LE PORTRAIT MAGAZINE MARCH-SEPTEMBER ISSUE | Page 35

humidity affected excrement composting times. This was a man with
both a graying ponytail and a receding hairline, whose sexuality was just
a little too close to the surface for my comfort.
It wasn’t just the presence of this type of man’s sexuality, it was that his
sexuality had been workshopped into its current prominence. His
workshopped sexuality was wrapped in layers of acceptance and
celebration that had been workshopped there, too. These workshops,
which were conducted in “safe spaces,” had created too safe a space, a
space safe for something that, paradoxically, made me feel less so.
There was something about the way men like this used words like
“nonviolent” that was similar to the way the Bush administration used
words like “freedom” or “democracy.” The very deployment of these
words instantly implied their opposite. When he labeled his
communication as explicitly nonviolent, the ponytailed man with the
openly displayed chest hair made me think that without extreme efforts
to the contrary, he would, in fact, be violent. His constant insistence that
we were in a “safe space” hinted at danger.
At Pono’s polyamory workshop, Jeff told me, a sixty-something woman
had invited him to the sacred sexual temple with her. (Like me, Jeff was
in his mid-thirties.)
“I didn’t end up going,” said Jeff, “but it would have been a good
opportunity to confront my ageism.”
I looked down at my deeply tanned cleavage, wondering whether, if I
attended the right workshop, I could one day convince a much younger
man that I had created a safe space for him to resolve his Oedipal issues.
When I snapped back to the present, Pono was emphasizing the
importance of making sure one’s homemade toilet not only encouraged,
but demanded, a squatting position. “Are you familiar with the benefits
of squatting?” he murmured gravely.

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