Disorders of Desire is the only book to tell the story of the development and impact of sexology-the scientific study of sex-in the United States. In this era of sex scandals, culture wars, ""Sex in the City,"" and new sexual enhancement technologies (like erectile dysfunction drugs), its critique of sexology is even more relevant than it was when the book was first published in 1990. This revised and expanded edition features new chapters addressing: The diagnosis of ""sex addiction""in the 1970s and its social and political implications
Zugriffsoptionen:
Die folgenden Links führen aus den jeweiligen lokalen Bibliotheken zum Volltext:
Norine Kotts, Bio As a kid growing up in the suburbs just outside of Detroit I dreamed of joining the circus. The reality of picking up stakes and regularly moving was a part of my early childhood, so adding the circus element somehow made it seem exciting rather than what it sometimes was—a surprise of the greatest magnitude to learn that in an hour or two (or if I was lucky, a day or two) that we'd be on the road again in search of work for my dad. When we settled for any length of time, our home was a family to foster children of all ages. My adoptive mother, father, and I were the constants. The kids who passed through for a few weeks or months completed the other side of the circus equation. It's no wonder that when I struck out on my own I was at ease in almost any situation, able to easily slip into the lives of strangers and always willing to feed a new friend or give them a place to rest on whatever early twenty-something journey they were on. Hospitality was my bloodline. When the early '70's rolled around, I landed a job at a newspaper, answering phones, proofing copy, laying out pages, writing obituaries, and fetching coffee for the Sports Editor. The photographer took a shine to me, and I to his collection of cameras. I tagged along on assignments with him, picking up whichever loaded camera wasn't being used and began a life-long love of viewing the world through the lens of a camera. As more and more of my photos from a shared roll were chosen to illustrate a story, I gradually left desk work behind and began to free-lance my photos, eventually landing work photographing the Virginia Slims Women's Tennis Circuit. Once again, I was on the road, and while all of this was great fun and financially rewarding, after a few years of crisscrossing the country, I felt the need to let my cameras sit and my eyes rest. In 1980, I met Cheryl in San Francisco, we soon moved back to the East Coast, and our food adventures began. Cheryl Lewis, Bio Born in Chicago in 1957, I soon moved with my family to a mountain top in Rockland County, New York, and helped my parents build their house as their four-year-old assistant. I've been cooking all my life, starting out by my mother's side: shaking sugar onto her warm, gooey jelly doughnuts; making eclairs for her ladies' lunches; and building multi-course Chinese, Mexican, German, Italian and American dinners for the family. Who knew that all that cooking would become my life's passion! I moved to the Bay Area to attend art school, anticipating a career as a ceramic artist. Instead, meeting my partner Norine and all those girls on Waldo Street in Somerville, Massachusetts, led us to that super-fun and challenging collective experiment of Beetle's Lunch. We launched this whole new career path as a result of starting Beetle's in what felt like an idealistic "community of now" in Boston--an era that pushed the boundaries of "normal" both in purity of food (no can openers there!), music, and political feminism. So many people taught and supported me all along the way— chefs, friends, customers, vendors, family, and especially my girl, Norine! Together, we felt such vitality in our yearning to grow and learn and, as women entrepreneurs, to push that boulder up the mountain! ; https://digitalcommons.usm.maine.edu/lgbtq_beetle/1000/thumbnail.jpg
Marginal People in Deviant Places revisits early- to mid-twentieth-century ethnographic studies, arguing that their focus on marginal subcultures—ranging from American hobos, to men who have sex with other men in St. Louis bathrooms, to hippies, to taxi dancers in Chicago, to elderly Jews in Venice, California—helped produce new ways of thinking about social difference more broadly in the United States. Irvine demonstrates how the social scientists who told the stories of these marginalized groups represented an early challenge to then-dominant narratives of scientific racism, prefiguring the academic fields of gender, ethnic, sexuality, and queer studies in key ways. In recounting the social histories of certain American outsiders, Irvine identifies an American paradox by which social differences are both despised and desired, and she describes the rise of an outsider capitalism that integrates difference into American society by marketing it.
Describes the political transformations, cultural dynamics, and affective rhetorics that together helped ignite the passionate conflicts over sex education on both the national and local levels in the United States
This article expands the concept of sexual scripts and the cognitive mapping method by adding an emotional dimension to both. It is based on a case study of college students reporting their experiences of the walk of shame, the term for women walking home in the early morning from a "hookup," or casual sex, the night before. The walk of shame is a productive site in which to address conceptual and methodological challenges posed by sociology's affective turn. In this article, I discuss emotional scripts as a conceptual framework for exploring women students' experiences with the walk of shame. And I propose affective mapping as a methodological approach for capturing emotional dimensions in social life. Using the method to map the emergence of feelings and their temporal changes in relation to normative features of the spatial environment, I suggest that although the walk of shame appears to be a vehicle for the social control of women's sexuality, women report more complexity during their walks, producing scripts of shame, pride, and ambivalence.
This article examines subjective experiences of stigma by contemporary sociologists in the field of sexuality studies. Many sexuality scholars reported experiences of stigma and marginalization in academic departments, such as disparaging jokes and assumptions about the researcher's personal sexual identity or behavior. Women were more likely than men to report these types of subjective experiences. Although preliminary, these findings suggest the possibility of stigma in the academic workplace based on the area of research.
Insitutional Review Boards (IRBs) pose many challenges for sexuality researchers. Sociologist Janice M. Irvine explores how IRBs marginalize sexuality research and the effects of this process.
In this essay in the special section Mobilization Forum: Awkward Movements, the author explores the outdated, yet persistent, mainstream sociological view that good analysis is a middle ground interpretation with which all parties would agree in relation to the awkwardness she encountered in her research on sexuality in the Christian right movement. The author identifies the aggressive patterns of inflammatory language & aggressive strategies of attack & lying about research that she identified as highly successful systematic national strategies of deception & demonization that impacted her analysis, writing, & choice of tone of the book, & brings up questions of negotiating the tension between activists in right-wing or fascist movements. The impacts on the author's sense of personal safety are related the broad politics of deception were implemented in the 2000 elections. The increased tension over the political nature of her book in the era of increasing right-wing environment is concluded to be an experience that the outdated middle ground standard does not address, & should be reconsidered in face of the refusal of the right wing social movement to accept the accuracy of her analysis of their lies for political gain. J. Harwell