the lame australian sex census
The Great Australian Sex Census comes but once every two years (clichéd pun intended), but if you’ve taken it, you might find yourself wondering whether it is all that great. Now gathering data for its third report, the census claims it asks all the questions the Bureau of Statistics won’t dare to pose about Australian life. However, it doesn’t quite invite all Australians and it’s certainly no reliable source of information.
I’m an undergraduate. I’ve never had to craft a methodology for anything before, bar bullshitting my way through essays. I’ve been subjected to enough university surveys though that I can safely say this ‘census’ is anything but representative of the whole nation’s sexual habits. This survey is fundamentally flawed, from its spelling, punctuation and grammar problems, to its inherent lack of sampling, to its biased perception of human sexuality. That last one was indeed a bold claim, but let me explain.
The questions put forward to you are conceivably formulated based on a number of initial answers. Age, sex, location and who you like to share your pants’ contents with. But before you even get on to the nitty gritty, something smells fishy.
The Great Australian Sex Census’s concept of gender is black and white: you are male or female. You can’t be trans* or intersex. No, no, no. Actually, there is mention of the trans* community fleetingly in the ‘sexual bucket list’ criteria… you guessed it, as novelty sexual objects.
The idea of sexual orientations presented by the census is just as limited: heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, bi-curious. There is no option to identify yourself as pan- or asexual. If I was researching the sexual lives of Australians, I would definitely include those who are potentially attracted to everyone or no-one.
I think the worst part in this area is the lack of definitions as to what those sexual orientations included entail. I gather I’d be what they call heterosexual, a lady who likes lads who are consenting to sexy-times when I am also consenting. I think that’s what they mean based on what I learnt in health class one billion years ago, even though there’s no mention of consent. Also, bi-curious isn’t enough of a label to constitute all those questioning their sexuality. Just sayin’.
But then, there are issues throughout the survey with descriptions. It does not explain what constitutes ‘virginity’ for the sake of the study. This is confusing because the question comes before you’ve even submitted an answer as to which genders are capable / incapable of arousing you. It is also confusing because it doesn’t pry into socially-derived conceptions of what virginity is, across the limited number of sexualities they have covered.
Put simply, there are some really big issues with the Sex Census. This isn’t just because of its exclusion of certain genders, sexualities and its limited capabilities for response by those being surveyed. Nor is it because it completely ignores the issue of consent and prevalence of safe sex in favour of questions about penis size, breast surgery and whether you enjoy being ejaculated on (if you’re attracted to men). The census is sponsored by a number of commercial and political interests, which poses questions about its true intent.
The census’s number one presenter is RedHotPie, a singles and swingers dating site. It’s also sponsored by the Australian Sex Party, Sexpo – an annual adult lifestyle exhibition, and Eros – the adult retail and entertainment association. It’s noteworthy that RedHotPie’s owners were taken to court by the Australian Competition and Consumer Commission in 2010 to be found guilty of making up more than 1,300 fake profiles which interacted flirtatiously with real, paying users. I wonder if this survey is just a guise to exact data so it can market its service to different niches. Could that be the aim of the census’s other sponsors, too? I dare say such speculation has not invoked many – if any – gasps from you, Lipsters.
Given the fact this survey is without any real statistical merit, you may wonder why this article has even bothered to grant it the bad publicity (because hey, any publicity’s apparently good for them). Despite this census’s teeniest, tiniest, minuscule speck of credibility, it’s been covered by News Corp and Fairfax papers, Channel 7, and various capital city radio stations. In vain of the general jest of this coverage, they are reporting the census’s findings as fact to the Australian population, perpetuating ideas of the sexiest professions and out-there sexual pastimes: ‘fucking while falling out of a plane’, anyone?
If there’s one thing I received – bar a decrease in my libido – from the Sex Census, it is knowledge that there are a number of preconceptions about Australians’ sexualities present in it. I’m not against the idea of an Australian sex census. Au contraire, it could be a wonderful learning curve for Australian society.
Efforts put into gaining real, quantified and qualitative accounts of the whole context of Australian sexuality could end taboos and grant people a voice to compete with hetero-normative discourses. It could, furthermore, be used as a means to explore how sexual partners negotiate consent and get people thinking about that.
The Great Australian Sex Census operates under the guise of inclusivity and openness and breaking down taboos. It’s nothing but a marketing ploy. I feel dirty and used.
