Debate | Issue Six | Sex

Trigger Warning: Before you turn the page, note this is the sex issue, there will be discussions on themes such as Sex, Sexual Assault, Consent, Bondage, Pornography, Sexual Health, Sexuality, Erotica, & Reproductive Health.

Grew Up In A Religious Household, Down & Dirty: Reviewing Porn (For The Plot)

Gaslight Gabbie: Not Getting Laid? That’s OK! You’re Still Hot! How 2 Have Sex (in a cost-of-living- crisis) On Queer Representation: Contemporary Media & How Far We’ve Come Side Sex: What It Is & Why Straight People Are Missing Out Women, Woes, & Weezer Mini What’s On ‘You Know I Can't Grab Your

COVER Tashi Donnelly (@tashi_rd)

CENTREFOLD Chloe Bagayas (@lilclodoodles)

BACK COVER Younsoo (Chloe) Kim (@ysksince0522)

CONTRIBUTORS

Khan,

Kumar, Maia Carr Heke, Yue, Lucas van Schaardenburg, Lily Chen, Sara McKoy, Issy Mason, Scarlett, William Lyall, Sahana Vijayaraghavan, Paris Lloyd-Beere

Please, Do Not Fuck This Issue

Kia ora e te whanau - haere mai and welcome to our sex issue! This magazine contains all sorts of important kōrero about sexuality, pornography, Weezer, and more - and we hope you can find something in it that can resonate with you. Since we wanted this editorial to do the topic justice (and I’m aware that my parents will be reading this), I’ve handed this issue’s editorial over to our features editor, Tashi. Good luck for the exam grind and assignment struggle, gang - we’ll see you back in print after the break <3 - Liam

Sex is an incredibly vast and nuanced topic to write about. It’s something we should celebrate, discuss, study, and become more comfortable with as a society. For most of us, it’s responsible for our existence in the world (even though no one wants to think about their parents getting it on). Sex is vulnerableit feels personal and private, even though so many of us are engaging with it in some way or other from puberty onwards. It’s a fascinating subject, whether you’re having partnered sex, solo sex, or not interested in sex at all. There are infinite ways to talk about the topic of sex, a fraction of which we have curated here, for your reading pleasure, in our humble magazine.

Because the subject of sex is an autistic hyper-fixation of mine, reading pitches and submissions for this issue has been captivating. Embarrassingly enough, I’m that one friend who pulls the conversation into filth (non-derogatory) any chance I get. Our poor editor has been subjected to this, especially after they tried to worm their way out of doing a sex issue for this year (my sincerest apologies, Liam). As much as I want to gush over how beautiful and important sex is for social creatures like us humans, it’s clear we as a society are still fumbling over the complexities of it. There is a lack of investigation, representation, and education about sex and consent that harms us all. Reflected in many of these pieces is a desire to illuminate the broken elements of how we treat and engage with sex as a society. Things need fixing, and one of the ways to start is by sharing our stories. Some of these stories are hard to read, and there will be trigger warnings on some articles.

Ideally, sex is an exploration of pleasure, one that can bring you closer to yourself and your body. There are as many ways to engage as there are colours in the rainbow - every encounter is unique and special. Solo sex is as important as partnered sex, and no less valid an exploration. Asexuality is equally important to the wider discussion of sex. I say this because we must remember these things while embarking on hard conversations. The intimate nature of sex leaves us

vulnerable, so take your time while absorbing this material, dear reader. My hope is that you will find a piece of your own experience reflected back at you, and feel less alone. We can laugh and cry together, we can throw conservative notions of secrecy out the window and we can discuss the very real, very human activity of sex.

Finally, according to tradition, here are some of my favourite horny songs for your listening pleasure:

And some thoroughly unsexy sad folk songs from Liam, just to balance things out:

Written by Tashi Donnelly (she/her)

@tashi_rd | Features Editor

Foreword by Liam Hansen (they/them) @liamhanse.n | Editor-in-Chief

From Campus to Parliament, Abortion Debates Are Still Relevant

This story began when I noticed pro-life ads in the bathrooms at the Queen Street Event Cinema, a short walk away from the AUT City Campus. The ads were subtle, and aimed at women scared and unsure about being pregnant. They did not come from an official organisation, like Sexual Wellbeing Aotearoa (Family Planning), but from Gianna’s Choice - a group I quickly learnt was a branch of Family Life International. Their website describes the branch’s aim as to reach “abortion vulnerable New Zealand women” and promotes prayers for “abortion vulnerable” foetuses. They are firmly against abortion being treated as healthcare.

It is not Debate’s place to determine if pro-life groups are inherently bad. However, Gianna’s Choice exists in a world where Christian lobby groups, not unlike Family Life International, have successfully overturned abortion decriminalisation. It is that which should be challenged. This notably includes 16 American States and territories that have implemented rigid near-total abortion bans following the overturning of Roe v Wade. It also includes a growing number of states that are removing the ability to get an abortion from 12 weeks, or even 6 weeks - at which point many people wouldn’t realise they are pregnant.

Aotearoa student Coco Dixon (Ngāti Porou) became involved in prochoice activism after the overturning of Roe v Wade. She said realising she was “living in a world that was largely dictated by the decisions of men” pushed them to start organising. They believe the overturning of Roe v Wade has a connection to Aotearoa, where “decriminalisation [of abortion] was still so fresh and is still something that can be taken back as easily as it was in the US.”

Prime Minister Christopher Luxon has sparked headlines for his religious beliefs, especially being pro-life in a country that is largely pro-choice. However, he told Q&A that if any changes to abortion legislation were made then he would resign as prime minister. Dixon doesn’t believe it, telling Debate “He’s vocally pro-life. There’s nothing much to stop him from changing the law if he really wanted to.”

Pro-life views in the National Party are not limited to the prime minister. Simeon Brown, amongst 19 of the 55 National MPs at the time, voted against the 2020 Abortion Law Reform. He said in his speech, “I do believe that all lives matter. Old or young, male or female, black or white, born or unborn.” The law change allowed unrestricted abortion for up to 20 weeks and repealed sections of the 1961 Crimes Act pertaining to abortion. When the United States Supreme Court repealed the Roe v Wade decision, allowing states to criminalise abortion, National MP at the time Simon O’Connor posted “Today is a good day.” The post was liked by Brown.

The abortion debate will be familiar to AUT students. In 2019, students petitioned to ban the campus ProLife group after the student association voted to affiliate them. AUTSA defended the decision at the time, stating, “There are students from many different backgrounds at AUT. Many of them will hold pro-life views. If AUTSA wishes to faithfully represent all its members it should avoid discriminating against those who reasonably hold to minority viewpoints.” Student Lily Evans, who started the petition, said freedom of speech was important but the pro-life club was “impinging on a basic fundamental human right: the autonomy of one’s own body, which is possibly more important than the right to freedom of speech.”

Simeon Brown’s legacy in student politics remains today, carrying across both UoA and AUT. AUT’s ProLife campus group posted on Facebook as recently as late last year in support of a pro-life protest.

Campus Feminist Collective’s Lily Chen has been vocal against these prolife groups. She told Debate, “Student-led pro-life clubs at university campaign on the singular issue of controlling bodily autonomy. Masquerading as protectors of the unborn, these so-called activists utilise manipulative tactics to attack the autonomy of those with the capacity to get pregnant, and consequently, curb reproductive justice.”

Sexual Wellbeing Aotearoa’s Kirsty Walsh told Debate pro-life lobby groups remain an issue that “hasn’t gone away.” A key next step in abortion access is maintaining safe access to abortion providers, including by stopping protestors from accessing spaces surrounding providers. Walsh stated, “Sexual Wellbeing Aotearoa was a strong supporting voice for The Contraception, Sterilisation and Abortion (Safe Areas) Amendment Act 2022, which came into force on 19 March 2022. Safe Areas aim to protect the safety, wellbeing, privacy and dignity of people who are accessing or providing abortion services. Attempting to stop a person from accessing or providing these services are prohibited within a Safe Area. A Safe Area can cover up to 150 metres around any premises where abortion services are provided. For example, a hospital or a general practice.”

As Coco Dixon highlighted, the debates we have on campuses remain relevant when abortion law could be overturned as easily and quickly as we saw in the United States. She says students “have a right to be afraid” and she encouraged students to sign petitions, attend marches, and use their voices. They ended our interview by stating “Doing a little bit is enough.”

[Coco Dixon pictured with other organisers at a 2022 pro-choice rally. Photo: Supplied]

Simeon Brown has been a pro-life activist since university. When AUSA affiliated the pro-life club ‘ProLife Auckland’ in 2010, Brown called it a “victory for common sense and freedom of expression more than anything, as well as an acknowledgement that pro-life is a valid perspective.” He was the club’s president.

Written By Caeden Tipler (they/them) @caedentipler | NEWS EDITOR

“Sex and Respect” in Universities: Reporting SA to AUT

News Editor’s Preface: The following article is a direct account of one person’s experience reporting sexual assault to AUT. This piece is not meant to be objective, but shows how the process can be re-traumatising for victims from the perspective of one. In 2021, 237 people reported being sexually assaulted at an education facility in Aotearoa. This issue is one where much more progress is needed. Content warning for mentions of sexual assault.

Consent shouldn’t be that hard of a topic to understand but apparently, it’s a big issue people just don’t seem to get. Consent is not a one-time thing - it is a two-way street. If you are not asking your partner if they are okay throughout sex/kissing/anything ever then I think a class is needed.

The curriculum at high schools is partly to blame. The most memorable moment of my public high school sex education (the big west Auckland one with the black and white uniform) in 2014 was when they gave us leaflets that said “Being gay is a choice”. Even though it has hopefully gotten better since then, consent education is still a huge problem that needs addressing.

At my last high school, we had a compulsory content class called Sex and Respect in Year 13. They basically told us to always go with “it’s a no if it’s not an enthusiastic yes.” To this day I think “got to listen for that enthusiastic yes” before any sort of sexual encounter I have. However this level of consent education is not at every school, and the current government has no plans to change this.

I’ve faced my own nasty reality trying to find justice in a world where real people face the consequences of a lack of consent education.

I've been in and out of touch with AUT regarding a case of sexual harm involving me and another student. After sending them an email going into all the details about the trauma that went on, I got an email saying I did not have sufficient evidence for them to go forward because I didn’t have a security camera in my room when I got sexually assaulted.

Written By Anonymous

Is AUT really the supportive place we all once thought it was? Why do the lines get so blurred in cases like this? I went to AUT about this because I thought it would be easier than going to the police since this is about a current student.

I understand that all students have the right to a voice, but I think cases of sexual assault should be addressed differently to other student issues. Why is my sexual assault case being handled the same way a complaint of someone not doing adequate work on a group project would be?

Why is my sexual assault case being handled the same way a complaint of someone not doing adequate work on a group project would be?

I’ve essentially been told my right to feel safe on campus means nothing because I don’t have enough evidence. But how many sexual violence cases get shot down due to lack of evidence? Too many.

I thought since AUT is seen as a progressive university it would be more understanding, but it seems I'm just another statistic of a girl wronged by the system, and it sucks.

This is not the first time this has happened and surely won’t be the last. How are people ever going to be held accountable for their actions if AUT won’t address the serious lack of support for sexual assault?

Why should people like me be fearful of getting on a train in case another person might be on it? When will it end? I feel let down by the system. And knowing this isn’t the last time a student will be in this situation has me considering if AUT truly is for the students.

I really just hope the system does get better and that other students do not find themselves in the same position as me and actually do find their peace.

BUT THEY WOULD KILL YOU IN THE MIDDLE EAST

The conversation between people involved in the modern sexual liberation movements and people of Arabic and Middle Eastern countries is disheartening at most. Despite the quite blatant prejudice in both communities, there is a bridge between them that not many care to discuss nor acknowledge - especially in Aotearoa.

Here is a translation of a quote from the Quran: “...their Lord responded to them, ‘Never will I allow to be lost the work of [any] worker among you, whether male or female; you are of another. So those who emigrated or were emigrated or were evicted from their homes or were harmed in My cause or fought or were killed - I will surely remove from them their misdeeds, and I will surely admit them to gardens beneath which rivers flow as reward from Allah, and Allah has with Him the best reward.’” [Surah, Ali Imran. 193.] Passages like these appear throughout the Quran. Many of them highlight an eventual mutual and equal understanding of the rights of both men and women.

The discussion of female liberation and Islam is usually people of non-Muslim faith speaking on behalf of Muslim women, and never lending them the chance to speak for themselves. One may be quick to argue that the Quran adheres to oppressive patriarchy; however this is not necessarily the case. One journal article written by Ndeye Adujar, writes on several female Muslim scholars in regards to their stances on the holy text, “…Beyond these differences in labelling (which are, in fact, strategic), such Muslim women scholars are unified by their conviction that the Qur’an does not defend patriarchy, as well as that discriminatory laws against women must be changed (as laws created by men, not of divine inspiration).” One must also provide the context that texts in the Bible have referred to quite outdated laws pertaining to women; for instance, “1 Timothy 2:12 - “I do not permit a woman to teach or to exercise authority over a man; rather, she is to remain quiet.”

It is not just the sexual liberation of women, but also queer people where this applies. It’s easy to presume that the Middle East’s relationship with the concern of queer sexuality is mainly based on an attack on the sexual liberation of the queer community. However, the relationship is a bit more nuanced and complex, and it’s not impossible to understand its relationship altogether.

People talk about the relationship between queer sexuality and the Middle East by examining it through a non-modern lens; it should also be important to note how modern populations of those practising Islamic Faith in other countries perceives queerness. According to one set of data from the Human Rights Campaign website, “more than half (52%) of American Muslims agreed that society should approve of homosexuality.” This particular data contradicts the notion that all Muslims living in

other countries are inherently homophobic.

On the other hand, a lot of media outlets seem to ignore that homosexual activity was at one point decriminalised in the West Bank due to Jordanian ruling of the region. On the other hand, “same-sex sexual activity is prohibited in Gaza under the British Mandate Criminal Code Ordinance 1936. The relevant provision carries a maximum penalty of ten years’ imprisonment. Only men are criminalized under this law.” That, in itself, is a British implemented law.

It was stated in one article published in the Jerusalem Post several years ago, that homophobic incidents in Israel had increased by at least 26% by 2017; it contradicts a lot of the claims of Israel being the haven for gay people in the Middle East. As of the 23rd of April, at least more than “34,000 Palestinians have been killed; 72% of those killed were women and children.” Some of those women would be queer women as well.

Ultimately, we must choose to speak of and for the liberation of minorities living in the Middle East. In this country, we are at least given some privileges to thrive; others in their situation barely struggle to survive in the face of persecution. Our liberated sexualities, in and by itself, are not always going to be revolutionary alone; rather, it is through the act of relating the liberation of one’s sex and body through its potential to cross the boundaries, whether social, political or religious, that has bound your bodies and sex in the first place. That gives such liberation its potential. What is not revolutionary, however, is silence. You must show those in the Middle East that you care for their revolution as well.

Written By Vish Kumar (he/him) CONTRIBUTING WRITER

Personal: @theevishkumar Zine Work: @the.kun.manifesto

An Open Book: The Novel with PARK

It’s a sun-drenched afternoon in Grey Lynn. I enter Loop Recording Studios and am greeted warmly by PARK RD (@parkrdmusic). Despite the taxing day of press they’ve endured, Tom Chamberlain, Leo Crawshaw-Bond, and Carlos Martin are surprisingly chipper.

Tom is the frontman, Leo strums the guitar, and Carlos plays the bass. The remaining two bandmates, Angus Hampton-Carr, the lead guitarist, and Te Kapua Pene, who is behind the drums, were unable to attend the interview.

The interview begins on the studio balcony. The insistent humming of car engines stuck in afternoon traffic means we have to relocate to the garage of the studio, where cardboard boxes and vinyl records are splayed out in the room.

PARK RD hails from the west of Tāmaki Makaurau, Titirangi. The band formed in high school to socialise and “get out and see more,” Tom says. They would meet for band practice at Tom’s home, who lived on Park Road. This seminal location was the inspiration for the band’s name.

Carlos was the last to join the band. Originally PARK RD had a different bassist, who got too stoned and wouldn’t show up to practice. Leo jokes that they now have Carlos, who will show up to practice and get “stoned less frequently.”

Their journey as a band started with fundraising gigs to support Tom’s brother, who was heading to Thailand to work at a refugee camp. Kicking off with just one gig a year the band grew their way to performing 35 shows in a year. They wanted their music to go beyond Titirangi and its surrounding suburbs. Leo reflects on those early shows, “It’s good doing shit gigs. You have to do shit gigs. They made us who we are.”

Leo reflects on those early shows, “It’s good doing shit gigs. You have to do shit gigs. They made us who we are.”

Their recent shows have been a significant upgrade from their humble beginnings of playing at “shit gigs.” Playing at Wellington’s Homegrown festival and opening for Milky Chance at the Powerstation, PARK RD has kicked off with notable momentum ahead of their debut album release.

Tom explains the album’s anecdotal title, The Novel. He was songwriting for the album and composed the lyrics, “I feel like I’m out of a novel where I get the girl and we get to cause some trouble.” Tom then turned to the band, who entertained the album title The Novel due to its similarity to their previous project, Stupid Stories

Induced by periods of listening sessions to Pinegrove, Alex G and The 1975, the band steered in a more melancholic direction due to their

“sad boy eras.” This sonic direction is a divergence from their usual upbeat, mellow sound.

The emotive steer in their music is likely a result of some ennui the band was experiencing during the creative process of The Novel. Tom admits that he fell into an unanticipated slump. “I was walking back to the studio and I had this moment…there are parts where you’re fucking stoked for the music and then parts where you get into little ruts.”

The emotive steer in their music is likely a result of some ennui the band was experiencing during the creative process of The Novel.

A memorable song on the album for Tom is “Asleep:Awake”, which was written during the devastating floods in Tāmaki Makaurau. “I wrote [“Asleep:Awake”] thinking, oh, this one’s just for me. But I ended up showing it to a few people, and then we ended up putting on the album. It’s a special song for me.”

“Asleep:Awake” is a track that offers a slower tempo than the rest of the album. Its lyrics are poignant: “I romanticise until I feel nothing… maybe I should just learn how to be more awake.” The song serves as both a confession and a self-critique, delving into the lead singer’s innermost fears. Tom grapples with the desire to improve while feeling uncertain about how to achieve that.

The song serves as both a confession and a self-critique, delving into the lead singer’s innermost fears. Tom grapples with the desire to improve while feeling uncertain about how to achieve that.

In contrast to Tom’s favourite song from The Novel, Carlos’s preference is the more upbeat “Every Night”, “I think that was the one song where we got everything right. There’s nothing in that where I feel we could have done that better.” Leo expresses his fondness for the title track, The Novel. “It’s probably my proudest production in the album. I’m pretty proud of the soundscape that I made.”

With the varied aesthetics and influences that make up PARK RD, from the outside, they seem like an unlikely team.

Tom, who sports a dangling earring, towers in height above his band members, yet he’s the most soft-spoken. Leo has a pixie cut and fiery red hair. He’s restless, continuously bouncing his leg. Carlos has to put his hand on Leo’s knee numerous times, a gentle reminder for him to stop fidgeting. The bassist, who’s wearing a band tee and silver chain allows Tom and Leo to lead the interview, but he often finishes off their sentences.

Leo says his most listened-to genre is hip-hop, “I like hip-hop a lot.

The PARK RD

That’s probably my most listened-to genre along with alternative rock.” Tom’s musical taste leans towards pop, having recently gone through a phase of listening to Gracie Abrams, along with classics from Bruce Springsteen. Rock and metal is Carlos’s “cup of tea,” but after looking through his 2023 Spotify Wrapped, we both laugh over the embarrassment of having Drake as one of our most-streamed artists.

Editor’s note: This piece was written pre Drake and Kendrick Lamar’s diss tracks, so it makes this omission all the more embarrassing.

There were days when the band hardly stepped out of the recording studio when working on The Novel. “We kind of went crazy with it. We would stay until three in the morning,” Leo says. “And we arrived there at ten in the morning,” Carlos adds. This all-consuming creative practice meant that in the final stages of production of The Novel, exhaustion and feelings of imposter syndrome crept up on PARK RD.

Leo states that: “towards the end, we went, what does this even sound like anymore? Is this song finished? Do we even sound good? Is this even going to be in the album? Does this even need to be in the album?”

Leo states that: “towards the end, we went, what does this even sound like anymore? Is this song finished? Do we even sound good? Is this even going to be in the album? Does this even need to be in the album?”

Their second single of 2023, “Secrets”, was a punchy indie-pop song that served as an exciting glimpse into the upcoming album. When discussing the track, I asked PARK RD if they had any secrets they were willing to share.

They confess that during the production of The Novel, they drew inspiration from MGMT and ABBA. The band were listening to a podcast that explained how the hit song “Time to Pretend” by MGMT used the same tempo as “Dancing Queen” by ABBA. “They both used 101 beats per minute, and then because we listen to that podcast, we use the same tempo as that song,” Leo elaborates.

When asked about places that inspired him during songwriting, Tom looks back on sharing a flat with Leo in Mount Eden. He recollects going on nighttime strolls through those suburbs, “there was a certain energy of the urban environment, with this old abandoned uni which I’d always walked through and with these cool lights.” Those starlit streets were “a little playground for lots of the ideas in the album to come to life… It was this little world that I would run away to.”

The Novel signifies the evolution of PARK RD, it’s a showcase of their maturity. They speak to their growing legion of fans by delving into themes of anxiety, ambition and of course, love.

Stay tuned for more heartfelt tales from PARK RD.

PARK RD’s highly anticipated debut album The Novel is set to drop on May 31st. You can listen to it on all major streaming platforms.

Written by Nabeelah Khan (She/her)

Written By Tashi Donnelly (she/her) @tashi_rd | FEATURES EDITOR

Consent is the most important element concerning sex. Since the start of the Me Too movement, it has started a global conversation. The importance of consent can’t be overemphasised. It doesn’t matter what kind of sex you’re having, whether it’s side-play, vanilla, or five-hour-long BDSM sessions, your partner’s consent is everything. In my life, I’ve struggled with the subtler aspects of consent. I learned from an early age to prioritise the needs and expectations of others over my own, often at the expense of my well-being. This pattern extended into my sexual experiences, where the desire for acceptance overshadowed my own needs. In the last few years, I’ve attempted an open, honest internal dialogue.

When the girlies and I get together over a cheese board and multiple bottles of McGuigan’s Black Label Red, there isn’t a lot we don’t talk about. Apologies to anyone sleeping with one of us, we don’t know the meaning of secrets. A major topic for a gathering of the girlies is one of us getting our socks rocked by a new squeeze. I love these raw and honest conversations, full of filthy details.

“And after he spread my legs he whispered “good girl” in my ear, and shoved it in!”

“Girl, stop it! Did you like that?”

“You know I didn’t think I would, but I definitely do now!”

These are some of my favourite conversations to have with any friend. But there is a troubling theme that pops up frequently: regret. We’re all sex-positive feminists, we preach consent, we’re nonjudgmental and respect the wide range of sexual expressions and identities, and we would never put up with sexual coercion. But there is an almost hidden, internal form of consent that is more complicated than the ‘enthusiastic consent’ model. I know “no means no” but I haven’t been taught how to say “no”.

Along with being AFAB (assigned female at birth), I was also landed with Autism and ADHD at birth, though only assigned in my early 20s. I couldn’t always understand why arbitrary social rules were causing breakdowns in my ability to communicate with my peers, so I resorted to manually learning those rules. I wanted to become someone who was ‘quirky’, but quiet, polite, and agreeable.

Society was explicit about what it wanted from women, and that was service. It was also clear about what it wanted from Autistic and ADHD people, and that was for them to be less themselves. “Masking” is a term used to describe how neurodiverse people hide parts of themselves to meet societal expectations of functionality. This takes the form of mirroring neurotypical behaviour, making eye contact, trying to smile when appropriate, or memorising scripts for social interactions, etc. I’ve already had an incredibly hard, and unfinished, journey with accepting my neurodivergence and attempting to “unmask”. Neurodivergence affecting my relationship with sex wasn’t something I’d considered until recently.

Growing up, I was taught it was rude to say “no”. I got constant messaging from society that to be polite and likeable, I had to be available to service those around me. Even before puberty, I experienced gendered messaging. I was expected to help other kids with their work or share my toys, even if I didn’t want to. My outbursts or tantrums were criticised more severely

than those of my male peers. I often felt I had to agree to social interactions or activities that gave me sensory overload, for fear of being perceived as boring. My shyness gets branded as ‘stuck-up bitchiness’. As I grew up, the worst-case scenario of this ingrained messaging resulted in me agreeing to sex because that’s what was expected.

After my last long-term relationship ended, I excitedly entered my Slut Phase. But after 18 months of finding myself in these regrettable situations, I felt like giving up. None of my sexual partners were awful, every person I slept with was courteous, kind, and always asked for verbal consent either before or during the sex. But I wasn’t asking myself for consent.

The internal calculations of social interactions dictated that my own needs were secondary to those of my sexual partner. The question, “Would you like to try doggy-style?”, didn’t lead me to ask myself if I wanted to, it led my inner dialogue to speculate: They asked if I want to do doggy-style = they want to do doggy-style = if I say yes to doggy-style right now they will have had a positive experience with me = they will approve of me and I will feel accepted. Acceptance felt like everything to me, for my womanhood, and for my neurodivergence to be perceived as innocuous.

This complicated internal dialogue becomes even more confusing when I’ve agreed to sex I haven’t entirely wanted but end up enjoying once it’s happening. There are physiological differences between people with penises and people with vaginas that affect arousal, and how quickly arousal can occur. It can take a long time for my body to respond to what my mind wants, and vice versa. This often makes me feel guilty for even thinking about not wanting to in the first place. This all adds to the intricacy of my internal dialogue.

After that 18-month Slut Phase, I did quit sex, despite it being one of my favourite activities. Not all of my sexual encounters were tainted with regret, but enough of them were for me to reevaluate what the fuck I was doing. A wise friend, who has many similar tales to mine, told me “it feels like self-harm” to enthusiastically consent outwardly but not inwardly.

I needed strategies for checking in with myself and being vocal about my desires, or lack of them. I recognised it was unfair to myself and my sexual partners, who deserve honesty and respect. If the nuance of consent was readily taught and talked about, I wouldn’t have spent over a decade feeling like I was always failing at some aspect of consent.

My journey to understanding consent wasn’t as straightforward as I would’ve liked it to be. As a society, we must start having more nuanced conversations about the grey areas of consent. I’ve talked to so many people who share my experience of societal expectations shaping their relationship with consent and sex. Grappling with neurodivergence, gender roles, or sexual orientation adds another layer of complexity. I’m grateful to all the people who have shared similar personal struggles with me, and I hope by sharing my own I can help make others feel less alone, and able to start their own journey with self-consent.

There’s Shit in My Vagina

There’s shit in myvagina.

Sometimes I put myfingers down there, drawthem backto my nose and sniff, justto make sure myvagina doesn’t smell too bad forthe next man I will stop wanting to have sex with halfwaythrough butwill continue to have sexwith anyway.

Why do I care how it smells, tastes? Why do I botherwanting to taste OK for someone that will bruise me without asking, and keep going regardless of whether I tell him it hurts?

No matterthe answer, I check anyway, the stench of desperation for approval lingering on myfingers alongside the smell of myvagina. It never smells that bad, but how am I to know whatthe next normal condition of a vagina is no longertolerable? What if I am just used to its putridity, riddled with disease yet asymptomatic? What if that next guywho splits my hesitant hips apartwhile I grimace atthe ceiling and goes to lick me comes right back up and pulls a face?

What if he is angry? He might not have noticed my enthusiasm faltering, but he’ll notice my shittyvagina. And what if he licks me anyway, licks me through all our shared pain, all because I didn’ttrust him enough to tell him I don’t even like oral?

What if I wiped wrong? What if I got literal, actual shit in my vagina? A rectovaginal fistula? Whatwould even happen if my shitfestered there unnoticed before my next shower? Why would it even matter to me beyond the obvious, immediate health issue?

Do you rememberwaking up in his bed with his thumb lodged deep in your guts?

It’d started so normally, you’d said yes, but of course, once you sayyes to a stranger, there’s no wayyou can back out after.

You woke in his bed to that burn, in that place no one had tried

to venture, not even yourself. You were still so drunk, so confused. Itwasn’tthe firsttime something like this had happened, but it had been so long that you were almosttrusting ofthe idea itwould neverhappen again.

Especially not like this. This gut punch was too literal.

And you’d fucked him, hadn’t you? You’d fucked him with gusto, happyto do it – excitement only starting to wane halfwaythrough,god, you didn’t wantto do this anymore, couldn’t figure outwhy, he’s not abusing you, there’s no excuse, there’s no excuse, keep going, keep going -

You’d fucked him, hadn’tyou? You’d fucked him long and hard and fast and good and well, well, well beyond your limit, praying to God despite being an Atheistthat he’d just come already, but he wasn’t showing signs, and so you’d dutifully raised your burning, trembling hips and thighs again and again, aching, aching.

Wasn’tthat enough? Orwas the stench of your vaginapermeating the small room, twirlinginside his nostrils, preventing him from orgasm?

No, he hadn’t come. You hadn’t done your penance. He was too drunkto come and this responsibilitywould be placed like a sword atyour sheath, now. But he fell asleep, his arms like a vice around you, unable to squirm awayto sneak home, and you slipped into a fitful sleep, onlyto wake later on to that burn

I’d neverwanted it, neither of us had discussed it, never even mentioned it, and there I was, prodded and stretched. I hadn’t even gone through with withdrawing consent and I was still being speared open, because I still seemed to owe him something.

Itwas so usual, though. Realityfell on me as a weighted blanket full of grief. A distantfriend visited withoutwarning, appearing atthe window I vacantly-

Vagina

stared out of while his thumb was in my arsehole. She placed a heavy hand on my shoulder and held me still with sad eyes.

Did he put his shitty thumb inside my vagina afterwards?

I don’ttaste too foul. I think I taste normal. Butwhat if? Am I meantto taste like sweet nectar and peach? My phone is filled with videos on what toingest to allowthe healthiestflora to grow down there in that cavern, that betrayal, that bus station.

Good customer service dictates you must have the best prod-uct on hand, and be damned if you don’twantto sell it. Even worse ifyou close the shop midwaythrough a sale.

And sometimes it is yourfault. You seek it out and don’t like what is given to you in return. Erring on the side of dangerfor a thrill that is onlythrilling for a moment and then you’re sitting next to someone who won’t letyou walk awayfromhim for even a second just to sip your beer. Pulling your arm and taking the bottle out ofyour hand, setting it aside so you can mount him, because you agreed to be here.

It is not myfault. I seek out sex and find myselftrapped in an apartment building in the morning. He’s asleep and I need a key card forthe building doors. I leave his place and realised I’d rather be trapped in an entire building than wake someone I don’twantto have sexwith anymore to tell him I wantto leave his home.

Maybe he’ll be pleased I took my smell with me. Maybe my breasts are bruised because he didn’t approve of mytaste.

And when I finally burst out ofthat building into the harsh and spiky sunlight, fire escape door clanging shut behind me, there’s thatfriend, offering me a cigarette and a hand, come, walkwith me.

This isn’tthe worstyou’ve been through. So quit it, because you left the house for exactlythis.

But did I? I seek sexual companionship, not this. I seek respect and fun, and yes, one-night stands are not particularly intimate, but sex is, so is itwrong of me to think I’ll feel safe to set any boundary?

It’s all I got, me and my shittyvagina. The smell must attract this kind of attention. Even so, I must be desired. I must smell good forthem. I must make sure I taste pleasant.

Maybe they'll get off faster that way.

Written By Maia Carr Heke (she/her)

WRITER

Breed or Bleed:

Why is the Grindr user-experience so polarising?

What’s orange, black and squirts you white? It’s probably a location-based gay hookup app, with 69.9 million downloads and a revenue growth of 33% last year. The Grindr app is a cultural phenomenon in the world of gay, bisexual, and queer men; this sticky manifestation of technology meets genitals is a peculiar digital-physical realm that indulges the breeding habits of many queer folks. Although the app’s purpose is purely for lighthearted contact sports, its existence is a surprisingly contentious divergence within the world of rainbow folk. I’ve been dabbling with Grindr for five years. I also coincidentally have a lot of gay friends, some of whom use the network to become a fertility donation centre every Monday, Wednesday, and Sunday, whilst Other participants in this culture are haunted by a lingering taste of revolt and enough trauma for that week’s therapy session. Even outside my pool of acquaintances, reactions to Grindr fracture between expressions of ‘yum!’ and ‘ugh.’ As a little guy doing design, my only opinion is from an inquisitive perspective: Why do some users get bred into the system while others get bled out?

Upon entering the app, what is revealed is a grid design like a chocolate box. Each square offers a savoury experience, from twinks to bears to daddies, all in your area. This visually abundant selection of suitors is designed to stimulate a sensation of belonging and sexual freedom. In the long-term, the reinforcement of those feelings has shown favourable results, from lowering internalised homophobia to embracing feelings of sexual empowerment. However, it can also be an objectifying experience, with the grid layout of the interface functioning as a fleshy marketplace where one visual appeal is one capital. Often, this contours casual sex to be a transactional affair, with each person within the grid lair bare to be compared and analysed against one another, evaluating what body will reap the most sexual gain.

From here, you either engage with the app passively or with an outcome-based approach, scrolling through their grid and observing profiles to directly message profiles for recreational activities. Although the interface was initially designed for casual sex, it developed to facilitate many needs, including friendship, community, socialising, dating, and entertainment - It’s an adaptable UX experience. When the intended gratification cannot be met, one can move to meet another social need within the app. Grindr’s ability to facilitate many types of connections is crucial for individuals to connect with other queer and gay individuals in new environments, living in restrictive cultural backgrounds and rural areas. The filter system helps to maximise navigation within the grid by personalising it to your interest and other users’ availability.

Yet, the app’s efficiency in connecting users within this UI is questionable; it offers the illusion of accessible connection and proficiency to prolong users’ engagement with the app, while other similar app interfaces, such as Tinder and Bumble, limit the number of users you can swipe each day. Grindr doesn’t have such a regulation. What comes into effect is two addictive principles: variable ratio reinforcement, in which the desired outcome from the interface is rewarded at unpredictable intervals; depending on other users’ availability, interest, and transportation, you may arrange a hookup instantly or wait for hours. The latter is the media system dependency model; the more you engage with the program, the more essential it becomes for you. This design is further driven by the 5-8 times the average Grindr user opens the app throughout the day to check notifications. Excessive daily use

can be a problematic cycle, generating feelings of guilt due to a lack of self-control and internalised slut shaming, which worsens self-esteem, leading to further use of the app to meet temporal sexual gratification as a coping mechanism to escape these negative sensations and reinflate self-esteem.

You spot a profile you are interested in, perhaps a nice shirtless torso. You observe on their profile a mutual interest in nipples; this tickles your sausage, and you slide into those DMs with some poetic introduction such as ‘up2’ ‘looking?” ‘*sends dick pic*.’ The primary purpose of Grindr’s direct messages is gratification, logistics and risk assessment. The openness to express self-disclosure within these chats offers a means of empowerment to control one’s sex life. Digital spaces provide the room to negotiate the type of intercourse, as well as when and where you do the deed. Risk and safety are measured in these conversations, from photo sharing, asking questions, and cross-platform checking to hosting the encounter at a familiar location such as your home. However, these risk assessment techniques only tackle the perceived risk, not the actual risk. Ultimately, you are facilitating a meeting with an unknown stranger in an unfamiliar location to do a private and vulnerable act. None of these risk assessment techniques are adequately secure when an actual risk appears - this can range from catfishing to sexual violence to sexual health. The anonymity, privacy and temporal nature of casual sex can often endorse this wrong type of behaviour.

Upon meeting Mr. Shirtless Torso and having his meaty sabre afflict your rear, you might contemplate to yourself,’ How could the Grindr interface become a more positively sexy experience? Recently, the app has widened into a lifestyle app; as user experience becomes multi-faceted on the site, Grindr wants to appeal to a more diverse outcome. They also recently updated the interface to provide at-home HIV test kits directly from the app to support queer individuals’ sexual wellbeing. In the next few months, we may see the upcoming installation of an AI feature. However, none of these probe the more significant issues surrounding Grindr. With this year marking the app’s 15th birthday, I wonder what kind of effect Grindr will have in another fifteen years and how it will evolve to meet the needs of its users and impact the culture around sex.

Written By Lucas van Schaardenburg (They/Them) @schaarsartor

WRITER

I loathed the fact my boyfriend would not sleep with me on my period. I knew it was because he didn’t like to touch my blood but I would follow his beck and call for any of his needs despite my ailment. We just couldn’t do anything for me.

Sex was always for the other, my partner, whether I was a willing participant or not. He had scrunched his nose when the blood splattered all around his groyne, dick going soft, trying to imagine a pornstar’s tight bloodless pussy over mine. That was the only way he could cum, he had said. Thinking of someone else.

I hadn’t cum once in any of our entanglements, I had never cum with a man and had only briefly made out with girls, never close to having sex with them. ‘Maybe with a woman, it would be different?’ was my one constant, bitter thought. He stared with this dead fish gaze, trying to finish himself off. Degrading is not the word I would like to use, but nothing else comes to mind. I always helped him get it over with even though I would have rather slept. He promised to touch me when I wasn’t bleeding, but I knew that wouldn’t be the case. There was a period of almost 2 months where I regularly gave head and he aimlessly fingered me.

Perhaps he couldn’t tell I didn’t feel a thing. I had told him I couldn’t feel a thing. He could just be bad at listening. Maybe it was worse than either and he just didn’t care. I knew that I performed well, I practised in and off the bed, referencing pornstars with their contorted bodies shuddering in pleasure. I performed the perfect girlfriend and the even better slut. I heard him brag to his friends, whisper to me in a trance he’d never felt pleasure like that before. On the other hand, I’d memorise lies to repeat about how good my sex life was and wistfully listen to queer friends recount on two hands how many times they had come. Perhaps, and I had thought this a lot, everyone is lying just a little bit about how good the sex they are having is. I didn’t really think my pussy was a mind-boggling experience like all my partners seemed to think and liked to tell me. Like how I had told them how incredible their dicks were and I hadn’t felt anything like it. Everything was just for pageantry. Nothing could actually compete with my little handheld vibrator - which was my most reliable sword for my little sheath.

The most solace I’ve found navigating everything is with straight women. They all recount stories of moaning and squirming just so they could get the act over with. Not at all like the seeing-stars stories my fellow homosexuals told me.

Not that I’d know, bound eternally to my hetero nature.

Maybe sex with men was not meant to be that enjoyable to women.

Written By Yue (Any/All) | CONTRIBUTING WRITER

Debate & Craccum:

Star-Crossed Lovers

Written By Thomas The Bastard; Duke

Illustration

Tashi Donnelly (she/her)

of Glenfield

wo universities, both alike in standing, had an ancient feud born out of unrepentant egotism. In the pursuit of rankings and reputation, the foolish rage of the Auckland University of Technology and The University of Auckland divided these two once amorous kins apart. They yelled, “Away, you old stinking whoreson! Be gone, scullion!” at each other from ornate ivory towers.

A greying tar road strewn with cob webbing cracks and carnelian leaves fluttered in the blustery wind that kept the peace between the two feuding universities. No heathen dared to rebel against Professors Damon Salesa and Dawn Freshwater and step foot over the time-worn milk-white centre-line. Those who set foot across the road onto foe’s land were greeted with an embrace of clubs and rocks. Bodies turned purple with rage as fountains of warm blood splattered onto torn varsity sweatshirts and battered black boots.

One day, as the troubled sun set, a golden ray peered through the louring clouds. Two fair younglings basking in the remnants of the day’s harsh heat came eye-to-eye. Debate and Craccum were struck by each other’s beauty. The tortured world that had swallowed all hope melted away into the chasm of night. Yet, they could not rejoice for they could not find delight right there as cupids. The pair’s whispers had to be heard across the gulf of hatred as the road of disunity kept the two flames from love’s tenderness. Thou shalt not escape the civil blood that poisons kind hearts like the juice of hebona.

Debate and Craccum, two lambkins, continued to meet, whispering fantastical tales of far-flung lands to each other under the cloak of vespertine stillness. Neither dared venture across the artery of bicker until the torch of passion burned red-hot. But one night, as sparrows danced across the sky and frogs croaked, the two could no longer abstain from their lascivious desires.

The University of Auckland’s mighty bell pierced the still night when the clock struck twelve. Weary heathens hunkered under sable blankets as Debate and Craccum, with trembling flesh, inched closer towards the line of partition. Soon, they stood, blushing, as they felt each other’s hot breath on their scarlet cheeks.

“Oh, Debate, I love you with so much of my heart I’d trade a coffer full of silver for just one night with you.”

“Oh, Craccum, the very instant I saw you, I loved you more than all the pots of ale in the world.”

The two moved closer with lustful desire. Their plush rosy lips almost grazed each other. Still, as they stood a threepence apart, neither had made the fearful passage to the other side. As Debate and Craccum gazed at each other’s souls with sparkling eyes, they knew that love shall not free thee from the winds of woe.

“Oh, Debate, your love comforteth thee like the beauty of the sun on a glorious summer’s day.”

“Oh, Craccum, you are to my thoughts as a bee is to the sweet nectar of a blooming marigold.”

Before Debate could react, Craccum had stepped across the line of discontent and folded into their arms. The surging tide of affection left the two lovers dizzy.

“Oh, Craccum, I can express no kinder sign of love than this tender kiss upon your cheek.”

For a long moment, Debate and Craccum were frozen. The cruel knife of time was suspended. The sun did not rise nor did the grass drizzle with morning dew. They stayed suspended, bodies intertwined, until Debate broke away with a hammering heart. Craccum, giddy with Cupid’s arrow, pulled Debate back in.

Desperate to sin, they gave thee to thee, as Debate and Craccum clung to each other. Their mouths lay open on top of each other like two split-open strawberries ripe with juice.

The tongue of Craccum slipped inside Debates’s mouth, sending electrifying tremours along their nerves. The passion of their kiss increased as the hand of Debate pulled on the hair of Craccum. The two evoked sensations each other had never felt. Heat radiated from their loins as Debate and Craccum groaned. They risked being seen, but the pair were emboldened by the unrest of arousal. Even as their jaws ached and their hands tired from searching each other’s bodies, Debate and Craccum were tied down by invisible threads. Furious lust had taken over, but pleasure made the hours of the night seem short.

The light of a new day began to grow, conspiring against these two young lovers. Their adventuring bodies parted, retreating behind the white line of abhorrence.

“Oh, Debate, the world is not our friend, but I pray that I will be touched by your wondrous light again.”

“Oh, Craccum, we will reclaim this world of hate and fill it with the joy of love. Our love.”

Pulling Out From The Onus of Pregnancy Prevention

Disclaimer: Birth control is often framed as an issue for people with the capacity to become pregnant, and this limited framing prevents individuals from learning about information that is important for their sexual health and safety. In Aotearoa, our trans, non-binary and gender-diverse whānau are still subject to gender essentialism when accessing perinatal care. By using inclusive language, we empower everyone to make informed choices. While mthis article specifically explores evidence of gender asymmetry between cisgender men’s and women’s experiences of contraceptive use, reproductive injustice affects us all.

The side effect sheet of my birth control pill moonlights as a blanket. Double-sided and measuring 15 x 11 inches (38cm x 27cm), the sizable piece of paper comprehensively outlines the countless risks of oral contraception — risks that I must undertake for the reward of preventing an unplanned pregnancy. Truly, there is nothing sexier than having your body bloat and bleed from being pumped full of hormones! While non-hormonal alternatives are available, the horror stories pertaining to painful IUD insertions turned me off permanently. Oh, the price we pay for pleasurable sex without making a baby in the process.

Historically, contraception has always been a ‘woman’s issue’. In 1961, the contraceptive pill revolutionised the post-war socio-cultural landscape of Aotearoa. Gaining access to birth control was flagged as a feminist win, as women were finally able to make real choices over their fertility. In this new era of reproductive justice, more women delayed their ‘duties’ of marriage and motherhood, opting to study at university or stay longer in the workforce. Within two decades, the national birth rate halved. By breaking the bond between intercourse and reproduction, sex is seen to provide benefits beyond pregnancy.

Nowadays, the buffet of birth control caters to a variety of preferences. Sexual Wellbeing Aotearoa (formerly known as Family Planning) offers the daily oral pill, alongside long-acting reversible contraception; such as the injection, the implant, and two types of IUDs. Yet the availability of male contraception is limited to condoms and vasectomies only. Despite four decades of research and news reports promising a breakthrough every 5 years, no male-oriented birth control has ever made it into the mainstream market.

Currently, there are several types of male contraceptives being developed and tested around the world. With hormonal and non-hormonal options and a plethora of delivery methods, men should be spoiled for choice. Unfortunately, most of these approaches require ten weeks to become effective, and

continuous treatment to maintain efficacy. A similar amount of time is expected for reversals. Another barrier is the scientific difficulty of defining what level of sperm count constitutes sterility, if not zero, in order to provide sufficient protection. Given that 1,500 sperm cells are produced per heartbeat (how romantic!), finding a way to defend the egg from these enthusiastic swimmers could be a life-long research commitment. Considering these shortcomings (haha), there is an unfulfilled need for male birth control that is effective and reversible.

Research into male contraception is a barren land, but scientists and scholars are confident that half a century of interdisciplinary effort will bear fruit. Multiple clinical programmes have commenced, with some methods escalating from rodent experiments to human trials. One option is a male oral contraceptive pill, which is designed to suppress hormones required for conception when taken daily. Another project showing promise is a hormonal gel rubbed onto shoulders and upper arms. This substance contains synthetic progestin, which prevents the production of testosterone in the testes, and thus, sperm being produced. By extension, replacement testosterone is added to reduce possible side effects, such as low libido. Alternatively, there is a non-hormonal gel that gets directly injected into the vas deferens, which is the tube that transfers sperm from the epididymis to the ejaculatory ducts. The injection contains a polymer serving to block spermatozoa from travelling into seminal fluid.

These studies are obviously groundbreaking, but the regulatory framework for introducing new medication into the market has become much stricter since the development of female contraception. Back then, there were barely any guidelines about clinical trials, resulting in controversial incidents that violated research ethics and abused human rights. Due to this newfound scrutiny, potential side effects for male contraception are regarded as particularly problematic for contemporary regulators, as exemplified by a clinical trial that was paused indefinitely because participants reported acne, mood swings, and injection site pain. Many criticised this decision, as the widely-used birth control methods for women warranted similar, if not more severe, symptoms. This outcry illustrates the disproportionate burden placed upon those with ovaries to prevent pregnancies.

Due to the dearth of male contraceptive options, such a lack of technological advancements has shaped societal attitudes and beliefs about who is primarily responsible for birth control. The introduction of the female contraceptive pill fundamentally changed the lives of women, and the impact was so profound that it quickly became the most popular method. Accordingly, parents, partners, and peers, normalised oral

contraceptives as the logical choice for sexually active individuals. Yet by only focusing on people who can get pregnant, patriarchal institutions infer that we must face the mental and physical toll of contraception, and accept culpability if unplanned pregnancies arise.

Birth control is an incredibly gendered issue. The patriarchy socialises those who are capable of getting pregnant to bear the burden of pregnancy prevention by shaming and stigmatising unplanned pregnancies. In our sexually liberated world, many men assume that their female counterparts would manage contraceptive needs, as this is preferable to using a condom or considering other options that threaten their own comfort. Such gendered expectations undermine reproductive freedom. By challenging these power imbalances via narratives that purport to share the responsibility of contraception, disempowered parties are able to negotiate safe sex on their own terms, and thus, their bodily autonomy. As Aotearoa anticipates the hard launch of over-the-counter male contraception, kiwi men equally must overcome oppressive structures and systems that operate to limit reproductive justice.

PORN

:An Age Old Moral Conundrum

Porn. Whether you watch it every day or hardly ever, it’s a fair assessment that nearly all of us have given it a go at least once or twice.

There’s a crazy amount of pornographic content readily available to us, at all times. Gone are the days of buying a nudie mag from the gas station or renting a video from the R-18 section of VideoEzy, not that I’m quite old enough to have done either of those things. In today’s world, if I so desire, I could open up Safari, or Reddit, or Twitter, or OnlyFans, and see as many boobs as I wanted. Or, I could go to a pirating website to watch Avatar and get a face full of pop-ups of naked women. Whether we like it or not, porn is everywhere, and in a lot of ways, it’s great. Women are making a living for themselves and reclaiming their power over their sexuality through working in the industry. In a lot of other ways, however, its existence can have repercussions the viewer isn’t even aware of.

While you’re single, you can watch porn to your heart’s content. No one to answer to, no relationship politics to adhere to. But, that all changes once you combine your life with another’s; some people have a firm boundary that watching porn is classified as cheating, others are a bit more loose and think it’s okay in moderation, while a third group deems any jurisdiction over this topic controlling and unfair.

There’s no rulebook to follow when it comes to relationships, and there are most definitely no guidelines for the new problems that technology has brought us. It’s one of those things where you consult yourself, your partner, and probably your friends, and come to an agreement that suits your individual relationship. However, regardless of your stance, there is a good chance that there is more rhyme and reason to a distaste for porn consumption than the simple “I don’t like it”.

The amount of porn we watch and the sheer availability of it has increased with the advancement of the internet. Alongside this obvious increase, the addition of complete anonymity has come with it too. No longer having to show your face to a cashier when purchasing your chosen merchandise, you can delve into your deepest sexual desires with no accountability. Sex and kinks are natural parts of human behaviour and desire, but over-exposure to whenever you please has the very real potential to have psychological effects. We know that masturbating is healthy, physically and emotionally – a stress reliever and emotional regulator. But, a lot of heterosexual porn focuses solely on male pleasure. With the woman, or women, ensuring the best experience for the man near, if not, 100% of the time. This can often look like intense, rigorous sex that one would assume hurts her, rather than pleases her.

Watching this type of content consistently and continuously leads, consciously or not, to the idea that this is what sex should be like. And in some cases, it can become the only type of sex that will turn the viewer on in real life. In a world that is placing more and more emphasis on consent and the importance of female pleasure during

sex, this seems like it has the ability to cause a large societal step in the wrong direction. If for a prolonged period of time, the only sexual activity you’re engaging in is virtual, male-centric, with no audible addition of consent in sight, why would you expect or want anything else from the eventual in-person sexual encounter?

A firm stance about porn consumption that I hold is that it is less about the general act of watching porn and more so about the particular type of porn, and the attitude you view it with. If you feel empowered by what you watch, and you find a partner who shares an interest in that type of ‘play’, there’s no issue. Mindfulness and intuition are key; focus on what makes you feel good, before, during, and post. Go into your wank bank with an open mind and the notion that art replicates life, and R18 videos are no exception to this rule. Everyone involved in whatever type of sex you’re having should be having a great time. Filled with firm yes’s and overarching enthusiasm from the foreplay to the aftercare. Sites such as PornHub’s videos tend to leave a bad taste in my mouth after the fact because of their continual lack of care for the exact point I’ve been highlighting. Knowing they have little to no regulations around fair pay, trafficking, and exploitation makes it impossible to know which videos are ethical, or if I’m putting money into the pockets of terrible people.

For fear of misrepresenting my point, this is not to say all porn = bad, and all porn watchers = bad, and it is most definitely not preaching the point that porn content creators = bad. But, much like the advice circulating about all media consumption, be wary of what you consume. As you would, or should, in real-life sexual situations, keep respect and consent in mind. A good way to put these words into practice is to source your content directly from the creators themselves I.E from OnlyFans. Or, if you want variation without breaking the bank on multiple subscriptions, use sites such as Belleza, Make Love Not Porn, or Dipsea; they all provide a large variation of content with ethics at the forefront of their production. Ethical porn ensures workers first and foremost want their videos and image out there, and that they are paid fairly for their contributions. But if your partner still says it’s a no-go for you to look at porn regardless of where it comes from, try watching it together – including the person you love in a vulnerable state will give both of you insight into what the other likes. Furthermore, it can give you an idea of what you’d like to try in a real-life scenario or tell you what parts you would not, which can help you evaluate what you should maybe take off the roster.

Written By Paris Lloyd-Beere

Down & Dirty: Reviewing Porn (For The Plot)

Porn. It is ubiquitous in society, yet no one wants to talk about it openly. Including me. If I display a deep knowledge of porn, what does that say about me? But, if I don’t appear informed, this article will ‘blow’. I can only hope that I come across as an “informed shitposter”, rather than a “creepy connoisseur”. My editor gave me those honorifics.

This piece was partly inspired by a docu-series called Chris and Eli’s Porn Revolution. It wanted to start a national conversation about what an ethical and healthy relationship with porn looks like. Chris and Eli asked Aotearoa to ‘get on top of porn’.

A few of their top tips were to pay for ethically produced porn, remember that X-rated content isn’t educational, and listen to yourself - you define your relationship with it. Porn, while commonplace, has many dangerous and problematic aspects. But for a moment, let’s put the dangers of porn to the side and instead focus on its often hilariously unrealistic tropes & cliches.

Porn birthed the infamous black leather casting couch, advertisements that insult you for being alone and the idea that getting freaky in the back of a taxi is somehow practical. Adult films have also introduced us to doctor-cum-engineer-cum-karate master-cum-school teacher-cum-plumber-cum-office worker-cum-pizza delivery guy-cum-preacher-cum-soldiercum-policeman-cum-astronaut-cum-firefighter Johnny Sins.

Statistics have revealed the titillating fact that people from the Bay of Plenty are more likely to search for “Pillow Humping” on PornHub compared to the rest of Aotearoa. In 2019, people from Gisborne spent the most time (11mins 16secs) per visit in the country. The city also leads in searches for “Feet”. Go Gisborne!

What these statistics don’t tell us is why people are watching porn. But that’s because it’s obvious. We only ever watch porn for the plot, right? Let’s review it.

One Meatlovers Pizza with Extra Sausage

This one is a classic. In this plot, a woman gets a pizza delivered but doesn’t have money to pay for the pizza. There is only one logical thing for the characters to do next. She organises an ‘alternative method of payment’; somehow, the delivery guy gives her a ‘tip’ instead.

To me, there’s something incongruous about pizza delivery and sex. The underpaid, overworked guy delivering pizza is covered in sweat and grease from a hard shift. During that shift, he had

fifteen people complain about how long it took, three people threaten him with violence to avoid payment, and a near-death experience involving a small crusty white dog.

There is only one logical thing for the characters to do next. She organises an ‘alternative method of payment’; somehow, the delivery guy gives her a ‘tip’ instead.

Ordering pizza alone can also be a low point. You’ve come home from work and sat around for a while. Finally, you peruse your humble abode for something to eat. Shit, you live in an ingredient household. You decide you deserve a little treat.

Your dilapidated body asks, “Any danger of that little treat being a vegetable, sport?” “There are tomatoes in the pizza sauce, and basil leaves are a vegetable, right? It’s as green and healthy as can be,” you tell yourself. The pizza arrives lukewarm, drowning in grease. It nearly falls through the bottom of the box. The crust seems woefully disappointed at how little cheese it got stuffed with. There is somehow less pepperoni on it than ever before.

Perhaps others have had different experiences, but I’d say the pizza delivery process is an inherently sexless one.

Easily-Distracted Plumber Cleans Pipes He Doesn’t Have Qualifications For

any tradesperson can fill this role, but it is usually a plumber because the scriptwriters see the limitless innuendo potential.

Plumbing is just one chapter of international hero Johnny Sins’ illustrious career. Hot take: I don’t think he’s a good plumber. He’s always in the middle of the job before being interrupted by the most jarring cut to pipe cleaning action you’ll ever see. Does he ever actually finish a job?

I could see myself getting banged by a tradesperson. Not literally, but figuratively. See, I’m not the manliest of men. I often find myself ill-equipped to deal with any issue that arises with my house or car. It wouldn’t be hard to convince me to buy ‘premium air’ for my tyres.

At least I can edit the WiFi router’s settings and change the TV from HDMI1 to HDMI2. My parents think I’m some sort of wizard with tech. In reality, I watched The IT Crowd and learnt to always try turning things off and on again. It’s a shame I can’t exercise that kind of control over other aspects of my life.

After-School ‘Detention’

Coming from an all-boys high school, this one is especially unrealistic and quite problematic. With the vaping, fights, and general disregard for authority, the only romantic chemistry at my school was between teachers and their pre-written resignation letters. The most interesting thing about these videos is often what’s written on the blackboards. One Reddit user noted that they saw the equations: “½ = ∞” and “George Washington + Abraham Lincoln = cool bros.”

My high school had an eventful relationship with porn. During the Covid-19 lockdowns, students were issued with Chromebooks to participate in remote learning. Many bored young men tried to access adult content on said Chromebooks. Their actions came to light during what became known as the ‘Porn Assembly’.

The principal informed the fidgety school hall that each attempt to view porn sent an alert to his email.

The principal informed the fidgety school hall that each attempt to view porn sent an alert to his email. He played us a government ad that involved two porn stars showing up on a young man’s doorstep to talk to his mum. “If I get any more of those emails, it won’t be porn stars showing up on your doorstep, boys, it’ll be me.”

CAUGHT???!!!!

Porn with a plot centred around the risk of being caught is common. Something about being caught in the act seems to get people positively randy. The so-called “danger-wank” is a notable example. Often, a character is caught ‘choking the chicken’ and receives some ‘help’. Alternatively, it’s someone cheating while their partner is right next to them. The everlasting cliche of this genre of porn is the character’s complete lack of peripheral vision. It’s stupidly unrealistic but hilarious.

In one ridiculous piece of scriptwriting, a guy is taking it from behind while talking to his wife across the kitchen counter. Eventually, she realizes. “Are you guys fucking?! Are you serious?! Right in front of my salad?!”

In one ridiculous piece of scriptwriting, a guy is taking it from behind while talking to his wife across the kitchen counter. Eventually, she realizes. “Are you guys fucking?! Are you serious?! Right in front of my salad?!”

This genre is seriously odd. We must remember that those around us have working eyes and ears. If you are caught by anyone in an unholy act, their reaction is gonna be a tad different to what you see online.

“Honey, I Think I Downloaded the Wrong Star Wars!”

Pornographic parodies of popular films, TV shows and video games. There is no limit on how farcical they can be. You could argue that choosing to watch something you love get so appallingly repurposed is a form of self-torture. I’d argue that watching Bane cry, “Let the games begin!” as he watches his fly get unzipped brings nothing but joy.

A freaky feature of the porn parody category is a “Star Wars” knock-off in which a male and a female are duelling with lightsabres in classic Jedi robes. To defeat the male, the female uses the force to manipulate the male’s second lightsabre, which you see painfully contort under the cloth. The music abruptly stops and the camera zooms in on the female’s smiling face. Her enemy is left crumpled on the ground, eyes lifeless; blood inexplicably seeping from his mouth.

Now THAT is cinema. Nolan, eat your heart out.

Perhaps I’ve come off as a little too knowledgeable. All I’ll say is that researching this piece has been illuminating. So, if you think I’m a “creepy connoisseur”, it takes one to know one. I’ll be damned if I’m gonna sit here and be lectured by a pervert.

Written By Luke Fisher (he/him) @lukefish7__ CONTRIBUTING WRITER

wasted

stuck between the lies the sheets the manipulations and your body

blinded by your love which wasn’t love but a sheer form of coercion

taken at your word but with each word there was a lie a hidden meaning and it was never taken at face value

first your words then your actions where you restricted me blocked me took advantage of me

forced yourself on to me I said no physically restricted me I said no ignored my safe words I said no restrained me I said no hit me I said no

yet all my nos and my safe words did nothing because you did not care I was an object to you merely an object yet you kept me there until I was too used and you threw me to waste

Written By

C Fonseca (they/them) @c.fonseca06703

CONTRIBUTING

WRITER

Comic By Ann Mariya | @yourloveannnn | Contributing Illustrator

This is not an article to excuse your partner — especially, if you want to have sex, but you guys just don’t like each other anymore. On another note, it’s not to excuse your (possibly) repulsive behaviour. If no one wants to have sex with you because you exude ‘man-on-the-prowl’ behaviour, then, I’m afraid I can’t do anything about that. That work is all on you, buddy. I am also not asexual. I know this is true because Dev Patel exists and wow. Everything I am about to say is said in the context of consent; it can be given and taken away at any moment. So let’s start: even if I’m somebody that enjoys sex, I wasn’t somebody who was always preoccupied by it — via thought nor action — and that’s okay!

So let’s start: even if I’m somebody that enjoys sex, I wasn’t somebody who was always preoccupied by it — via thought nor action — and that’s okay!

Let’s backtrack. I grew up in a religious environment and in the Philippines. The whole shebang: Christian school, dress code at prom, no hugging at school, purity ring. Growing up, my parents never made me feel guilty for ‘sinning’, in general. We believed in spirituality, but not condemnation. I wasn’t repressed nor horny. I wasn’t really pining to be dicked down, I genuinely had no thoughts about it. Even with dating, I had no feelings whatsoever, in fact. I hated the idea of being in any relationship. I just saw sex as sex, something that happens. If I wanted to have sex then I would… but I wasn't dying to ‘pop my cherry’. It was just an experience. Did I feel religious guilt when it happened? Not at all. Everything they said at church was a lie, you don’t actually get attached to everyone you have sex with. You just have sex with them, like you’re still separate people living separate lives who happen to do each other.

I had no thoughts about sex, and then suddenly, I had to be an expert — a sexpert. It was so hard… navigating this. So I thought to myself ‘god, I’m fucked,’ — and not even in the way I wanted to be.

Once I entered the dating scene, I started to learn about what I had to offer as a person. I’m funny, smart, and charismatic. I can carry a conversation, make someone feel good about who they are, and also make them miss my company. I also learned that I enjoy sex, but wasn’t always thinking about it. What shocked me a bit when I started dating, was that sex seemed to be the main currency that people held. It’s like dating in your twenties, but being around guys who talk about sex like we’re in high school. I was in situations where grown men would talk about everything explicitly, even on the first date. As if they didn’t know the first rule of sex: you don’t kiss and tell. I’m not gonna lie, it pressured me a bit. I had no thoughts about sex, and then suddenly, I had to be an expert — a sexpert. It was so hard… navigating this. So I thought to myself ‘god, I’m fucked,’ — and not even in the way I wanted to be.

Not getting laid? That’s OK! You're still hot!

I realised I was actually dating jerks. After the worst heartbreak of my life, I did a complete one-eighty. I found some like-minded people and I realised that I wasn’t so odd. When it comes to sex, it’s really about what works best for you. It’s not really a bargaining chip if you’ve done lots or not. Go at your own pace. If you don’t feel comfortable flirting so much, you don’t have to. If you don’t feel like sending a hot pic for a hot pic, don’t. If you don’t really think about it, or want it, why should you feel pressured to be having sex just because everyone is? If you’re not getting any, that’s okay.

If you don’t really think about it, or want it, why should you feel pressured to be having sex just because everyone is? If you’re not getting any, that’s okay.

Sex is just sex. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it can be fucking great, but you shouldn’t feel pressured to make sex your endall-be-all. No matter how hot someone is, if we didn’t see sex the same way, then we shouldn’t do it together. Sex should be fun, but also an avenue for self-exploration. It should feel safe, no matter what you want to try — my golden rule when it comes to sex: if you feel 50/50 about something maybe just don’t do it. There should be no judgement! Communication is always key. It’s not embarrassing to communicate before, during, and after sex. You can always talk about what gets you going and what doesn’t. So, whether you think about it a lot, or not, I hope you all have lots of great sex, if you want it — or none, if you don’t.

Written By Gabbie De Baron (she/they) @gabizzlesizzle | GRAPHIC DESIGNER

Illustration By

Chloe Bagayas (she/her) @lilclodoodles | CONTRIBUTING ILLUSTRATOR

Is the financial crisis making you feel down instead of wanting to ‘get down’? In a Q&A with Aussie-based sexology student, Zoe Snell (she/her) provides guidance, assurance and answers to questions that cover all sorts of sex related topics. Informative to all students, whatever sex-life-state they find themselves currently in.

Could you describe what the term ‘sexology’ means to you and what led you to undertake this field of study?

‘Sexology’ is kind of what it says on the tin, it’s the scientific study of sex. I understand sexology to examine the biological, psychosocial, and social aspects of human sexuality and sexual well-being. I was drawn to it as I have always been fascinated by sex (I used to say talking about sex is the next best thing to having it!) and how it’s such a human experience, yet is so taboo within our society. It was during a post-lockdown moment of clarity that I decided to undertake this field of study as I realised I wasn’t fulfilled in my current field of work, and I should go back and do something I’ve always been interested in!

What is your favourite thing to tell people when it comes to de-mystifying things around sex?

I love discussing sexual scripts with people! Most people haven’t heard the term ‘sexual scripts’, but when you explain what they are, they understand. Sexual scripts are basically society’s shared meanings for what’s an appropriate sexual behaviour, and generally they’re informed by gender roles. A good example is the notion that men should always be the one to initiate sex. We’ve likely all thought this at some point to varying degrees, but it’s so important to unpack why we hold this belief otherwise it can lead to really harmful thoughts and behaviours. I always encourage people who are interested in sexual behaviours to look into sexual scripts and see how they may have informed their decisions and feelings!

Are there any misconceptions about sex and finances that you often encounter within your studies?

I think it’s important to acknowledge that sex isn’t always as glamorous as we’re led to believe. So much of what we see represented in the media is beautiful people having sex in big plush beds with 1000-thread-count sheets, when in reality that is not often how sex looks for a lot of people. Sex isn’t better because you have a big bed or fancy lingerie, it can be just as great on a single mattress wearing a stained t-shirt!

Do you believe that a cost-of-living crisis, which both Aotearoa and Australia are facing, has an impact on students’ sex lives?

Absolutely! Many young people who are currently experiencing this cost-of-living crisis are reporting high feelings of stress and anxiety, and when we’re stressed or anxious our cortisol levels increase, which in turn reduces our testosterone, the hormone most responsible for our libido. To put it simply: feeling stressed is likely to make you less horny.

What advice do you have for students who may be navigating both sexual exploration and financial independence for the first time?

The growing pains at this time are real, it can be really hard to transition from late adolescence to early adulthood, but I think being kind to yourself is the most important thing. If your sex life or your financial situation doesn’t look how you imagined, firstly let go of expectations, secondly don’t forget it’s not now or never! Both these things will grow and develop over time as you do too, so there’s no need to be in such a rush to get to the destination, have fun figuring it all out.

and preferences without adding financial pressure?

Sex doesn’t need to cost a thing! If there are sexual desires you want to explore, start with low-cost experiences like trying a new position or incorporating role play or dirty talk. If there are things that you want to explore that cost money, maybe like bringing in sex toys, talk to your partner about how this will meet your needs and fill a gap that you feel is missing - it could be reflective of something bigger in the relationship, you can then work together to budget for the purchase. Don’t forget that your sexuality is vital to your overall well-being, and you’re never being frivolous for wanting to explore it! Before bringing in anything new to sex, whether it’s positions, role play, dirty talk or a sex toy, talk to your partner first and make sure you have their consent!

My other tip would be never have conversations about finances where you tend to have sex, like the bed. Keep that area sacred for your physical intimacy.

What are some essential tips for maintaining good physical hygiene and sexual health for students who are beginning to explore their sexuality?

Prevention is always better (cheaper) than cure, so staying safe and healthy will save you money in the long run! As un-sexy as it may be, washing your hands before any sexual activity is a great way to prevent bacteria entering the urinary tract which can lead to pesky UTIs (urinary tract infections), and unwanted doctor appointments. For the same reason, if you have a vulva, always do a wee after sex or masturbating to flush out any bacteria that may have entered your urethra.

Using condoms is the easiest way to prevent STIs or unwanted pregnancy, both of which cost money to treat. Condoms generally cost $1 per use, so they are a cost-effective way of staying safe, but many youth services or sexual health agencies will offer free condoms, you can always call and ask or Google locations near you. You can get free condoms online from the Burnett Foundation Aotearoa, or if you’re in Australia, Headspace provides free condoms at most of their locations.

If you suspect you might have an STI and you are unable to attend a doctor’s office, I would suggest first contacting a local sexual health agency as they usually offer low-cost services for students and can even offer free services depending on your financial situation. If this isn’t an option, you can always attend the emergency department of your local hospital as a last resort (just be prepared to wait a while!).

I find it very interesting that a woman coined the term ‘incel’ to describe her romantic life and feelings of loneliness, before it was hijacked by the misogynistic alt-right. Why do men ruin everything!?

By Stella Roper (they/she) @stellyvision

ARTS & CULTURE EDITOR

By Sophia Lee (she/her) CONTRIBUTING ILLUSTRATOR

Follow Zoe Snell on Instagram: @zocs_ for more!

Interview

Illustration

TW: Sex, Sexuality

On Queer Representation: Contemporary Media

The year is 2007; I’m sitting in front of my family’s boxy TV in the living room with my sister. We were watching the Bratz Fashion Pixiez film when I first laid my eyes on Lina, and my world was never the same. From Marceline in Adventure Time to Velma in Scooby Doo to Kristen Stewart in Zathura: A Space Adventure, my queerness has found solace in a myriad of characters throughout my life.

Nowadays, queer representation in film and television is more abundant and powerful than ever. The slow and non-linear progression of LGBTQ+ acceptance has manifested itself in not only more queer and ‘queer-coded’ characters in media but better, more monumental queer relationships, queer stories and queer pride.

To appreciate just how far we’ve come, I thought it pertinent to take a look at some contemporary representations of different identities, experiences and relationships. I’ve chosen this non-exhaustive list of recent films and television that I personally revere, which each take on queerness in unique and valuable ways.

Love Lies Bleeding (2024)

Dir. Rose Glass

I knew only two things about this film before seeing it. Queer thriller & Kristen Stewart. Love Lies Bleeding mashes a gritty sapphic romantic plot with an entanglement of eccentric and flawed characters. What unfolds is a dramatic and gruesome series of events with shocking twists and turns in every scene. Combining two of my favourite genres—queer romance and gory horror with a tacky 80’s aesthetic—Love Lies Bleeding was an unsurprisingly entertaining film.

The deftly compelling romance between the main love interests, Jackie (Katy O’Brien) and Lou (Kristen Stewart), triggered, at times, enthralling confrontations not only with other characters but with their own chasmic personal identities. The film’s ending was epically, magically bizarre and despite the criticism levied against it, the story was made all the more thrilling.

While the queer representation in this film is hardly exemplary of an objectively ‘healthy queer relationship’—the pair bond most often through frenzied sex or rageful violence—its depiction of lesbian romance is candid and intimate whilst simultaneously exhilarating and passionate. Love Lies Bleeding is without a doubt worth the watch.

Joyland (2022)

Dir. Saim Sadiq

This Pakistani film is a captivating and raw story captured through the lives of a dynamic extended family in Lahore. Among these family members is Haider. In the film, he embarks on an isolating and deeply personal journey of sexual exploration.

Joyland, the first major Pakistani motion picture to feature a trans actor in a lead role, was initially subjected to censorship due to certain “objectionable erotic” scenes. The main character Biba, a strong trans woman who faces relentless, ongoing abuse—as played by Alina Khan—is an important and powerful queer portrayal. Director Saim Sadiq authentically depicts queerness and transness through Biba without fetishizing the experience.

Against a social context which drives all of the characters to set aside their individual desires in favour of religious duties and obligations, Haider and Biba’s stories are all the more tragic, isolating and courageous.

I appreciated this film for the earnest and sometimes embarrassing private moments of discovering sexuality, which helped extend the sexual themes beyond just the taboo of queerness. Joyland is a must-see for anyone who ought to stomach the painful realities of suppressive social boundaries on individual desires.

Heartbreak High (2022 - Present )

Series Creator. Hannah Caroll Chapman

I hope I’m not alone in saying I binged season 2 within the span of 24 hours. I don’t regret it! Heartbreak High is one of my favourite shows due to its fantastically authentic depiction of the Aussie high school experience. I am a Kiwi but I did, in fact, complete my schooling across the ditch.

This show and its cast of unique, flawed and predominantly queer Gen Z characters could be the subject of a ten thousand-word dissertation, and much would still be left unsaid. Heartbreak High doesn’t shy away from the cringy and awkward high-school trials and tribulations undertaken by the vivacious characters.

Every subplot is packed with juicy drama and stirring ro-

Written By Sara McKoy (she/her) @saramckoy CONTRIBUTING WRITER

Representation: Media & How Far We’ve Come

mance, from Quinni and Sasha’s sweet albeit turbulent relationship in Season 1, to threesomes and love triangles galore, to a wholesome portrayal of asexuality by the atypical eshay, Ca$h. Handling key themes of queerness, sexuality and consent, Season 2 gives way to the epic and mostly unproblematic sexual explorations of queer Indigenous main characters Missy and Malakai. The duo, who were given more screen time in the second season, represent a demographic rarely seen in mainstream media.

This show is a groundbreaking representation of queerness in Australia, and I would extend as well, Aotearoa. It deals with identities and intersections often invisible or previously untouched. I personally adore the character of Ca$h, as portrayed by Will McDonald. His disposition — sensitive yet strong despite mounting peer pressures — aligns with asexuality in a real and important way. His personal journey, particularly in season 2, where he confronts the boundaries between romance and sex with his partner Darren, validates so many of the thoughts and experiences I myself have grappled with regarding asexuality.

By shedding light on the stories of underrepresented groups, Heartbreak High captures queerness in a compelling narrative which is sincere and emotional while simultaneously juvenile, dramatic and delightful to watch.

All of Us Are Strangers (2023)

Dir. Andrew Haigh

After hearing both Paul Mescal and Andrew Scott were the leads in this film, it was instantly catapulted to the top of my watch list. All of Us Are Strangers did not disappoint. The plot, albeit devoid of much exhilarating action, was filled with intense personal emotion paired with a queer relationship between the main characters Adam and Harry. The film placed gay sex and sexuality at the centre of a delicate and dramatic story of personal grief. In key moments, Haigh forces the audience to embrace this tragic queer romance with heavy intimacy and seriousness.

Queerness was portrayed as endlessly complex and effortlessly simple; as isolated and private. The film left me with a new understanding of what queer love looked like while also leaving me in ruins from the tragedy that had unfolded.

Whilst there is little confrontation in this film with the social or political realities that often accompany the queer experience,

this film is an undoubtedly beautiful and important new film for contemporary, queer male representation.

Poor Things (2023) Dir. Yorgos Lanthimos

This film was a life-altering experience. There is nothing quite like Poor Things. It’s an insane and wild ride. While queerness is not the core focus of this film, sex – and more specifically the female sexual experience and sexual pleasure – take centre stage as key themes.

What makes Poor Things unique is the way in which it sets aside morality. The film confronts — through a subversion of old-fashioned and futuristic genres and settings— frankenstein-level ethics in the same swoop as sexual taboo. In this chaotic transcendence of what is ‘right’ and ‘wrong’, there are no boundaries which cannot be crossed or opinions adorned with heavier importance than others. Moreover, there is no critique about the film’s vulgarity, which can be taken seriously. Poor Things opens up the opportunity for the main character, Bella, played by Emma Stone, to confront and whimsically reject the gendered expectations thrust upon her.

While the storyline has been called perverted or merely an excuse for outrageous smut, Poor Things captures female sexual discovery in a way that is uniquely open, intentionally non-heteronormative and inspiringly unashamed. What the film achieves in this way is contradictory to most, if not all, previous media I’ve seen. As a small criticism, the queerness in this film contributes merely a portion of sexual representation in Bella’s journey, which rather concerns itself with sex and sexual exploitation by men. It is nonetheless an indispensable piece of her story.

Queer representation in the media has evolved in some valuable ways to capture the diversity and complexity of rainbow communities, but there’s always further to go. While these are just some of my personal favourite examples, not all queer characters in contemporary film and television are positive or unproblematic. It’s important to be critically and actively engaged with queer media in order to uplift marginalised voices and, where possible, to celebrate the artists making powerful contributions to queer cinema.

TW: Sex, Sexuality, Masturbation

When I was 12 and deeper in the closet than those kids from Narnia, I looked up the definition of sex. The first result that came from my good friend Google was: “When a man sticks his penis inside a woman’s vagina”.

If this is what sex is, then by this standard, I am still a virgin.

What I learnt when I grew older, is that ‘sex’ is subjective, as there is no definition that can classify what it really is, what it’s supposed to include, and why you’re supposed to include it.

Side sex is a concept popular within gay communities (especially on ‘dating apps’ such as Grindr, Scruff, Growlr, etc.) that individuals can identify with, which emphasises sexual encounters without penetration.

This can include but is not limited to oral sex, mutual masturbation, rimming, frotting, docking, hand jobs, footjobs, licking, pashing, kink-related contact, and anything that does not include a penis inside a hole of some capacity.

The term is relatively new, only appearing in the last decade or so. The term ‘side’ was popularised by American, queer sex therapist, Dr Joe Kort in 2013, in the article “Guys on the ‘Side’: Looking Beyond Gay Tops and Bottoms”. Kort had dubbed the term to normalise and destigmatise gay men who don’t want to engage in anal sex.

Despite being popularised within the gay community, the term is yet to be used actively within other communities.

A lot of people would probably dub side sex as ‘foreplay,’ but with foreplay, there’s always the expectation that this is the ‘fore,’ and that penetration would be included in the package that is ‘sex’ — but it doesn’t have to be.

Why do people

have side sex?

There are a multitude of reasons why people choose not to have penetrative sex.

For gay AMAB (assigned male at birth) individuals who have anal sex, there’s an element of preparation that needs to occur for penetrative sex; sex can’t necessarily be as spontaneous as one would wish. This also extends to anyone who’s a fan of anal intercourse.

Douching for most couples is a necessity, expelling the waste that lays dormant in the rectum (unless you’re into scat, that is), and lube is vital for a pleasant, comfortable experience. If you meet the individual of your dreams (in my case, Henry Cavill building a PC in that one video) at a club, it’s not exactly like you can get briefly railed in the bathroom unless you have prepared beforehand.

Penetrative sex may be intimidating and cause erectile dysfunctions, or your partner may have a dick size equivalent to the Burj Khalifa, and despite you wanting to take it, you simply can’t.

If you have a vagina, you may suffer from vaginismus or endometriosis: both conditions which make penetration extremely painful and practically impossible, whether that’s a penis, strapon, or even fingers.

You may be concerned about unintentionally conceiving a child, or an STI scare (if you are having unprotected sex, whether through vaginal sex, anal sex, or even oral sex).

Or simply, you just don’t want to have penetrative sex, and that

is also completely understandable.

A personal story.

Before I continue with this Wattpad self-insert type memoir, I need to clarify that side sex doesn’t need to be a means to an end. I am someone who enjoys both penetrative and non-penetrative sex, with side sex helping to accustom me to bottoming once again. However, side sex can always just be side sex, your partner must understand that and respect that boundary!

To begin: I’m technically in a three-year situationship, which I know is cuckoo bananas, but hey, we’re both fine with it for our personal reasons.

Anyway, when we first started seeing each other through the very romantic app known to many as Grindr, he advertised himself as vers bottom (someone who likes to receive more than give, but isn’t exclusively the receiver, if that makes sense), and myself, vers (someone who likes to give and receive equally).

This worked out well for both of us; he could get ploughed by twink dick (now otter dick) as much as he wanted, and I, someone who had bottomed previously and enjoyed it, yet was a little intimidated by initiating it again, could fuck to my heart’s content.

Our sex had always been top-tier, but we wanted to switch things up a little.

In the past six months or so, our dynamic swiftly started to change; he wanted to top me, and I wanted to take it.

Remember how I mentioned the Burj Khalifa earlier? Yeah well, he has his own Burj; Mary Shelly couldn’t have described something as threatening when writing Frankenstein in 1818, fuck, I don’t even think dick sizes existed like that back then. The girth alone of his pesky python is similar to a 250ml can of V.

We originally attempted but suffice to say we didn’t see the fruits of our labour; I was being split in half, and he, hating to see me in such pain, struggled to maintain a boner.

So back to square one we went, both of us still wanting to try top and bottom for each other.

We started in positions mirroring myself being topped without the dick-in-ass component: I was on my back with my legs over his shoulders, him looking over me, mutually wanking together. Fuck this was hot. I really, really wanted to do this.

Later, we would start with basic rimming, and eventually fingering. I started getting used to the feeling of something inserted inside of me, and we both started to understand our bodies and the boundaries that accompany them.

The toys then came out: dildos, buttplugs, and even a vibrator were shoved into me (not all at once, of course), with him in positions imitating movements that it was his shaft and not a bit of silicone. I started to loosen up gradually, which aided in building trust between this somewhat newfound dynamic of him being

the top, and me the bottom.

I am proud to say that as of two weeks ago, I successfully bottomed for him for the first time! Despite a bit of pain, we understood our barriers and what works for us with clear, active communication. We both came pretty swiftly after that.

In conclusion

Side sex is a prominent and active part of gay culture. Side sex is not something that everyone wants, but for me, I love side sex and will continue to engage in sexual encounters without the promise of me having to insert my penis inside of someone, or someone inserting theirs inside me.

In my experience, ensuring that the sex you will be having with a partner is solely side sex alleviates most worries that come with penetrative sex. It cultivates more of a relaxing environment where the intimacy is great and sexy, and neither of us feels pressured to do anything outside of our comfort zone. It has helped me understand my body more, interpret my kinks, what parts of my body are the most sensitive, and what sexual acts I want, and don’t want to do. To this day, the most intimate and beautiful sex I have ever had is without a penis inside my asshole.

I recommend you try it out. Whether it’s with your partner, a situationship, a friend with benefits, or a simple hookup, side sex just may be right for you.

Written

By

Pen Name

(an AMAB they/them) CONTRIBUTING WRITER

Illustration By Issy Mason CONTRIBUTING ILLUSTRATOR

‘Women, Woes

Weezer?

In the Sex Issue? Say it ain’t so!

But yes, it is so, and I swear there’s a good reason. Weezer is often seen by the public as a bastion of perpetual virginity. However, there is much more to the sexual frustration expressed in Weezer’s discography than one might originally realise. This is especially apparent in the band’s second outing, ‘Pinkerton’.

The story of Weezer’s sophomore release has been told to death, but to summarise, their first album, Weezer (the blue album), was responded to with massive critical and commercial success. The frontman of the band, Rivers Cuomo, had finally reached his lifelong dream of becoming a rock star - except it wasn’t enough. He was unsatisfied. He was living his fantasy, yet the constant stream of women, fame, and fortune somehow wasn’t as gratifying as he thought it would be.

After this shattering realisation, his new fantasy became escaping his public life and studying classical music at an Ivy League school. But when he was accepted at Harvard, he once again found that his dreams didn’t match reality. Before enrollment, Cuomo had undergone an excruciating leg lengthening procedure to correct a birth defect that had caused his left leg to grow shorter than his right. This procedure forced him to wear a metal brace and walk with a cane. Additionally, he lived alone in a single dorm, and due to his intense workload, he had almost no free time to write music, which in the past had served as one of his only ways to escape from reality. The combination of these aspects left him feeling isolated, in extreme pain and once again disappointed.

This is how Pinkerton was born. A response to his life becoming a monkey’s paw. He achieved everything he wanted but remained profoundly unhappy.

As a result of this, there are points in which the lyricism in Pinkerton reflects Cuomos’ deep repressed urges, to the point in which some may find a few excerpts from this album somewhat… disturbing.

Okay. I’ll stop beating around the bush. To put it bluntly, Pinkerton is a bit of a misogynistic album. Sure, objectifying women has been a fixture of rock music since its inception, but within Pinkerton, the objectification is rooted in desperation rather than conquest. Rivers constantly laments over his romantic blunders and feelings of sexual frustration, toxic relationships, and rejection become core themes of the record.

This mindset is pathetically emulated in the lyrics on the album. The most infamous of which is probably:

“I wonder what clothes you wear to school; I wonder how you decorate your room.

I wonder how you touch yourself and curse myself for being across the sea”

[Rivers is referring to an 18-year-old Japanese high schooler]

Others include

“Everyone’s a little queer

Can’t she be a little straight?

I’m dumb, she’s a lesbian” and of course

“Goddamn you half-Japanese girls

Do it to me every time

Oh, the redhead said you shred the cello

And I’m jello, baby.”

These interesting lyrical choices… have justifiably led to the album being seen by many as an ‘incel anthem’. Although the blue album has definite hints of incel energy, (particularly in the song ‘No one else’), a cheery tone masks the less marketable sides of the album. But Pinkerton has no mask, no sweater, unravelled, and completely naked. In listening to it we are peering straight into another’s subconscious and being disturbed at what we find.

But to at least some degree, isn’t music about honesty? Hasn’t everyone heard a track that you feel captures an aspect of yourself as a person that you could muster the courage to illustrate before? These lyrics might make you recoil in cringe, but I’m sure everyone who is reading this possesses at least a few majorly cringe-inducing memories that appear only in dreams, to haunt you every day.

Pinkerton isn’t about hating women or seeing them as lesser, it’s about struggling with your own insecurity. It is self-aware in the sense that the author is the one who is sabotaging his own attempts at finding happiness, which is why I’m not sure if ‘incel’ is a fair label for Pinkerton

Although nothing in the term ‘involuntary celibate’ itself suggests bigotry, the ‘incel’ label has been adopted by a group of men who share a vague ideology. This ideology is known for resenting young women for their alleged insatiable promiscuity, as well as forming rigid stereotypes that they use to organise

Woes & Weezer’

society in a way that allows them to reach the highest level of self pity imaginable. Sure, an incel might loathe themselves, but usually this isn’t a result of self reflection, but rather a product of believing that they will never possess the physical characteristics or social skills that make someone ‘sexually successful’.

Music that appeals to this hopelessly nihilistic attitude includes artists like Negative XP, who create songs such as ‘Scott Pilgrim vs. the World Ruined a Whole Generation of Women’ and ‘Life is An RPG and I Fucked Up My Build’. NXP’s catalogue is full of songs that depict self-hatred and disappointment, but only rarely does he ever divulge from incel dogma and address the real problem, the reason why he feels estranged from the social fabric is his own actions and outlook. These songs are completely fine with describing the flaws of others in detail, however, it can become a sort of black hole of negativity when explaining his hatred for himself, and his desperate wish to have the social skills that others possess so he could fit into the society that rejects him. This lack of self-awareness and deep despair is what can turn being rejected into an ever-present obsession with your insecurities. It’s a self-imposed limit of understanding and commitment to close-mindedness that leaves those with an incel mindset drifting ever further from the shore of social reality.

This is why I love Pinkerton. Yes, it’s unfiltered, and if I pay attention to the lyrics I might cringe at specific lines, but the album uses these moments of raw honesty to illustrate a message that every lonely and resentful teen needs to hear. Your sexual frustration and isolation aren’t predetermined by a set of rigid rules that leave you excluded from society - it’s your attitude. If you get rejected, don’t take it personally. No one is universally liked, and you won’t like everyone, but no matter who you are, there will be people who genuinely want to know you and care for you. Pinkerton might be relatable in the worst of times, but it can also serve as a wake-up call and a reminder that self pity isn’t a substitute for introspection.

I recommend giving Pinkerton a shot. It has crunchy guitars, uniquely beautiful riffs and heartfelt confessions from a young man who is lost in a confusing mess of a world.

To quote the album’s opener ‘Tired of sex’…

“I’m tired, so tired”.

Written By

William Lyall (he/him)

@willis.davies__

CONTRIBUTING WRITER

Illustration By Scarlett (she/her) @scarlett_k_illustrations

CONTRIBUTING ILUSTRATOR

Written by Liam Hansen (they/them)

EDITOR

Beth Torrance is bringing you tiny flowers

Aotearoa is often highlighted for it’s natural beauty - the grandness of Lake Tekapo, the tranquil glow-worms of Ruakuri Cave, the vibrant sunset skies that only ever seem to exist in a Pak n’ Save parking lot are some of the core reasons tourists tend to visit our corner of the globe. Similarly, our creative exports see artists from around the motu punching far above our weight by breaking into international charts, playlists, and festivals on a yearly basis.

These aspects come together in the music of Beth Torrance (she/they). Having been releasing music since she was seventeen and writing it for years before that, Beth echoes images of the various landscapes and environments she grew up in throughout the years, from the seaside of Thames to the forests of Helensville. In early 2022, she independently released her debut album ‘let’s move to the seaside and never feel lonely again’, catching the attention of LA based Cool Adjacent Management, and Particle Recordings in Tāmaki Makaurau.

They’ve just released their first single since their debut release, “Tiny Flowers” - carrying on the atmosphere of her early releases while embracing her growing list of resources and letting the songs grow into something more. We caught up to chat about the release, her upcoming EP, and more.

Liam

So, feel free to introduce yourself and your music to the readers that aren't familiar with your work.

Beth

I'm Beth Torrance, and I make indie folk. I'm a big fan of artists such as Joni Mitchell and Elliott Smith. A lot of my music is rooted in a connection to nature - in my songs, you'll see quite a few ocean references and nostalgic stuff like that.

Liam

Is that where some of your new track, ‘Tiny Flowers’ originated?

Beth

Yeah, I wrote it when I was still living on the Coromandel Peninsula in Thames. There was this hill by my house, and in spring it would be covered with these tiny yellow and white flowers. And I always found that so wonderful and mythical. If my first album was about coming to terms with the end of things, maybe the EP is more about the wake afterwards.

Liam

That album, let’s move to the seaside and never feel lonely again, came out about two years ago. How do you think that your sound has evolved since that release, or at the very least, since you were writing the songs from ‘let's move to the seaside’?

Beth

The first album was written and recorded almost entirely in my room, so it was a very organic approach. I felt very close to those songs and their evolution. I worked with Karl Steven to produce and re-record a couple

of them, which was a really great experience. For the upcoming EP, a lot more has been done in the studio - a few songs were re-recorded, sometimes just portions, while tracks like ‘oh, isn’t it so beautiful this life’ and ‘corridor’, were live takes. I always want to be true to that vision that I have when I'm first making a demo of a song, but I don't want to hold myself back from experimenting in different ways and using what the studio can give you.

Liam

It was recorded at Bigpop Studios based up here in Tāmaki Makaurau, and released through their new imprint Particle Recordings. What has it been like to switch from being entirely independent, both in recording and releasing, and now being on an indie label?

Beth

It's really lovely to have that community element. When you're putting things out independently, even though it's a great experience, it's just more difficult to run all of the admin and organization and stuff. Whereas working with the team at Bigpop, and Particle Recordings, there's just sort of that support system, and people you can bounce ideas off. It's just less of a solitary venture and more of a communal effort.

Liam

A lot of these were written back when you were still in Thames - now you're back in the Helensville area of Tamaki Makaurau. How do you think the different environments that you've been in over the past few years have kind of influenced your songwriting?

Beth

Thames is a seaside town, so I was really connected to the ocean, the environment, the dark hills behind the town and stuff. It was all very formative for me. I think the landscape sort of just made its way into my songs, through a stream of consciousness. I think, coming back to Tāmaki Makaurau, the tone of my songs may have changed a little in that I'm making more guitar driven songs with the intention for more of a band sound. I think that the tracks on the EP carry the tone from the tracks on the album, but I have developed in the way that I play guitar and approach songwriting. I work a lot in open tunings now, like open D, so I think most of the songs on this release experiment in that realm.

Liam

Is there anyone else you’ve been working with on the EP?

Beth

I've collaborated with Chris Riddell, who is the political cartoonist for The Observer and has worked with artists such as Neil Gaiman and Phoebe Bridgers. He has illustrated the cover for the EP, and done an illustration for each of the songs which is very cool. They emulate various fairy talelike and gothic drawings that I feel perfectly embody the spirit and ethos of not only the EP, but just the music that I find myself making.

You can find Beth's music on her Bandcamp page or your preferred streaming platform. Keep up to date with the release of her upcoming EP through Instagram: @beth.torrance

Illustration By Sahana Vijayaraghavan (she/her)