The Queer Frontier II

Just as the fathers of the Roman Catholic Church were getting ready to elect a new pope, the Independent, a respected UK newspaper, reported that the Vatican had purchased a $30 million share of a Roman apartment block that houses the Europa Multiclub, reputed to be Europe’s most famous gay sauna. 

The newspaper published an article two days before the papal election stating that the holy fathers had purchased the property in 2008, including the club and 19 Vatican apartments, many of which house priests. One of the church’s top cardinals, Ivan Dias, head of the Congregation for Evangelization of Peoples, lives in a 12-room apartment “yards from the ground floor entrance to the steamy flesh pot,” the newspaper said. Dias voted in last month’s papal election. 

It’s as if the church has denied sex so aggressively and for so long, the association is now impossible to miss. From what I’m learning about the Catholic leadership’s philosophy of sex, male homosexuality is considered so dangerous because it’s an allegedly impossible temptation to resist. I guess that idea would extend all the way to the Vatican’s real estate investment team.

Visiting the club’s website, I learned that Europa Multiclub (EMC) is connected to “the largest gay Italian organization, working to uphold the civil rights of homosexuals, in particular their right to demonstrate their personal identity. We stand up against every form of racism and prejudice. EMC pays particular attention in advising members on both their physical and mental health. We also distribute information about sexual health. At EMC we want you to be yourself and respect others.” 

The Independent mused over whether Cardinal Dias, the church’s chief of recruitment, “has popped downstairs to give spiritual guidance to the clients of the Europa Multiclub, given his belief that gays and lesbians can be cured of their ‘unnatural tendencies’ through the ‘sacrament of penance.'” 

Or maybe he just visits his neighbors to collect the rent, then stays for a smoothie, steam bath, and massage once in a while. What’s funnier, the investment is a tax write-off for the Vatican. “There was further embarrassment for the Holy See when the press observed that thanks to generous tax breaks it received from the last Berlusconi government, the church will have avoided hefty payments to the Italian state,” the Independent reported. “The properties are recognized as part of the Holy City.” 

Were I writing this in a fiction story, I would be rather pleased with myself for coming up with something so ironic. But this is not irony; irony is a literary device. This is the universe talking. And what the universe is saying is that there’s a fabulous gay bathhouse right on Vatican property. 

Actually, from the perspective of metaphysics, it makes sense. Jung would love this story—he would he howling with laughter. What both institutions—the Europa Multiclub and the Vatican—have in common is that women aren’t welcome there. That fact may have its roots in fear, antipathy, or mistrust. The Catholic Church and its tenant have a kind of polar-opposite relationship. With the church, sex must be kept in the closet. With the EMC, everything is designed to be out of the closet. It’s as if the Vatican has a geyser on the premises to help relieve the unbearable pressure of all that has been denied, and that some of its ministers so badly want.

Still, I think we can do better in terms of being real. Sexuality does not have to be a matter of extremes; a continuum with two polarities—pious and utterly wild. Most of us are somewhere between those manifestations, but where, exactly? In looking for your location on the erotic map, I don’t think those are necessarily going to be helpful points of orientation.

In last month’s column, I described a number of modes of sexuality that are not among the usual options told to kids. These included being friendly to sex and sexuality, the willingness to have any conversation. I also included self-sexuality (being one’s own lover as a primary relationship), polyamory and nontraditional family structure (various forms of open relationship with integrity), being single, bisexuality and being gender fluid, and the option of being asexual or non-practicing.

All of these forms of relationship exist in contrast to the one permitted, sanctioned and official mode of connecting—monogamy, that is, having one partner. Remember that the definition of monogamy has changed in less than 50 years from one partner for life, to one partner as often as you feel like changing. The latter form of relationship is often called “serial monogamy,” though I prefer to think of it as “serial polyamory,” since it definitely involves multiple partners, but in sequence.

A few days after last month’s edition came out, I received a letter from a reader that read in part:

I am writing to say that there is another form of sexuality that I think you may not be aware of. That is, the use of karezza, Daoist, or tantric methods to explore the infinity within a partnership of two people. Every person is an infinitely complex microcosm.

Sex using what is sometimes termed “dual angelic cultivation” is both sensually and emotionally, deeply satisfying and beautiful. Yet it is a sort of spiritual practice that requires discipline and deep emotional generosity. It creates a profound sense of intimacy, yet most people are too obsessed with shallower, quicker, sort of “efficient” sexual practices to even attempt a karezza relationship.

I posit that even monogamous, heterosexual sex is still a frontier that in itself has barely been explored. Some of us still want to make new discoveries in that field. So don’t we have a place in your pantheon, too?

I get these letters from time to time, from well-meaning defenders of the monogamous faith. At first I thought I disagreed with her position. My article was about being different, not doing something that’s brainwashed into kids with the “chastity pledge,” protected by the Defense of Marriage Act, and upheld by various amendments to state constitutions. My only objections to monogamy are when it’s mandatory, and when it’s not true. No two surveys say exactly the same thing, except that there are many people who consider themselves monogamous who have sex with more than one person.

There’s also a factual issue with the letter, which is that the forms of sex she’s describing are not inherently about monogamy. Karezza, or sex where the man does not ejaculate, developed as a way that a man can handle having 20 wives, all of whom he must in some way satisfy sexually. This is related to Daoist practice (they don’t think men should “waste” their chi, or vital force), but this is generally not an issue in couples where sex is mainly for reproduction.

As for tantra, at its core, this approach is about violating the rules of supposedly moral (or socially acceptable) conduct more than it is about following them. Tantra is about actual growth, which means coming out of one’s mental and emotional boxes, stretching out, and experiencing things other than what one’s beliefs would otherwise permit.

Tantric practice can involve people of different castes being paired up (who would never normally have sex, as the lower caste can be considered “unclean”). There are tantric practices that involve vegetarians eating meat, people drinking alcohol or experimenting with drugs when these things are forbidden, and experiencing forms of sexual contact that they would never reveal to mother (or their husband or wife).

Westernized ideas about tantra can sometimes make it seem like it’s the thing that perfect couples do to be even more perfect, which is a lot to live up to. (An easier approach is to eat Nature Valley Granola Bars.) Often, tantra in the New Age style is given the Holy Seal of Monogamy, but that just makes it acceptable to people influenced by religion and social conditioning—which is what tantra is designed to subvert.

Tantra is not about sex. It’s about a direct relationship to existence that fully embraces sex and sexuality, and takes that spirit into whatever else one does. Tantra is a holistic approach to existence that includes everything. This is difficult to relate in a world where many people think that sex is this itch you scratch, hopefully in the way that evokes the least possible vulnerability, and then you get on with your life.

After a dialog with the reader, however, I had evolved in my thinking, and decided to add two modalities to my notion of the Frontier of Queer. The first is for monogamous couples who are that way by choice. If you consider yourself monogamous, you’ll need to figure out if this is really by choice. Of course, you may think it is, but have other options ever been put on the table?

I suggest you consider the consequences if were to have some non-monogamous experience, or even share the desire to do so. What if you opened up the conversation of wanting to experience sex with a friend, or wanting a nonexclusive relationship? Would your world fall apart? Then you’re unlikely to be monogamous by choice. If you are terrified of jealousy or of your partner’s jealousy, you don’t really have viable options.

But some people are happy with their partner doing whatever they want, and vice versa; but they opt to be exclusive with each other. For those who are monogamous by choice, well, you’re as queer as anyone, and you deserve a place on the Queer Frontier. In that case, you’ll be unlikely to tell anyone else they’re “doing it wrong,” or that they don’t really understand monogamy. You’ll affirm whatever anyone you care about chooses.

The other thing that came out of the conversation was the idea of including those for whom sexuality is an approach to existence. I mean tantra in the true sense of the idea, but unfortunately tantra is a loaded word, and many sources of information are inaccurate. It’s often a gimmick to sell a “spiritualized” or “sacred” version of sex.

So I will describe what the experience might be like. You recognize that you are part of nature, and that sex is part of nature, and that therefore you are free to choose whatever you want; or at least choose from among whatever options you have. This begins with a conscious, loving relationship with yourself. At some point you make a choice to include yourself and fully occupy your life. You strive to know and accept yourself so you can know and accept others.

You treat sex as an honored teacher. It can be found in almost any aspect of life; people—nearly all people—are curious about others, and sexual curiosity is profound. Sex as a teacher would encourage curiosity and its counterpart, honesty.

Holistic sexuality is about making peace with every aspect of yourself, your feelings, your desires, your history, your potential, and your shadow material. Shadow material is any fear, guilt, shame, denial, rage, or sense of chaos (among other experiences) in the presence of love and creativity. Light and life are beautiful, and then there is shadow material. Being sexually holistic means that you are in a conscious process of making peace with your shadow.

Sexual shadow can include everything I’ve described above, as well as “darker” desires, the sensation of abandonment or rejection, the need to experiment (sometimes radically) and embracing other potential sexual orientations that you contain. If you can address shadow material, you are open to intimacy.

The persistent question about the relationship between sex and intimacy points to one fact: the two are connected. Unless someone runs, kicks, screams, or goes into radical denial, sex brings us closer. And it’s that closeness that’s essential to holistic sexuality. I don’t mean attachment. I mean contact, bonding, and the freedom to love freely within the infinite web of life.

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The Queer Frontier

This article appears in April 2013.