I attended Ron Jeremy’s S&M Sideshow on Jan. 26 at the WOW Hall, and I was disturbed — maybe offended, maybe not — by what I experienced. I decided to write about it because sexual politics is a conversation which has been going on for decades and which never seems to lose its urgency or complexity.
Before I explain my unease, let me say I am an unabashedly pro-pornography, sex-positive queer man. The University has introduced me to the deconstruction of sexual imagery and the often subtle objectification of women, but I don’t buy every word.
I understand these ideas, but I believe Madonna is right; women have the power (even if it’s difficult) to reclaim their sexuality and be in control. Plus, my own sexual habits are not mainstream, and I can enjoy objectification — finding physicality stimulating for its own sake. But I think there is a decided difference between reveling in humanity’s sexual nature and allowing one’s testosterone to become exploitative and demeaning. Unfortunately, the line between those extremes is not always so clear.
The S&M Sideshow had no sadism or masochism, by the way. At best, it was a “sexually-themed sideshow.” There was no nudity. But after the bands played and the customers had some beer, Ron Jeremy took the stage, and the tone of the evening turned a little ugly. Jeremy’s shtick was stupid, if playful. He wove together references to how many women he has had sex with and self-deprecating jokes.
Then Jeremy launched into a stand-up routine of gross jokes about women, men, dogs and paraplegics. The jokes were old and mean-spirited. As he wound down his 15 minutes of work, Jeremy joked about ethnic versions of “foreplay” — “What’s Polish foreplay?”, “What’s Jewish foreplay?”, etc. — the answers to which I will spare you. His final joke was, “And what’s foreplay in Eugene, Oregon? ‘Get in the truck, bitch!’” The last line certainly hit me as encouragement of nonconsensual sex. After he said the punch line, I was deafened by the male roars of “Oh, yeah!”
The crowd at the WOW Hall was decidedly young and male. The atmosphere in the room grew increasingly aroused and almost hostile, much what I imagine a strip club feels like on a busy Friday night. I think I understand slightly more what it means to be a straight female in an overwhelmingly male sexual culture.
The trickier part was the “Banana Eating Contest.” The women participating in this bit were volunteers. No one forced them onstage to simulate fellatio. These women clearly wanted to compete, and they wanted to be sexual. I could examine the reasons these women chose to display themselves, but that’s not my point.
During the “best orgasm sound” part of the banana contest, the men shouted and cheered, most enthusiastically for the contestant who made noises reminiscent of pigs being slaughtered. Was I overboard in thinking they were most excited by the woman who sounded as though she were in serious pain? Maybe I was. Sex, after all, is on that line of pleasure so good it hurts.
Jeremy then asked the women their favorite sexual position. The only one to get booed said she liked to be on top. A few men even cursed at her, with words too impolite for this newspaper. Am I over the line to suggest these macho guys didn’t like their power being usurped? Maybe I am. But it created an unpleasant vibe in the room.
The worst part, for me, was as the women actually fellated the bananas. The noises and words being ejaculated from the depths of the young studs in the audience were truly offensive. Descriptions of what the men would make the women do, grotesque name calling and a beast-like cacophony filled the hall. It was like a sporting event, only the competitors were women and scoring was, well, “scoring.”
I can’t pretend that I wasn’t titillated. Lots of testosterone in one room can do that to people. And I felt the familiar surge of adrenaline at having sexuality displayed openly. But I left the event feeling dirty, and not the good kind of dirty. I felt as though Eugene itself had encouraged males to treat women without respect for the autonomous sexual beings they are.
Writing a column (or hundreds of scholarly texts, for that matter) won’t provide the consciousness-raising necessary to make these horny bucks act differently. Not every man at the show acted boorishly, but the behavior isn’t confined to Eugene. Men across the country feel and act this way toward women. But as a community, do we have to allow shows like Ron Jeremy’s to be performed so publicly — as just another entertainment event — so that we all tacitly put our stamp of approval on the behavior?
As far as I know, no one spoke out against the show happening. No one questioned the glowing preview of the event that ran in the Emerald. After all, in our culture, sex sells. If you’ve read my column to this point, sex is probably part of the reason. And I attended the show, so I’m just as complicit as everyone else. In Eugene, this type of entertainment apparently passes the sensitivity test. Maybe it should. This issue is more complicated than censorship, and I’m sure many people — men and women — enjoyed the show. It was simply silly entertainment, right?
I guess I’m just disappointed that Ron Jeremy is all Eugene can attract and applaud. Where’s Susie Bright? I anxiously await a real, fun sex-positive cabaret show, so that I can see sexuality in public without feeling confused and implicated in the ongoing degradation of women.