals I Read

It may seem odd that I'm following up a discussion of segregation on the basis of sex with one on pornography, but bear with me: they're not as unrelated as they seem.

Pornography is notoriously difficult to define. There's even a Wikipedia page for the phrase famously used by U.S. Supreme Court Justice Potter Steward to describe hard-core material: "I know it when I see it." Subjective? Definitely. But then, what counts as obscene or purient material has always been subjective. In one society, the sight of a lady's ankles might be titillating; meanwhile, over in Moche Peru, potters were busy making ceramics depicting anal sex, fellatio, and other explicit acts.

What is licentious is closely linked with what is hidden from common view. I recall reading a mystery novel written by an author living in Saudi Arabia, where the male protagonist mentally chides himself for gazing too long at a woman's hands, the only part of her not covered by her burqa. He also overhears conservative imams on the radio railing against women "seducing" men with the mere sound of their voices. When almost everything is hidden away, the few scraps remaining become massively charged with sexual potential.

This means that, believe or not, what's considered pornographic or titillating is a place for worldbuilding! Holly Black made great use of this in her Curse Workers trilogy, a contemporary fantasy where magic requires contact between the bare skin of someone's hand and another person. Because this ability is widespread, gloves are a standard part of the dress code for everybody, a way of signaling that you're safe to be around . . . and at one point in the series, the teenaged protagonist, snooping on his older brother's computer, finds a stash of soft-core porn featuring women tugging their gloves off all sexy-like for the camera. We think nothing of seeing somebody's bare hands, but when they're normally concealed? You bet that would become an erotic sight.

By contrast, that which is routine will carry much less force. We tend to hide female breasts from view enough that even breastfeeding in public can be controversial, but in tropical regions where women traditionally wear nothing on top, it's not a non-stop pornographic show: that's simply normalized. Greece and Rome in antiquity were full of representational dicks -- worn as jewelry, carved on buildings, molded into lamps, used as wind chimes -- but those were to turn away evil, not to get people aroused.

In addition to shaping what is pornographic, your worldbuilding specifics will affect what kind of pornography is available to people. The Moche may have left behind a lot of sexually explicit ceramics, but those would have been elite objects; the average peasant toiling away in his field wouldn't be able to acquire elaborately molded works made by skilled artisans, regardless of their subject matter. For most of history, pornography has largely been the domain of the wealthy.

Some things are ubiquitous. We've had the ability to scratch simple depictions of genitalia into wood, stone, or clay for tens of thousands of years, and boy howdy have people done that! But how often was it done for the purpose of titillation? That, we don't know. It's easier to be certain when we find sexualized graffiti in appropriate contexts, like the walls of brothels in Pompeii. We also have examples of extremely phallic objects going back to the Upper Paleolithic, though the earliest we can be sure of any of these being put to sexual use is ancient Egypt (where we have artwork depicting it in action). Was that use purely recreational, or somehow ritual in nature? Again, we often don't know.

What really makes pornography take off, though, is printing technology. Prior to that, your smut had to be artisanally hand-crafted -- expensive in both labor and resources. The common person could really only afford dirty talk and maybe some crude pictures scratched into a wall. Once you have woodblocks, though, and later on, movable type, it becomes possible to mass-produce both images and text for all kinds of purposes. Of course, early printing was often highly regulated, with governmental censors eager to quash anything that might corrupt public morals. We don't have a great surge of obscene material from the late medieval and early modern periods. As printing became cheaper and more widespread, though, so was born an underground industry in pornography. Later on, audiovisual media did the same thing for sexual performances, allowing them to be enjoyed in privacy rather than only at live shows.

It isn't all about getting people off, though. Some sexual works are created with an eye toward education, e.g. for married couples who needed to learn how to do the deed, and maybe even how to enjoy themselves better along the way. The Kama Sutra is an extremely famous example of this, though it's much broader in focus than its pop-culture image presents; it's more like a forerunner of the entire relationship-advice genre. Meanwhile, Edo-period shunga (erotic pictures) in Japan kept getting regulated not because the shogunate disapproved of salacious art in general, but because the artists kept slipping political commentary into their works!

Regulations have run the gamut. In puritanical eras, the government usually tries to eliminate pornography entirely -- with limited success at best. Such things will still circulate via private networks, especially among the elite, who have the wealth and influence to buy both the material and escape from the consequences of having it. In other times and places, normative heterosexual pornography is fine, but anything considered "deviant," like homosexual acts, faces censorship. Or pornography is permitted, but it has to be packaged in a fashion that marks it out for what it is, e.g. with a plain paper cover in a certain color. Or it's high art if it takes certain forms, like sculpture, but low art and banned if it's available to the masses.

But again, bear in mind: what's considered licentious will be entirely defined by social norms. Thomas Edison made a film in which a man and a woman kissed; some people considered that obscene when it came out in 1896. In 1999, it was judged culturally significant enough to be preserved in the National Film Registry. And whether licentiousness is a priori bad will also be culturally relative: some Hindu temples not only depict sexual acts, but are intended to arouse the viewer, because sexual desire is entirely compatible with religious experience. So from the perspective of a fictional world, it's entirely up to the writer where they set their parameters . . . but how that's received by their real-world audience will be another matter entirely!



(originally posted at Swan Tower: https://is.gd/dP9kgS)

Segueing on from eunuchs and the notion of them guarding harems, let's talk about contexts in which people tend to get separated on the basis of sex. Or gender -- but in the types of contexts were this segregation happens, the concern is often very specifically about bodies, and what they're carrying downstairs. When biological sex and social gender do not align, the dynamics get more complicated, as we're seeing in the present day.

Some kinds of sex segregation are situational, being focused on a specific event. Rites of passage in certain types of society are often focused on initiating boys into the company of men and girls into the company of women; it therefore makes sense that the other group shouldn't be present. Childbirth is another event that may be restricted only to women, with men having their own traditions to perform elsewhere. Even a girls' slumber party may be off-limits to boys, any such intruders being driven away with shrieks of outrage and maybe some thrown pillows. But once that event is over, the space opens up again; the living room where the slumber party was held is not forbidden to men forevermore.

Where the separation is more about the space than a specific event, it's most likely to happen in contexts that are both bodily and communal. Locker rooms and bathing facilities, for example, involve individuals stripping down in the company of other people, so we tend to have separate ones for men and women. The communal part is particularly important here: nobody thinks twice about the fact that toilets at home or on airplanes are all-gender by default, because they're also single-occupancy. It's only when the space is shared that hackles rise over a lack of segregation -- though proponents point out that all-gender communal restrooms tend to be built in a way that offers more privacy to everybody, and that's a good thing.

For many of us, it probably makes sense that anything which involves baring intimate parts of the body should be veiled from the opposite sex, outside special circumstances. But the "bodily" part of the above equation also extends in directions that may be less obvious to my average reader . . . like eating. We think nothing of men and women eating together, even in public! But in other places and times, women have taken their meals separately from men, even within the walls of their own homes -- and a restaurant is right out. Regency England considered it barely acceptable for a woman of quality to dine in a private room at a commercial establishment, especially if she was traveling, but out in public? That was scandalous. (The French, ever risqué, thought it was just fine.)

The other broad category in which segregation may rear its head is religious contexts. Mosques very commonly have separate sections for men and women, for the very practical reason than Muslim prayer involves kneeling and bowing one's head to the ground, which leads to a lot of time with the rear end of the person ahead of you being right in front of your face. In mixed contexts, it's easy to see how this can get socially awkward and may distract people from the religious matters that should be their focus. Orthodox and some Conservative Jewish synagogues likewise maintain separate sections for men and women, again for reasons of modesty and improved attention to God.

Depending on the place in question, this division can be accomplished in a number of ways. The different sections can be marked by anything from segregated doors to a rope to a low wall to a curtain, depending on the degree of privacy required. This may run laterally through the space, so that the women are (usually) behind the men, or it may run axially, placing them side-by-side -- the latter carrying a great symbolic connotation of equality, as it allows both sexes to be equally close to the front. Or the separation may be greater, with women in a balcony (echoed by the Women's Gallery that used to allow English ladies to observe the doings of a wholly masculine Parliament), in a different room, or even in another building entirely, one constructed for their sole use.

Of course, when we think of sex segregation, we think above all of purdah -- using that as a generalized term for the seclusion of women from public view, via clothing, architecture, and behavior, in all contexts rather than only specific ones. On the sartorial end, veils can hide a woman's hair, face, or even eyes from view, while long skirts, long sleeves, and perhaps gloves conceal everything else, depending on the degree of concealment required. On the architectural end, pierced wooden screens serve a dual purpose: environmentally, they permit some air circulation while blocking most light, and socially, they prevent outsiders from easily seeing into the house, where the women are.

In English we tend to equate the word "harem" with a man's collection of wives and concubines, but properly speaking, it's the private part of the house, which by the principle of metonymy came to also indicate the women there. Male outsiders and servants may not enter; even male relatives may be restricted, with only the closest or those under the age of puberty allowed across the threshold. Meanwhile, the women themselves often face restrictions on their ability to leave -- which, in extreme cases (like the wives and concubines of a ruler), might extend as far as prohibiting that entirely.

To be clear, although we associate this with the Muslim world, and perhaps with India, that's not its only context. Noble and royal women in East Asian countries, for example, might only converse with men from behind a screen, because it was improper for them to be viewed directly. Early modern Spanish writings are full of the idea that women should stay within their houses and not go out, only grudgingly allowing for things like church attendance -- indeed, Europe more broadly agreed that women should not be out in public any more than strictly necessary. Where there is patriarchy, there will be a desire to control the visibility, movements, and activities of women.

At least for elite women. Because let's be clear: this kind of segregation is ultimately a luxury, and therefore not equally affordable by all classes. Somebody has to go out for food, water, and other necessities, and that work can't all be done by men, because they're busy with their own jobs. The private seclusion of upper-class women relies on the public activities of slaves or paid servants, many of whom will be female. Meanwhile, households living closer to the poverty line can't afford that kind of help; their women might have to work at agricultural or commercial tasks just to make ends meet. They may still be barred from certain contexts, forbidden to attend the theatre or take a meal in a tavern, and they may be required to observe strict forms of modesty while they're out and about, but they can't be hidden away entirely.

Ultimately, then, while limited and context-dependent forms of sex segregation can be very commonplace, the blanket sort indicated by the term purdah is an expression not only of gender ideology but of economics. It can only occur where there is the wealth to support it, along with the will to enforce it.



(originally posted at Swan Tower: https://is.gd/ZQlmSn)