Even as we call out cancel culture and the intolerance of the woke, there is an even more worrying trend among college students. To wit, engagement in sexual debauchery and the glorification of promiscuity of astronomical proportions.
It appears that many young people regard colleges primarily as venues for jettisoning any form of sexual restraint and feelings of affection towards others. And taxpayers, in this case those in California and the rest of us via various types of federal funding for higher education, are subsiding this raunchiness.
It is hard to fully critique much of the content of The Daily Californian’s Sex Issue 2022, published February 10-11, 2022, because so much of it is so explicit and so coarse.
But it is worth looking at because it demonstrates that, for some reason, unlike many of their peers at campus publications elsewhere (say, Yale, Princeton, Harvard, the University of Oregon, Oregon State University, the University of Washington and so on), many of the student writers at UC Berkeley are obsessed with carnality and their own sexual escapades and gender identity struggles. It is as though narcissism and a preoccupation with transgressive sexual activity are required for admission to Berkeley.
None of these young people seem to have any interest in academics or their futures or current events. It’s all sex—and not in just in bedrooms but in public places. The aim of these pieces is titillation. The result is tawdriness. There is nothing artistic or erotic. It’s just sordid.
As a woman who is very weary of confused men announcing with fanfare that they are actually women, I may as well get the essay, Figuring out I’m a woman on Berkeley Time out of the way. The title says it all. Yes, that is what state universities are for: serving as venues for troubled young people to engage in gender confusion spectacles, drama queen hysterics, pronoun appropriation and spoiling birthday parties:
I sobbed in my friend’s arms at her birthday party a couple of weekends ago. As the people around us continued to play party games and blast music, I admitted out loud, for the first time, that I was a trans woman.
To my knowledge, nobody else at the party heard me as they were all distracted while I cried on the couch. My friend reassured me that I was loved by the people around me, and she and her partner embraced me while she referred to me with she/her pronouns. They then moved me into her bedroom so that I could have some time to myself.
He goes to playact being a woman, as if womanhood is merely a matter of wardrobe and accoutrements:
…grew obsessed with wearing women’s clothing. As time went on, I wore more and more skirts, earrings and heels, and I grew increasingly comfortable with my femininity.
That is not “femininity.” That is grotesquerie.
In the casual sex culture, relationships are not even called that and are of the shortest duration:
I met a guy who would become a long situationship that lasted until the end of the semester.
One aspect of the sexual confession mode that Berkeley student journalism specializes in is that it assumes that one’s sexual orientation is of great moment to the rest of the world, as this young man thinks. And he is convinced that he has a claim to the word “woman.”
I had to let it out, or it would consume me. So here I am presenting myself.
I am scared but happier than I’ve ever been. I can finally be myself. I am a trans woman.
Moving right along, another essay in the Daily Californian’s Sex Issue 2022 suggests that these oversexed young people regard public lewdness as great fun, rather than an imposition on innocent bystanders. Take the piece, Top 10 sexiest places for UC Berkeley students to get it on.
Herein, we learn that the author sees exhibitionism as harmless hijinks:
If you’re looking for some adventurous fun, try having sex in these 10 public spots and see how long it takes for someone to spot you.
Yeah, I definitely want to encounter people engaging in sexual intercourse as I stroll along in a campus community. Imagine being a future potential employer of the young woman applying for work with you and doing a quick Google search on her. “Oh, yes—she’d fit right in in our office…”
How nice to know that this young woman is no stranger to her university library:
Whichever bookshelf you desire, you can have. Sandwiched between books and endless literature, you have the opportunity to be more intimate with your education than ever before.
How considerate she is of peers who might go to the library to, you know, study.
And if shocking a handful of people in a library is too tame, she ups the ante:
There is nothing like a traffic jam caused by people getting distracted by public sex.
So far in my humdrum little life, I have not encountered such an event. But mores are changing and barbarity is becoming normalized. So you never know.
There are other essays in this collection and you are welcome to peruse them: accounts of the wares for sale in sex shops and so forth.
There is one passage that is rather revealing in the essay entitled, Beneath my sheets: Benders, casual sex and my validation. The young woman writes:
Anyone who’s ever had a conversation with me probably knows something about my sex life.
I’ve always been one to overshare, and I never really cared to question it until a former sexual partner asked me why I thought everyone was so concerned with what I did in my own bedroom.
This suggests that she is starting to realize that engaging in sex at a whirligig rate with near strangers is not conducive to a happy, worthwhile life. Sadly, the essay ends with only a semi-hopeful note of moving towards a modicum of self mastery:
I haven’t cut casual sex off completely.
While I may still be inviting new partners, I’ve tried to limit myself to those with whom I actually feel comfortable around and attracted to…
These essays are worth skimming in order to note the soft porn on display in student journalism at Berkeley. One can then return with relief to more substantive fare in the world of campus publications elsewhere in academia.