Miriam Datskovsky is passionate about sex–what it means, what it stands for, and where it’s going. The pint-sized, 20-year-old Columbia University is soft-spoken in person but outspoken in print, where she uses her pen to spill all about campus sex in her Sexplorations column for The Columbia Spectator (circulation: 10,000). Since starting the column last year, she’s tackled sexual stereotypes, losing one’s virginity, bisexuality, the connection between sex and sleep, and most recently, the walk of shame, looking to her peers, pop culture, and her own experiences to map how hook-ups, relationships, and sexual experimentation are evolving. The Philadelphia native is a Human Rights and Political Science major as well as an Associate Opinion Editor for the Spectator, and has recently found herself getting recognition beyond her Ivy League campus, attending a symposium hosted by Dr. Drew and being quoted in The Atlantic Monthly, along with an upcoming interview in New York magazine’s sex issue next week (which, full disclosure, is where we met). Datskovsky rises above her peers, producing culturally insightful work that explores the ins and outs of sex at Columbia.
When did you start writing Sexplorations and why did you want to do it?
I started writing Sexplorations in September 2004. When I got to college I was so sick of all the extra-curricular activities I did in high school that I did close to nothing my first semester. Spectator advertised that they were looking for a sex columnist during my second semester of college—by the time I was ready to start doing extra-curriculars again. I wanted to do it because I wanted to get involved with the Spectator. I love to write, I missed it, and I figured there couldn’t be anything more fun to write about than sex. Plus I was enjoying imagining the look on my mom’s face when she found out about it.
How has your perception of the column and yourself as a columnist changed since you started?
It’s funny, because when I started writing the column it really wasn’t a big deal. It was sort of an aside, something I did because I enjoyed writing and it was fun. But as time, and my column, wore on, this thing that I had begun doing became more and more important. Suddenly it wasn’t something I did, it was what I did, a huge part of who I am. Since then, I’ve done my best to be as honest as possible in my column, and as a result, I think I’ve become more honest in my everyday life, especially (no surprise) when it comes to sex.
Do your professors and classmates know that you write the column, and what’s been their response?
Ha. Yes. Easily the most classic professor response, or shout-out, if you will, came from Professor Eric Foner of American history fame. He was lecturing about—what was it, I think communitarian groups of the early nineteenth century—and he was talking about this one group which was especially known for its open approach to sex, and the extensively detailed sexual conversations among women, “much like the column we see in the Spectator these days.” No joke. I emailed him after class to tell him I enjoyed lecture, and especially appreciated his reference to my column to which we responded: “Thanks—I’ve learned a lot from your column, definitely. –EF” I still have the email. My advanced oral French professor loves my column so much that we have to discuss it in French every other week (you can imagine how my French vocabulary has increased as a result). As for my classmates, I think a lot of them know, and sometimes I get compliments or even the occasional sleazebag hitting on me (“so, you write the sex column . . .” so, you’re an asshole . . .), but I try really hard not to publicize my role as the sex columnist in the classroom because I don’t think it’s that big a deal, it’s part of who I am—it doesn’t change who I am. And honestly, that’s not what I’m in class for—I’m in class to learn, not to flaunt myself.
Did you consider using a pseudonym at all when you started?
Maybe for about two seconds. But I quickly realized that if I was going to write this column, I needed to be comfortable with everything I was going to say and I needed to be proud of it and stand up for it. If I couldn’t be proud of it, if I couldn’t attach my own name to it, I didn’t see the point.
When you include your own experiences and those of your friends, do you get permission to talk about them? Has anyone you’ve written about been upset (or flattered) to be featured in your column?
I don’t usually ask my friends permission, unless it is something super personal or important to them . . . and I try not to invade that area of their lives if I can help it. For example, I know that one friend of mine is fine with me talking about his messed-up drunken experience in passing, but he would kill me if I talked about this falling out he and another friend had because he wouldn’t sleep (as in physically sleep, not have sex) with her. But my friends love the anecdotes I do put in. They love figuring out who I’m talking about. One friend of mine, after reading my first column, confessed to another that he felt so “in the know” because he recognized every reference I made in the column. I don’t think my friends have ever gotten particularly upset about being featured in my column; if anything, they’re flattered. I’ve had men who I’ve slept with and then said not-so-nice things about (or even nice things) get very upset though.
What’s been the strangest reaction you’ve gotten to it?
Oh god, this is a tough one. You’d be surprised at the random shit people say to you because they read your column. Ok, strangest? Probably the letter I got—which, by the way, was written on an index card—from some random Columbia grad in his forties after my losing-your-virginity column ran. He told me that I was very poignant for a writer my age and that I should know that. Hmm.
Which column was the most challenging to write and why?
The blowjob column. No doubt about it. The subject matter was really difficult for me to face, because it was so much more graphic and explicit than anything I’d ever written before, despite the fact that I desperately wanted to write well about it. It also coincided with my biggest writer’s crisis to-date: I had hit this point where I was freaking out about my column and whether or not I could pull my shit together and write well and interestingly and originally about sex anymore . . . I wasn’t sure what more I wanted to say or in what direction I wanted to take my column. I decided, in the end, that the best thing to do was face up to my fears and become more honest than ever, and that’s when the blowjob column came. I have never second-guessed myself more in my life than the day that column ran.
What have you learned about both yourself and your fellow students by writing the column?
I think the biggest thing I’ve learned about myself is that I don’t always like to admit things to myself. A lot of times I like to think that I can do everything—not just school and the paper and such, but to be the emotionally resilient one no matter what . . . to hold my head up high and be friends with an ex or to pretend that the guy I’m sleeping with means nothing to me when in fact, maybe that’s not exactly true. But writing this kind of column, and putting myself out on the line the way I do because of it, has really made me think twice about who I say I am and who I really am. And I’m not there yet. I don’t know if I’ll ever be completely there, but I’m getting closer and closer to the point where who I say I am and who I really am are one and the same. The other thing I’ve come to realize is how much I care about people. I don’t write about sex because it’s raunchy and fun and sexy even, I write about sex because I think the way people think and act about sex is a dynamic part of how people think and act with themselves and each other in all areas of life. People fascinate me. As for my fellow students, I think the biggest thing I’ve learned is how opinionated all of us are. Students generally either love or hate (more than life itself) my column. To that end, I think I’ve also learned how touchy a subject sex is for my fellow students—it’s easy to joke and laugh about sex, it’s not so easy to talk about things that make you feel vulnerable. It’s taught me a lot about how diverse a student body we have at Columbia—not in the traditional sense of diversity, but in the wealth of thoughts and opinions and voices we’ve got on campus.
Do you try to be inclusive of views other than your own, or do you feel you’re mostly expressing your unique viewpoint? Is it a challenge to be fair to all sides?
I try my absolute hardest to be inclusive of views other than my own, which obviously has to be taken with a grain of salt because it is a personal column. But I’m fascinated with what other people think and in addition to trying to include a male perspective in every column, I’ve written columns on bisexuality and relationships versus singles, etc. It’s hard to get it all in, but I think it’s so important to try, because the best way to initiate conversation is to tell people about things or perspectives they might not have already been familiar with.
How much editorial control over the column do you have? Are there topics/words that are off limits?
There aren’t really topics or words that are off limits. The Spectator isn’t funded by the university, so we don’t really have any of the-big-guy-is-paying-and-he-won’t-allow-it issues that other publications might have. I think it might be different if I were using curse words or dirty words in a column that was unsubstantiated or poorly written, or simply for the fun of using those words, but as it is I don’t really have any limits. I’m also an Associate Opinion Editor at the Spectator and as such have a little more editorial control over my column than some of the other columnists do.
Much has been made about the trend of college sex columnists, especially over the last five years. Where do you see yourself amongst your colleagues around the country, and are there any noteworthy sex columns you follow?
My perception (and I say perception because I don’t want to pass judgment on any of my fellow columnists) is that my column is very different from the others I’ve read. It seems to me that most college sex columns take on either more of a public health role (which is awesome), a sort of quoting-lots-of-people-on-campus approach, or are strictly personal. I feel like my column, while personal, tries to be more encompassing in such a way that the personal blends with a larger trend on campus and speaks to people on multiple levels. I try to avoid the interview style column and I don’t, for better or worse, focus on public health issues. The only sex column I follow on a regular basis is Mindy Friedman’s Sex on Tuesday at Berkeley's The Daily Cal (she rocks).
Do you want to write full-time after you leave college?
Yes. That said, I don’t want to only write about sex. Also, while I’d love to spend a few years after college writing, eventually I want to go to law school and get back into the human rights field.
You recently attended a symposium with Dr. Drew–can you tell me more about it?
Sure. Trojan put together this symposium with twelve college editors/writers (eleven women and one man), Dr. Drew, and four other panelists (I’m still not sure why Trojan organized this). I think it ended up being an excuse for most of the college editors to come to New York for free, as Mindy Friedman (from Berkeley) and I were the only two sex columnists there. Anyways, they gave us hotel rooms, food, a tour of CNN and then had us sit down to chat with Dr. Drew. To be completely honest, I was disappointed. Dr. Drew had some very valuable things to say, but the conversation we had centered almost completely on heterosexual relationships and consisted largely of Dr. Drew persistently telling us that men between the ages of 17 and 24 did not think with anything besides their dicks. He also harped on the whole hook-up scene and went on an Ariel Levy type tirade about how we must feel compromised and must be getting nothing out of our sex lives.
We hear a lot about how college campuses are full of depraved, sex-crazed kids, or, as you facetiously put it, "the Tom Wolfe-esque, atrocious, degrading sexual life style we all actually lead," and that imagery is often painted in a very alarming way. I graduated college in 1996; how has sex on campus changed since then?
I don’t know that I could tell you exactly how it’s changed, if at all, since 1996. My French teacher from high school reads my column, and he always comments on how it was the same exact thing in the sixties, only we didn’t talk about it the way you talk about it now. I think the most disturbing thing about “the Tom Wolfe-esque” sexual life we college students lead is how much it underestimates youth today. Just because we are in college and at times having sex without being in a relationship, or drunk, etc (and not everyone in college even is having sex at all!) doesn’t mean that we can’t make mistakes, or think about them, and learn. This is life. It doesn’t matter what age you are. There was a recent New York Times Magazine article about this Tom Wolfe perception, which discussed specifically the media’s recent alarm with “how long it’s taking America’s youth to grow up” these days (something like until 26). The author concludes in the end that there is no cause for alarm, because it’s not really any different than it ever was before. Isn’t all of life about growing up and doing stupid things and figuring out who you are? Isn’t sex in college, for all its ups and downs, whether you’re having it or not, whether you’re in a relationship or not, part of that too? Hasn’t it always been?
I think it’s also well-worth noting that President Bush has used Tom Wolfe’s book [I Am Charlotte Simms] to back up his case for abstinence-only education funding. The ideas that Tom Wolfe presents and that are so prevalent in the media at the moment are not only disturbing because they are basically disrespectful, but because they fuel initiatives like abstinence-only education, which has not only proven unsuccessful, but has warranted more STDs and teenage pregnancies! The best way to avoid the Tom Wolfe sexual lifestyle on campus is to educate teens about sex in a safe and healthy way; abstinence-only education only perpetuates the very attitude it is supposedly working against.
I wouldn’t normally ask this because I find it condescending, but since you shared your grandmother’s comment about your walk of shame column ("I thought your walk of shame column was hilarious. I could just picture you hobbling down college walk!"), I’m curious about your family’s reaction to the column. Do they read it? What do they think and is that relevant to you and does it affect the content of what you write?
Oh man. OK. So first there is my mother. The day my first column ran she insisted on reading it, despite my protests. She called me back after she read it—“it’s very well written,” she began. Giant pause. “But as a mother, it’s kind of hard to deal with you being so open about your sexuality.” She called back two times after that: the first time, about a half an hour later, to tell me she had a great idea for a column—“How about writing one about parents having to deal with their daughters becoming sex columnists?!” Great idea, mom, really. The next time she called back a good twenty-four hours had passed; she didn’t want to talk about my column, she wanted to talk about my sex life. Possibly the most awkward conversation we’ve ever had. I think I convinced her that, contrary to what she might think, I was not, have never been and still am not a loose slut. My grandmother, my mom’s mom, reads my columns and thinks they’re hilarious (witness the walk of shame comment). My uncle, my mom’s brother, reads it too. Of all the family members who read my column, his thoughts are the ones that are most relevant to me and matter the most. We talk about my columns rather extensively—both when I’m still developing an idea and once they run. His feedback is invaluable. Finally, my dad doesn’t read the column, never has, and has no desire to. The worst of it all is that my dad’s family, who are orthodox Jews, have no idea I write this column. I feel like I’m getting to the point where they’re going to find out or I’m going to have to tell them . . . the problem won’t be so much that I write a sex column but that writing a sex column means I must be having sex. And I don’t have a boyfriend. I try not to worry so much about what my family will think, because what I write is a part of me, and I shouldn’t ever worry about it, but sometimes its harder than others.
Who are your role models?
Wow. Let me think—my top three would probably have to be my uncle, my late grandfather, and my supervisor from my internship this summer. My uncle because he is the most self-aware person I know, and he is caring and thoughtful and an amazing father, not only to his wonderful seven-year-old daughter, but to me too. He is the kind of person I strive to be, both in my relationship with myself but with all the people I love, and someday my own family. My grandfather because he loved his family and his work so much (he was a political science professor who specialized in India and did a huge amount of work on child labor in India) and worked equally hard to make the most of, and spend the best quality time with, both. I can only hope that I will be able to strike that balance between writing and working for something I am so passionate about and family life. Finally, my supervisor from this summer is made out of steel (I worked in the U.S. Law & Security program at Human Rights First). Hina never stops, and she is just constantly putting all her time and effort into helping people who need it the most. It’s inspiring. I want to do that someday too.
What else do you write about?
Well, I’m on the editorial board at the Spectator, so I write a lot of staff edits (approximately once a week) on Columbia-related issues: everything from the meal plans and housing dilemmas to the pros and cons of early decision and the dangers of the large lecture style class. My favorite staff edit to date, was one I wrote about the RIAA’s decision to sue a number of Columbia students for file sharing. I did a lot of research on intellectual property rights; it was fascinating. I’ve also written a couple of (signed) editorials on sex-ed and the relationship between sex and feminism. Like I said, I love to write about people so the stuff I’m currently working on all has to do with relationships—one about my relationship with my mom, for example. In school, I do a lot of human rights and international security related stuff, and in line with that, this summer I contributed writing to an upcoming Human Rights First report that deals with deaths of detainees in U.S. custody.
Photo by Chris Glenn
Visit www.miriamdatskovsky.com for more information. Miriam Datskovsky’s Sexplorations column is published every other Monday in The Columbia Spectator.
