A professor of psycho make the remark to me that today there are two types of children: those whom their neurotic parents think are gifted, and those who are lagging behind because, it is once again the parents, who say that they have been victims of sexual abuse.
A lovely division whose merit is to situate the problem: either you prefer the screen to sex and you are gifted, or you sexualise, as a victim of course, and you are worth nothing, you train wreck!
I myself take the risk of being excessive in saying that the current expurgation of sex in culture aims at the elimination of the last bastion that resists the master, the impossible, and is opposed to the totalitarianism that is specific to the market economy. It adds the addiction to the object to what was previously political, a supposed invisible and odourless manifestation of dependency, which is nonetheless absolute since it is exempt from rebellion, more or less: the environmentalists don’t yet measure up.
Sex was the last shelter for a subjectivity firmed up by the autonomy of desire and the whim of its choices: now it is rendered archaic, a grandfather’s tale, not the least bit progressive.
Leaning with benevolence over the town, the giant image of an omnipotent mother cradles in her arms the life-saving object, illuminating its metamorphoses. She is always ready to respond to all the demands, why not a child on this occasion, and for him/her, Merry Christmas!, the new non-gendered Barbie, neither one nor the other. Whose then? Answer: from the uniform One. Does that remind you of something?