What's your number?

I don’t remember the first time I heard the word; maybe it was early high school or even earlier during middle school. But I do remember how quickly the negativity of the word was ingrained in my mind. Reading the word made me flush. Saying the word aloud made me cringe. Slut. The slimy sound of the “s” and “l,” the repulsive “u,” the brute “t” ending it all. Simple and short, yet emphatic in its slew of associations. There was, or rather is, a standard that society holds for women’s sexuality: A woman is supposed to be demure, not restrained, because that implies she is not naturally so. She can have sex with one or two people, but she needs to be emotionally invested in this person. And above all, a woman should not openly discuss her sexuality. As in, when the rapper Ludacris said he wanted “a lady in the street but a freak in the bed,” he meant it. Keep all that well beneath the surface, beneath your power suit and pumps.

And if any one woman strays from this ideal, she should expect to be ostracized for it and accept it — she has made her bed, so she must then lie on it (rather than lie in it with another person).

I suppose I was passive about this societal mandate because I had already reached several of my own conclusions as to why I thought sex with multiple people is bad. I guessed that sort of action was both mentally and emotionally unsound, that sleeping with a large number of people could leave a woman confused about any deeper feelings toward a partner or that having sex so often for purely physical gratification meant someone was emotionally bankrupt. I will say, though, that society was responsible for my not holding men to these same beliefs. I was able to justify my own opinions. But in doing so, I was also rationalizing society’s tendencies to force this judgment upon all women, as well as its punishments for those who did not fall in line. I didn’t fully realize that ostracizing women who decide to go against this long-standing societal mandate is wrong until I reached college.

During frosh week, my class was subjected to a number of talks and assemblies about diversity, acceptance and tolerance. Yet, though things such as race, nationality and religion were pressed, sexuality was not. And even when it was, it was almost always in the context of sexual harassment and orientation, not actual chosen activity. Of course, I’m not too upset about this — because really, who wants the dean of what-have-you talking about not judging that girl on her walk of shame, which, in retrospect, shouldn’t even be deemed a walk of shame. But still, the same tolerance we show (or should show) for people’s religion or sexual orientation should extend to their physical sexuality. It is someone’s personal decision that does not affect or harm anyone else. And ultimately, in the grand picture by which a person is defined, this part is so minute.

Because telling me the number of people you’ve slept with tells me virtually nothing about what kind of person you are. It doesn’t depict your work ethic in that impossible physics course. It doesn’t convey your kindness through simple gestures like holding a door open. And it most definitely doesn’t portray your hopes and dreams, the way you hope to impact the world. And so, why society remains fixated upon the sexual activity of women is beyond me.

The etymology of “slut” dates to 1402, a time when women could be sold off into marriage for a hefty cow and a pig or two. It pains me that, while this practice has become quite antiquated, the use of “slut” has been popularized. A man can still label a woman a slut for being sexually empowered and demanding birth control to be covered by healthcare. Female YouTube sensations can still casually call other females sluts because they engage in casual sex. One such YouTube star says that monogamy is a state of higher evolution, that “anyone can be a slut, but it takes some logic and reasoning to … be with one person.” This sort of thinking belittles humans, depicting us as incapable of understanding that others’ lifestyles will not always be like yours. Only after we have evolved from this behavior can we stop judging a woman’s self-worth on this highly personal, yet ultimately immaterial basis. And that’s the most sound and logical action we can take.

Lea Trusty is a freshman from Saint Rose, La. She can be reached at ltrusty@princeton.edu.