Anthropologist Gayle Rubin unpacked in her 1984 essay Thinking Sex: Notes for a Radical Theory of the Politics of Sexuality how heteronormative scripts developed in the 20th century were written to divide society into ‘normal’ and ‘abnormal’, based on sexual behaviour. Add whiteness, misogyny, and ableism and you’ll see how these effectively permeate the former to further marginalize the latter.
If you’re straight, married, monogamous, and engage in only vanilla sex for love and procreation, you’ll benefit from much of Western society’s frameworks. Congrats, you’re in what Rubin calls the Charmed Circle. Better stay there or you’ll be on the outs. But if you have either no interest or no ability to engage in such revered pursuits, you fall into the Outer Limits. Here is where you’ll find those who engage in sex for pleasure or payment, with multiple partners, and/or use toys, kink, or porn. Throw in a few more deviancies, and your BINGO card will be full.
Rubin goes on to describe how failing to remain fully in the Circle will create the ever feared slippery slope of deviancy with her ‘domino theory of sexual peril.’ Hopscotching through the Outer Limits until every section has been visited will eventually lead to absolute chaos, a world where puritanism and high moral ground are obliterated by <checks notes> too many people enjoying sex.
I’ve been trouncing around the Outer Limits like it’s a playground with an ice cream truck and a cocktail bar since I was young, when I figured out that I like erotic pleasure. This, despite people, media, and school telling me that was reserved for only a respectable few. Especially scathing was the first time the word slut was tossed at me by a guy who had cheated on his girlfriend to get to me. Somehow, I was the evil one. Well, when in Rome.
Easton and Hardy define a slut as “a person of any gender who has the courage to lead life according to the radical proposition that sex is nice and pleasure is good for you.” - The Ethical Slut, 1997
When I first read Easton’s and Hardy’s words, something just clicked. And the older I got, the more I realized that being in the Outer Limits is waaaaaay more interesting than conforming to scripts that weren’t written by me, so I rejoice in writing my own. The Outer Limits aren’t constructed; they’re just what’s waiting for you when you depart the Circle. There’s a particular freedom to that.
When you’ve got your own scripts, you’re only accountable to yourself. Failures are all yours, but so are the successes, which – when they measure up to your own values – are pretty delicious. For me, the peril comes from the rigid expectation of conforming to the impossible or unwanted, and the misery and dissonance that result when our minds or bodies lure us in other directions.
When I started giving myself more permission to fuck around and find out, and developed the skills to take responsibility for my actions (and happily so, not just begrudgingly), the Outer Limits started looking less like the city dump and more like a communal garden. Look, I get it; I know that some people thrive in conformity, or and/or desire to abide by particular constraints (eg, religious identity being a significant part of life for many). But I believe that being your best self creates space to be your best for others, be it your partner, your family, or your god.
So have all the sex you want, with whom you want, how you want, when you want. Or don’t have sex at all (here’s where I’d add another neighbourhood to the Outer Limits: one where nary a sexual activity is to be found, because there are enough people out there who have a reduced interest in, or don’t want any sex at all). Any, all, or none is just fine.
Relish in the unknown, the uncharted, the taboo, and the impure. Colour outside the lines. Thrive in the Outer Limits.