I haven’t told my mother yet that I’m writing a sex column. So congratulations, dear readers — all of you are the first to know. Welcome to Hump Day, The Badger Herald’s new Wednesday sex column. First, the important stuff. My name is Erica, and I am a program facilitator with Sex Out Loud, the campus sexual health organization. While this position gives me a solid knowledge base from which to address your questions — more on that later — I and the individuals with whom I will share this column will be writing independently of SOL. Our views and opinions do not necessarily represent those of SOL or any of its other members.

Next, the interesting stuff. While this column will be primarily question-and-answer-based, I do not have any questions to answer for this first column. For the purposes of our next column, that’s where you come in: Drop me a line at [email protected]. In the meantime, I am going to talk about a question I once received in a program:

“Why would a guy I hardly know put his finger in my butt? RUDE!!”

First off, I must agree if a guy you barely know put his finger in your butt without asking, that is definitely rude — to say the least. We don’t want to just put our fingers in places without asking for consent first. However, I think this question reflects a larger issue that I would like to address in this first column — our general cultural fear of the rear. Though the anus is heavily (and pleasurably) innervated, and questions about and interest in anal sex are common, many of us are resistant to anal sexploration because of a culturally-conditioned anal dis-ease. Three factors contribute to this: shame, germ-phobia and homophobia.

Pooping makes us nervous. We get embarrassed by lots of the various sights, smells and secretions our bodies produce, but we get especially embarrassed about poop. We don’t like to poop in public bathrooms. We don’t even like to talk about pooping (except for me, who writes columns about it, apparently). Since the anus is, biologically, the opening that makes it all possible, our queasiness about poop becomes queasiness about our anuses.

Part of our queasiness about poop comes from the fact that we’ve learned it’s dirty — literally. One of my earliest memories of life is from when I was about 5, and I heard on the radio that a bunch of people in my hometown had contracted foodborne illnesses because a Subway employee didn’t wash his hands after he went to the bathroom. I still don’t like to eat at Subway. Stories like these contribute to our unease about anal play. The anus has poop, poop is dirty, and we don’t like to touch/lick/be around dirty things. 

Finally, there is an element of homophobia that contributes to our reluctance to explore the back door. Regardless of our conscious beliefs, we are surrounded by cultural messages that describe gay (read: anal) sex as “unnatural,” “perverted,” “sinful” or any other generally undesirable words. This association persists despite the fact that “gay” and “anal” sex are by no means synonymous, and it may cause us to feel guilty or to think twice before engaging in anal sex play — “sinful” has got some pretty strong connotations with it.

This column isn’t about convincing you to drop your inhibitions and your underwear and pursue anal play with reckless abandon. On the contrary, I firmly believe any hesitations one has about any kind of sexual activity must be acknowledged and respected by all partners involved. However, it is often beneficial for us to step back and evaluate the ways in which we think, especially in situations where the influence of culture may be more powerful than we think (or care to admit).

This is the case when it comes to the anus. The first step to exploring anal play doesn’t have to involve any actual play. Despite the fact that we’re taught from a young age that “going to the bathroom” is a private matter and it’s not polite to talk about butts or poop, a big part of easing our discomfort can come in the form of getting information, whether it’s from a book — check out “The Ultimate Guide to Anal Sex for Women” by Tristan Taormino or “Anal Pleasure & Health: A Guide for Men and Women” by Jack Morin — workshops, brochures or any other safe space in which we can freely discuss ideas and get accurate answers to our questions.

Second, recognize the anus isn’t inherently any dirtier than most other parts of the body. If you and your partner(s) are engaging in normal hygiene practices like using toilet paper and showering regularly, the anus isn’t going to be a shit-filled germ haven. In fact, in some circumstances, there may actually be fewer bacteria in the anus than there are in really nasty places in the body, like, say, the hands. Barrier methods like a sex dam or latex gloves can also minimize direct contact if you or your partner is still concerned, or if there is risk of spreading STIs.

Finally, homophobia is a tough one. There truly are individuals out there who use words like “unnatural,” but there are also well-meaning individuals who too quickly dismiss the influence of a rampantly homophobic culture. “Oh, I’m not a homophobe — I totally have gay friends,” we might reason. Because we don’t want to be labeled as such, we are loath to consider any suggestion that we are products of this type of culture. Dr. Charles Silverstein and Felice Picano, authors of “The New Joy of Gay Sex,” note: “Most of us feel that we are far too intelligent and sophisticated to be plagued by anything as old-fashioned and silly as guilt. But it’s precisely the intelligent, sophisticated person who has the most difficulty in clearly labeling the guilt that haunts so much of his [or her] behavior.”

So back to the question at hand:  “Why would a guy I hardly know put his finger in my butt?” My guess is that, like many people, he had heard anal play can be pleasurable, but (since we don’t talk about that sort of thing) was too embarrassed to ask you about it first. Communication between partners is a vital part of healthy sexuality, and a quick, “Hey, can I put my finger here?” would certainly have been ideal. But while the importance of consent can never be underestimated, this question also reflects a larger general attitude about anal play, one that is rarely examined or questioned. Even if/when we talk about places where “the sun don’t shine,” we don’t talk about the anus.

It’s time we brought the anus out of the darkness, too.

Note: Questions, concerns or comments should be sent to [email protected].