My broken sex

David S. Wisener

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I don’t think “obsessed” is a strong enough word to describe our cultural relationship with sex.

We worship it.

And I am as guilty as anyone (contributing to the struggle I’m having with my tone as I write this).

We bow down at the feet of sex: to have mind-numbing, toe-curling sex however and as often as we can find it has become one of our most sacred pursuits.

Sex is so cherished that it has joined race and gender as one of our primary means of establishing identity.

As I hope has become clear throughout this blog, I think locating our identity in any physical / psychological trait is a drastic mistake with far-reaching, unintended consequences (not least of which are the walls and divisions we establish when we implicitly label different people as “other”).

As children of postmodernity, let’s deconstruct a false myth.

The idea that our social…

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