Amia Srinivasan’s book ‘The Right to Sex’ is written to make the reader uncomfortable. As the title suggests, the book’s focus is ‘Sex’, written to question the critical assumption that sex as both an identity and an act is ‘pre-political’. Though in practice, both are political acts of discipline. Srinivasan sets this contextual and theoretical lens in the West and critically examines the themes of gender, racism, class, consent, pornography and sex work.
The debates on each theme in the book are no longer archaic. Srinivasan takes a unique lens and style of writing. The book is divided into six chapters; each situates a current debate revolving around sexuality and academically engages with critical challenges. As Srinivasan details in the fourth chapter, the focus is not on an institutional/structural response but on locating how an individual is implicated in the structural problem of disciplining sexuality. The book continues to dwell on the political acts that create private desires and acts for human beings.
The book begins with the practical challenge and academic response to the discourse on false charges and allegations. In the aftermath of the #MeToo movement, sexual harassment and assault charges were levied on men in powerful positions. These were acts that were public secrets; everyone knew, but no one acknowledged them until they had to. Most critiques of the movement levied the charge that #MeToo was dismantling not only patriarchy but also legal principles of due process and innocence until proven guilty. Srinivasan studies the discourse of the response of both ‘guilty’ and ‘not guilty’ men.
Other than acknowledging that the legal category of guilt could not respond to questions raised by #MeToo, she poignantly writes that the response indicates the fear of powerful men that they could no longer rest upon the state’s presence to protect their right to sex. The feminist movement has resulted in a political achievement where women can no longer be silenced. The quantum of women being raped is more than men being falsely accused; why does the latter hold greater cultural value? Srinivasan locates the answer in the growing demand and the state’s acceptance of women’s testimonies as is, given these powerful men now actively fear the institutional and legal responses to their acts, the failure of which had historically oppressed marginalized sections of the society. Thus, the concern is not of legal precepts but the recognition of the institutional failure of those very precepts.
The second theme the book explains is the contention around porn. New-age technology and massive unemployment during COVID-19 saw many young individuals participating in the porn industry. Here, the author recognizes that any response has to account for the fact that our current generation is a constituent of individuals whose sexual awakening happened directly or indirectly through porn. Given the cultural role the industry has come to play and its impact on further disciplining sex itself, instead, the response should be to reimagine sex education with an embedded sexual imagination.
In the third theme, the book reflects upon the difference between the position from which different bodies deal with the politics of desirability. Historically located politics have created specific bodies to be more sexually desirable, be it the trope of ‘petite east Asian women’ or the ‘Caucasian blonde’. Men who cannot access sex speak of their claim on these bodies, evidenced by public school shooting incidents to incel groups online. Srinivasan locates an alternative in the language of empowerment that redefines the very understanding of who is sexually desirable. The author focuses on the politics of the body, which is sexualized and disciplined into being made desirable. She points to the politics of LGBTQIA+ flag, expanding the conversation to all bodies are beautiful.
The fourth chapter is very interesting both in the writing style and content. The chapter gives 88 numerical points to respond to the ontological and epistemological questions revolving around political contentions on sexuality. Most importantly, the chapter responds to the critique that any solution to structural problems of sexuality that rely on the individual would again result in the equation of moralism and sex.
The fifth theme, and the most enticing of the chapters, problematizes consent. How empty and futile structural responses of affirmative consent could be? Not only does Srinivasan substantiate her concerns with examples from universities, but her focus also remains on teacher-student relationships. The author’s philosophy training kicks in when she makes an astute point that other than practical power difference, the relationship between a teacher and a student has a ‘metaphysical’ and ‘epistemic’ power differential. She draws an equivalence between a teacher-student and therapist-patient relationship. This equivalence relies on the assumption that the onus, like in therapy, lies with the teacher. For Srinivasan, this is because the lens of meaning-making employed by the teacher and therapist impacts that of the patient and student. While her larger discomfort with top-down approaches to certain legitimate or illegitimate relationships/ desires is a common thread throughout the book, this equivalence is paradoxical. The author begins this chapter with the aim for the reader to recognize that students are not feeble, irrational bodies. But her equivalence creates a relationship between the student-teacher, which can move towards a position of passivity, where the agency is constructed from the teacher’s lens. Her position and her solution still stand, though the equivalence seems false.
The sixth theme of the book is the carceral response to sex work. She wants feminists to acknowledge that the symbolic and the lived concerns of sex work are opposites. The decision must favor the latter if the debate is between making life better in the future pitted against a few bodies today. Srinivasan critiques the position of carceral feminists in banning sex work and institutionally excluding sex workers from the ambit of society. She points out that this position comes from the same lens as considering particular bodies more important than others.
All the themes are not to be read as separate disjunct debates on sexuality but as critical challenges that 21st Century feminism must respond to. The book’s last paragraph points to the inherent ‘paradox of powerlessness’: “collectivized, articulated and represented powerlessness can become powerful” (Srinivasan, 2021, p. 178). Feminists need to recognize that these challenges are the result of the power they have held. With this power comes the responsibility to respond to these challenges, which Srinivasan herself poignantly does.
Sakshi Sharda is an Editorial Consultant with Taylor and Francis, India and has completed her MPhil from the Centre for Political Studies, Jawaharlal Nehru University.
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