I can\u2019t recommend reading over 60 sex advice manuals. I spent several months doing this and it results in a particular combination of sadness, anger and frustration that I\u2019d rather never repeat.<\/p>\n
The reason for my painful few months was my new book, Mediated Intimacy: Sex Advice in Media Culture<\/a> with Rosalind Gill<\/a> and Laura Harvey<\/a>. The book explores the changing forms of \u201csexpertise\u201d and how they influence ideas and practises around sex. In addition to sex manuals, we studied blogs, magazines, reality TV shows such as Sex Box<\/a> (which actually gets people to have sex in a box), newspaper problem pages, websites, apps, and more.<\/p>\n We emphasise throughout our book that it\u2019s rarely a matter of any sex advice being all good or all bad. Rather, sexpertise often opens up some things \u2013 in terms of ways of understanding or experiencing sex \u2013 at the same time that it closes down others. And the same text has the potential to be read in different ways by different readers. For example, somebody might read sex advice to get ideas, to enjoy sexual images, to find humour in it \u2013 or a combination of these.<\/p>\n But it\u2019s also important to acknowledge just how deeply problematic the vast majority of mainstream sex advice is. Especially in this moment of #MeToo, and greater awareness of intersecting systems of privilege and oppression, it\u2019s most concerning how few texts even mention consent, and how many assume that sex equates to penis-in-vagina intercourse, often depicted by endless images of young, white, slim, non-disabled, normative male\/female couples.<\/p>\n When the panic around the messages young people receive about sex so often focuses on sexually explicit material, it\u2019s about time we turned our attention to the insidious and disturbing messages that people are receiving from materials which are supposedly designed to educate, inform, and advise about sex.<\/p>\n