FANTASTIC DILDOS AND WHY CAN'T I FIND THEM?

The thing about sex is that, no matter how hard you try to force it down the drainpipe of human existence, it bubbles up through the seams and crevices.

A sex desert is a godforsaken place, neglected by the rains of pleasure and the colors of want. Coarse sands blow through these lonely patches, whisking up façades of propriety, masking the truth. People still shag in sex deserts, just as life exists between the shifting dunes; only here, when the lights turn on, our mouths are zipped as tightly as our pants.

Sex deserts are conversational wastelands that infest every corner of the world, trapping people in terrible, deprived silences where shame thrives and ripens. I grew up in one such desert – China, where discussions of sex are buried deep beneath the sand, never to be uncovered.

As I grew older, however, I chose to leave the metaphorical sex desert behind. The pretense of “modesty” lost its luster, and I, along with others of this generation, began to see through the shrouds of taboo that throttle sex in Chinese society. So I decided to buy my friend a dildo for her 18th birthday. 

The thing about sex is that, no matter how hard you try to force it down the drainpipe of human existence, it bubbles up through the seams and crevices. In China, the market for sex manifests itself in unassuming sex shops. Determined to buy our friend a proper, albeit unoriginal, adult gift, a friend and I packed our bags and started across the desert toward these sexy oases.

The first store we went to was closed, although shut-down would be a more accurate description. Chains and padlocks swaddled the rusty door, above which a flickering neon sign flashed Orange Adult. Wondering what dirty double entendre the owner could’ve intended with that name, I looked into the display window. Two naked female mannequins stood like deranged barbies in the unlit cell. Both wore purple lips and smokey eyes; neither had nipples. Blonde Party City wigs hung in messy tangles from their heads as if they should be throwing wine glasses amidst an emotional meltdown. Small but perky breasts rounded off into smooth, beige domes on their impossibly proportioned bodies. One of these not-so-lovely ladies was missing a silicone arm. I imagined blood squirting from the empty socket, slasher-style. Her vacant, sharpie-drawn eyes bore down on me in disdain. 

So this is what sex looks like in China, I thought as pedestrians rushed by with lowered gazes, trying their best to ignore the raving maenads that guarded this temple of sin. “What a shame,” I told my friend, because shame was surely the culprit behind Orange Adult’s tragic demise. Looking into the store’s dark emptiness, I saw only my own terrified reflection. The desert is taking over.

The second store we visited was called Adult Items. Zero points for creativity there, I thought, but thank Cupid it was open.

Inside was a depressing attempt at disco. The store resembled a New York City bodega, cramped from wall to wall with shelves that you had to turn sideways to maneuver across. There was almost no lighting inside except for a lone disco ball that hung precariously from the ceiling, spinning hypnotic rays of kaleidoscopic lights. A portable speaker on the counter blasted Britney. Female mannequins, sisters if not twins of the ladies from Orange Adult, stood vigilantly in the corners. They wore purple and black lingerie that left little to the imagination. One of them held a red leather whip, price tag dangling from its bristles. 

Now we’re talking business, I thought excitedly. This is the desert Eden we’ve been looking for, and it’s time to feast. Multicolored boxes lined the shelves: condoms, lubes, handcuffs, lingerie. As my friend and I perused the shelves, we couldn’t help but notice the overwhelming selection of male masturbation products: pumps, cups, rings, sleeves, strokers, and–behold the summit of human ingenuity–the “bionic bullet” (it grips your testicles, fellas).

With so vast an assortment for men who masturbate, I felt certain that Adult Items would offer dildos and vibrators galore. But we scoured the shop and found nothing. Alas, there was one dildo that caught our attention–a giant penis that sat directly on the shelf with no container. It was pale white with bulging, silicone veins. The monstrous, cobwebbed thing looked more like Halloween decoration than anything that belonged in a vagina.

My friend turned to me with a look that said, I ain’t sitting on that.

“Do you have anything like this but… smaller?” I asked the balding, bespectacled man behind the counter as if shopping for vacuum cleaners at Best Buy. 

“Portable, maybe?” my friend chimed in. “Or just… new?”

The man looked at us as if he had never seen a teenage couple look for dildos at a sex store before.

He frowned at me. “No,” he said. “Maybe online. They sell everything online.”

With that, my friend and I left Adult Items with not a single adult item in our possession. It turned out that this desert sanctuary was nothing more than a mirage. Chinese men are allowed to masturbate under the table (pun intended), as long as they keep mum about their sinful indulgence in pleasure. But women? They can’t even go fuck themselves. 

After quickly giving up on the idea of DIY-ing our own dildo (put the do in dildo?), we chose a boring, perfectly appropriate present for our dear friend’s birthday – a Starbucks mug that I’ve never seen her use (she would’ve found much more utility in a dildo).

While my own dildo journey was over for the time being, I couldn’t help but wonder – is this it? Are China’s unabashedly sex-positive doomed to spend eternity in a dildo-less hell? Must we all make do with fingers and phallic vegetables and other crafty solutions? More importantly, what about those who, lost in the desert, have never even attempted masturbation? Are they to remain deprived, without proper information about their options? Troubled by these questions, I apprehensively turned to the internet. The ensuing results flipped my perception upside down. 

It turns out that the cashier at Adult Items was right. Every online sex store on the Chinese interwebs has at least five kinds of dildos: white, pink, yellow, blue, electronic, egg-shaped, penis-shaped, remote-controlled. Even the app that I use to order takeout, a Chinese Postmates of sorts, delivers vibrators discreetly to your front door.

Online, I saw the frontiers of China’s sex desert retreat, giving way to the lush green landscape of open conversations and sexual liberation. Many Chinese women shared their sexual experiences online, clearing a beautiful path through the disparaging desert. They detailed their masturbatory journeys: fingers, vibrators, couch cushions, Chinese bitter melons, scooting on the floor, the list goes on and on. To me, each online post was a seedling sprouting from below the sandy depths. Every conversation became a growing tree that tethered the desert and hindered its spread. I was gravely mistaken when I believed that China wasn’t ready to talk about sex. We are ready; and out of the desert we march.

Our Long March toward sexual liberation, however, will not be smooth sailing. In my relentless dildo journey, I realized that in-person manifestations of sex were the deal-breaker for Chinese society; however, perhaps surprisingly, this stigmatization of sex was not always enshrined in our nation’s history. In ancient and pre-modern China, sexuality was relatively unrestricted. Brothels, orgies, and even homosexual relationships were not uncommon. The Emperor himself maintained full palaces of concubines for sexual pleasure; and the Taoist religion encouraged intercourse as a means to enrich the spirit. The ancient Chinese even painted nudes and steamy sex scenes, but these erotic depictions dwindled to nonexistence in the last century, entombed by sand. 

The desertification of China began with the Communist Revolution, when “selfish enjoyment” was completely outlawed and replaced with hard labour and large-scale celibacy. In the 1970s and 80s, while the rest of the world listened to Madonna sing about fucking like a virgin, China was still grappling with the remnants of Maoist ideology. In the strict principle of socialist collectivism that Mao espoused, sovereign ownership of the body and sexual repression were key components. Sex, along with religion and Western capitalism, became hyper-taboo. As China subsequently retreated from the extremeness of these ideologies, sexual discourse began to resurface. But the shame and embarrassment that enshrouded IRL conversations about sex have been more or less branded into our collective mindset.

The internet and its surface anonymity dispel many of these negative feelings. Who cares if smellycat93 gave herself crabs from a second-hand vibrator when no one knows who smellycat93 really is? Who’s to be blamed if sexygrandma25 wore out five Hitachi Magic Wands in two years, when the true identity of this prolific masturbator cannot be uncovered? For those of us who thirst for solidarity in the lonely sandstorm, online forums serve as protective gear against the desert’s harsh winds and inexorable cruelty.

The benefits of anonymity are further amplified by the demographic of Chinese internet users – Millennials and Zoomers who have been heavily influenced by Western culture (much to our conservative parents’ chagrin). Fearlessly sexy Americans with freedom written on their short shorts and mini-skirts (and sometimes bare asses) have inspired many of us to lead equally erotic lives. How is the tradition of taboo and silence to survive when we youths are constantly “corrupted” by the likes of Gaga and Samantha Jones? But sex deserts are not destroyed in a day. Where, if not online, are we to spill the tea on sex when our disapproving, pearl-clutching aunties surround us like buzzing swarms of desert locusts? 

The internet, in all its glory, flows through China like the Nile with its ever-cascading waters. Life always blossoms on the banks of great rivers, even in the Sahara, and it is here where China’s sex revolution begins. But online is not enough. No one is truly liberated until all of us can walk into a sex store on the streets of Nanjing or Dalian and purchase the dildo of our dreams. 

I imagine a day when the people of China can proudly storm the streets holding vibrators of every kind. As warriors of change, we will wield dildos like so many phallic swords. We will shove them in the faces of social custom and taboo. We will wave them like bundles of burning sage, cleansing our culture of masturbatory shame. Begone, pathetic sex stores devoid of vibrators! Farewell, giant silicone dicks covered in spider webs! This is how we will pave the way to China’s dildo-abundant future. This is how we will leave the desert for good.

AUTHOR: Andrew Lu is a first-year Brown student currently stuck in a faraway land. He has no clue what he wants to concentrate in but can’t wait to make snow angels on the Main Green.

ARTIST: Ashley Castañeda