Rebecca Martinson, "the deranged sorority girl" who introduced the term "cunt punt" to the lexicon this year, is now a published author. The University of Maryland student has been making regular appearances on bro-breeding grounds like Total Frat Move and Bro Bible with columns like, "How to Get Better Head From Your Slam." That delicate manifesto urges men seeking better oral sex to "say something insulting" and "pull her hair when you do it, because in the end your goal is to increase her worth to men." Which: What?
As a young woman who occasionally writes about sex for a male audience, I'm not offended by Martinson giving sex advice to the masses so much as her urging of men (or "bros") to be violent towards women. As a disclaimer at the end of that article, Martinson indicates she's being "sarcastic," but that sarcasm might be lost on her audience. Even if Martinson is taking on an embellished persona, the medium is still the message. Sites like Total Frat Move and Barstool Sports have established a reputation for derogatory-bordering-on-sociopathic stances towards women, and Martinson does nothing to distance herself from that ideology. At all. In fact, she's taking on that voice, leaving us to assume she shares that same misogynistic viewpoint. If, like me, you're looking for any reason to step to Martin's defense as an even marginally self-aware human, her latest gem published on Vice this weekend, "My First Double Blowjob," doesn't do that defense any favors.
If college girls skip Eve Ensler and subscribe to Martinson's Twitter feed instead, they might be fooled into thinking that this is what sexual empowerment looks like."
If anything, it only serves to draw a distinction between Martinson and others who are writing on sex. Dan Savage has long advocated embracing fetishes and being "game for anything" in his column Savage Love. Blogger Karley Sciortino of Sluteverurges women to do "what makes you feel good." But neither are writing about salacious subjects solely for audacity's sake. Instead, they're celebrating sexuality and all the weirdness it entails. And that's great.
But it's not great when, like Martinson's done, women exploit their sexuality for our approval, because they're on the losing side of that deal.
And Martinson isn't alone in her misadventures. Vodka Samm traded her chances at finding gainful employment post-college for a handle of vodka, and a young girl from Britain resorted to slut-shaming herself in exchange for bragging rights as "Britain's Horniest Student."
Why are women trading self-respect for rewards this petty? Because they don't seem so small in an age where influence is more sought after than money. Martinson has three columns and counting, 11K followers on Twitter, and a forthcoming book on a Simon & Schuster imprint. She's offering up this crude brand of Tucker Max-esque sexuality because it's paying off.
If college girls skip Eve Ensler and subscribe to Martinson's Twitter feed instead, they might be fooled into thinking that this is what sexual empowerment looks like:
Only, it's not funny when you make that joke at your own expense—because doing so is at the expense of other women, too. Women cracking jokes about taking three dicks and bragging about double blow jobs until they've gained a social media following and a column on the Internet is something that may read as fame and success to a generation using social media "likes" to measure self-worth. Do really we want women like Martinson to be the new face of sexual liberation?
Look: I'm not a prude, nor am I against double blow jobs on principle. But there's something to be said for nuance, like the difference between speaking frankly about enjoying sex as a means of expressing sexual confidence vs. shilling out your sexuality for a few RTs.
Do we want women like Martinson to be the new face of sexual liberation?
Not to say she's "deranged," as Gawker first labeled her, but our go-to assumption when women write things like this—
None
—is to wonder if she actually knows what she's doing.
Even if we humor Martinson's assertion that she's being "sarcastic," does that excuse her encouraging men to pursue women with low-self esteem? You can't just write that off as satire. While there's a danger in shaming women who express their sexuality, planting awful, sadistic seeds—even in jest—is warping what sexual freedom really means.
When a young, attractive girl in the middle of her college years writes an article about paying a friend in $15 worth of booze to give her boyfriend oral sex, who's to blame?
In short: We are. We gave her a platform, exalted her as an Internet personality, and followed her on Twitter. We gave her the social media seal of approval.
And she's not the first one we've "liked" simply for being scandalous. A recent example: Miley Cyrus, another young woman whose sexual bravado has thrust her into the spotlight (pun intended, of course). But, perhaps Martinson sums up the issue best herself:
Cyrus claiming ownership over her sexuality is wonderful. If Cyrus has suppressed her inner-ingénue and has only now came to a place where she feels brave enough to let her freak flag fly, it's worth supporting. But, if Miley decided to up the sexual ante for fame, her efforts are thrown in a harsh light of "patently misguided." Then again, can you blame her? Cyrus successfully jumpstarted her career's second life with a wagging tongue, an inappropriately placed foam finger, and sheer sexual moxie. We're the ones validating her relevance with every YouTube view.
Somehow, we've already sent Martin the message that being an Internet shock-jockey and writing about double blow jobs is the only way to get our attention. And, if the women in our lives are watching and thinking, "I CAN DO THAT" we've failed. For the sake of our siblings, friends, and lovers: There's gotta be a better way.
