What is perverted? It seems that perversion exists in relation to an acceptable norm, a “societal line”. But who draws the line? Sometimes it’s society that dictates what is acceptable in relation to other members of a community. But other times, the arbiter of whether something is perverted or not is oneself only – this is made apparent by the existence of taboo in the privacy of one’s thoughts – some thoughts disgust us even if our private thoughts are of no consequence to others. This suggests that perversion is not only defined by society, but also informed by our personal views.
The “societal line” is drawn from an average of our own respective, private norms. When we define for ourselves a comfortable life, we hope that the rest of society operates in a way that allows each and one of us to pursue it. But the definition of dignity and comfort for ourselves changes overtime – some are motivated by processes like aging, others are quick, like an epiphany.
This explains why the societal line is in constant flux, but also, why they move more slowly than the personal one. An extreme change in perspective for one member of society can only move the societal norm so much.
To me, the perversions held by others are undeniably, endlessly fascinating – I want to know everyone’s kinks. When people share something about themselves that goes against the societal norm, that’s an act of vulnerability, of trust. But also, it’s an opportunity for me to question and interrogate my own norms.
In no particular order, I’d like to present to you three “perverts” – three people I’m in love with, because they shared with me their truth, their perversion, their vulnerability, while surprising me with a perspective that seemed absurd at first, but understandable later. They fill me with hope that perspectives can always be shifted to for all of us to empathize with others.
Our first “pervert” wrote this:
“I haunted dark alleys and hidden retreats, where I might be able to expose myself to women in the condition in which I should have liked to have been in their company. What they saw was not an obscene object, I never even thought of such a thing; it was a ridiculous object. The foolish pleasure I took in displaying it before their eyes cannot be described.”
Who is this disgusting, but also honest man? Well, he’s a pioneer in child-centered learning, a philosopher, the author of The Social Contract, the one and only Jean-Jacques Rousseau!
The above is an excerpt from Confessions, in which he also admits to being a kleptomaniac, visiting prostitutes, and having a very liberal understanding of fidelity. Writing this candidly was a shock to many, but by being so radically vulnerable to his readers by confessing so much about his immoral thoughts, he inspired many other writers such as Wordsworth and De Quincey to write revealing autobiographies of their own, eventually earning him the title of “the Father of Romanticism”. After his death, he was practically deified, with altars and memorials built to honor his legacy, warts and all.
But is it really so surprising that he was a pervert? He argued, in a world where monarchs ruled for hundreds of years, for the consent of the governed. That’s perverted and subversive. Ursula K. Le Guin wrote, “We live in capitalism, its power seems inescapable — but then, so did the divine right of kings. Any human power can be resisted and changed by human beings.” Perhaps the next thought leader in revolutionary thinking, that will move humanity past capitalism, will have sexual proclivities that disgust us too. The motivation to challenge sexual mores is perhaps the very same motivation that challenges social order. After all, aren’t sexual standards one of the most fundamental social structures we uphold as a society?
What a lovely pervert.
My second “pervert” I love said this:
“I saw in his hand a long spear of gold, and at the iron’s point there seemed to be a little fire. He appeared to me to be thrusting it at times into my heart, and to pierce my very entrails; when he drew it out, he seemed to draw them out also, and to leave me all on fire with a great love of God. The pain was so great that it made me moan; and yet so surpassing was the sweetness of this excessive pain…”
That’s Saint Teresa of Ávila, a Spanish religious mystic from the 1500s on her account of being overwhelmed by religious ecstasy. Some argue that this was describing masturbation, a sin in the eyes of the Catholic church. Taking this view, it is quite awe inspiring that she was able to publish writing that described such a personal, revealing sin in titillating detail, at a time where women had very little rights. She was not only writing and publishing work, but work that can be considered extremely controversial, while working within the patriarchal framework of organized religion. This is the reason some feminist scholars consider Saint Teresa of Ávila an early radical feminist.
Religion serving as a Trojan horse for bringing sexually explicit work to be publicly presented and able to receive funding from conservative sources has long been a facet of art. The above quote, for example, allowed Gian Lorenzo Bernini to sculpt the Ecstasy of Saint Teresa, an altarpiece in the Cornaro Chapel of the church of Santa Maria del la Vittoria in Rome. This is his interpretation of the quote from Saint Teresa, and many art critics agree that the depiction is overtly sexual. The sexual undertones are undeniable–Saint Teresa lies facing upward, her big toe curled, her eyes seem to flutter in ecstasy as her mouth lets out a moan. Bernini was able to carve and present a moaning woman in marble to be displayed at a church for centuries to come. But religion allowed Bernini to have plausible deniability–the same plausible deniability that also allowed Saint Teresa of Ávila to publicly describe sexual ecstasy while eventually being canonized as a Saint.
The third “pervert” I’m in love with, I saw performing at the Edinburgh Fringe this year.
His name is Garry Starr (the alter ego of the actor Damien Warren-Smith). A brilliant clown, classically trained at the legendary Philippe Gaulier school of clowning in France, he performed an entire one-hour clown show, in front of 500 people, completely nude.
In clown, they call what he was able to achieve complicité: a state where the clown proposes an element of the show (e.g. being nude), and the audience agrees, or is complicit with it. Depending on the clown’s offer, achieving complicité is hard. Being nude for an entire hour, from the very beginning of the show? That is a very difficult offer for a clown to gain complicité with the audience, but Starr was able to masterfully achieve it through his material and charming presentation.
By the end of the show, he crowd surfs across 500 audience members completely in the nude!
Talk about recontextualizing what is perverse! Talk about shifting the “societal line”! For an hour, Starr was able to transport us to another context, another world, where his being nude was normal, even celebrated. By the end of the hour, when he was outside shaking hands, and taking selfies, now wearing a pair of briefs, it looked weird that he wasn’t in the nude. To call Starr a pervert would be wrong, as he was able to shift our idea of what ought to be acceptable, and made his otherwise perverted act socially acceptable. But if I took his actions out of context, and simply described a man who delighted in taking off his clothes in front of 500 strangers, you would say he is definitely perverted. Perversion is simply contextual, and complicité is the context building that allows Starr to be celebrated and not ostracized.
All three people, Rousseau, Saint Teresa, and Starr are all celebrated within the context of the history of the Enlightenment, Counter-Reformation, and a Scottish Fringe Festival. But place them in a different one, and all three appear extremely perverted. It speaks to a possibility that no one is actually perverted as long as we can provide the correct context.
Now, we live in a world where digital algorithms are generating infinite contexts, attempting to put us all into different advertiser friendly groups, separating us into ideological silos, and strengthening our resolve to only interact with those who share our respective values and contexts. This makes it very difficult for us to be aware of our biases, and makes it easier for us to label those who don’t share our contexts as perverse. In light of this meta-context of having personalized content bombarding our attention, it’s increasingly important for us to examine what we perceive as perverted to us, in order to uncover our unconscious bias, and start to question, with healthy skepticism, our convictions that may have been polarized through algorithmically generated content feeds.
To me, learning about Rousseau being an exhibitionist, how a marble statue depicting Saint Teresa of Ávila writhing in ecstasy is displayed in a church, and seeing a man crowd surf 500 people while completely naked and be cheered for it, directly challenged my perception of what is perverted. Or, in other words, it opened my eyes to contexts in which these acts of perversion can be celebrated. Determining where the line is drawn between perversion and social acceptance is also an exercise in understanding our own context. And acknowledging that the definition of perversion is malleable, is an opportunity for us to expand our empathy across political, religious, gender, and other categorical divides.
Are you a little perverted? Well, so is everyone in one context or another. Sharing our perversions, and learning to accept others’ is one way we can begin to create art and a more empathetic society. At the very least, I’d love to hear yours, so I can fall a little in love with you.