September 7, 2014
By Andrea Castillo
From the prim Puritan vengeance wracked upon the steadfast Hester Prynne to the targeted sexual critique of Ke$ha’s (self-described) “positive, fun” music, libidinous ladies can never seem to get much of a break. Men can receive hoots and high fives for the same behaviors that slap women with the dreaded stain of harlotry. Slut-shaming, or the social repression and maligning of sexual promiscuity, is usually rife with apparent gender-based double standards. Even those who disapprove of promiscuity in general tend to judge female offenders more harshly than their Casanova counterparts. What gives, fellow WEIRDos?
At first glance, it appears obvious that sexual repression is merely another hammer in the patriarchy’s toolkit of female oppression. Looking through history, we see example after example of male-dominated institutions enforcing asymmetric standards of sexual conduct. Even when those standards also repress male sexuality, as in ancient prohibitions against Onanism and homosexuality, the fury reserved for public roastings of sexual sinners has been particularly thorough in rebuking the “bad girls.” It is easy to see how enforcing the sexual repression of a social group would, indeed, be an effective way to disenfranchise that population.
Upon deeper scrutiny, the patriarchy theory of slut-shaming reveals interesting tensions. While sexually successful men have undoubtedly enjoyed the social benefits and paternal certainty wrought by their relative sexual freedom, tempering female sexuality would be, at best, a Pyrrhic victory for the patriarchy. Restricting the supply of “sluts,” after all, significantly limits the potential for misogynistic indulgence in female sexual objectification.
We would expect a patriarchy to weigh the trade-offs of maintaining power by repressing female sexuality against the option to easily satisfy a considerable carnal appetite. Given the high value ostensibly placed on both, any patriarchy’s optimal allocation of sexual repression and sexual objectification would not likely be as one-sided as observed in history and today. A society ruled entirely by misogynists would probably not discourage, or might even actively encourage, female promiscuity.
To untangle the sources of slut-shaming, we should think economically. Proposed by psychologists Roy Baumeister and Kathleen Vohs and built upon Gary Becker’s economics of human behavior, the framework of sexual economics attempts to shed light on gender relations and outcomes by analyzing dating, mating, and procreating through the lens of market activity. The economic way of thinking prompts us to consider the preferences, endowments, and trade-offs that shape our decisions in the face of our unlimited wants and limited means. Decisions about sex—in all of its pleasure, danger, and emotion—are no less subject to these constraints. Although rarely framed as such, in many ways, the euvoluntary exchange of semen and security for womb space and childcare constitutes one of humanity’s earliest, and perhaps most essential, economic spheres.
Sex is a female resource. While both genders certainly enjoy and depend on the act, natural constraints on female sexuality create scarcity—and value. The high costs of female fertility—in terms of time, mental and physical health, and opportunities forgone—impel women to act as suppliers in the sexual market. Male sexuality, on the other hand, is ubiquitous and cheap. What’s more, men tend to place a higher value on sexual gratification than do women. Men, therefore, comprise the demand for sex.
To consume their desired quantity of sex, men must offer women something of equal subjective value in return. The aggregate supply of willing women and aggregate demand for a roll in the hay in a given market will converge to an equilibrium “price” for sexual access. The price need not be literal, as is the case with prostitution. Historically, this bundle of goods offered to women included resources for child-rearing, material comfort, and protection for their families. When the supply exceeds the demand, the price drops, and women’s producer surplus declines. When men seek more sex than women are willing to supply, producer surplus increases, and women rule the roost.
Before the mass exodus of women into the public sphere, entering into lucrative sexual congress was a surefire way for shrewd suppliers to secure material well-being. Unfortunately, women’s natural endowments are as fleeting as their youthful competition is ever-regenerating. Even if a woman of yesterday managed to net a suitable husband, the spectre of wandering eyes and brazen temptresses haunted housewives. As such, there is a strong incentive for women to restrict competition, price-cutting, and client-stealing in the sexual mating market.
Slut-shaming, prohibitions against paid sex work, censorship of pornographic images, and gender segregation are all tools that restrict supply in the sexual market. Anxieties and incentives cause women facing sexual competition to psychologically exhibit similar, although uncoordinated, cartelistic behaviors. Thrill-seekers and erotic entrepreneurs that buck the sexual syndicate find themselves at the mercy of moral indignation and exclusion. A review of the literature on sexual suppression suggests that the evidence is more consistent with the female cartel theory than the patriarchy theory: Periods of sexual restraint coincide with sellers’ markets. Although men historically enforced sexual norms, female self-interest shapes them.
There is an interesting class element to consider. When the costs of entry into the public sphere were prohibitively high for women, “luxury suppliers”—with their accessories of pedigree, charm, and sophistication—stood to lose the most if the cartel crumbled. Less well-heeled women whose ambitions outsized their humble positions on the supply curve had less to lose, more to gain, and a much larger incentive to “cheat.” Prohibitions against sexual entrepreneurship at this period in time benefited rich women and hurt poor women.
Today, the sexual dynamics are decidedly different. Birth control, economic growth, and reformed social attitudes have changed the payoffs and rules of the game. Privileged women continue to make gains in education, earning, and self-sufficiency. They no longer rely on men’s largesse to live comfortably. They can afford to lower their own sexual price and indulge in Dionysian pleasures to their hearts’ (if not their peers’) content. Less fortunate women, however, lack the education, support, and opportunities that make this kind of freedom possible. They seek, but often cannot find, a dependable partner to assist in the often thankless burden of raising children. They are competing against, and losing to, sexually liberated women that are as close to “having it all” as observed yet. Sexual freedom, while just, has exhibited regressive tendencies worthy of attention.
We should expect slut-shaming and the associated unpleasantries to exist for as long as female sexuality remains valuable and heterogeneous. I doubt this will change in the near future. For now, thinking economically about sexuality can at least give us a better understanding of the sources of this shame.
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