America, we have a problem: No one is having sex anymore. With the exception of Gen X women, there is a sharp decline in sexual activity across the nation. The consistent attacks on birth control and reproductive rights, in addition to the rise of tradwives and more traditional forms of motherhood, have no doubt contributed to an environment in the United States where sex feels like not only a means to an end (a baby), but also an inherently fearful act. To put it plainly: we do not live in a sexy economy. So, when Sabrina Carpenter released the cover art for her upcoming album Man’s Best Friend, it was no surprise that she ruffled a few feathers— and became yet another placeholder for America’s sexual frustrations.
[time-brightcove not-tgx=”true”]On the cover of Man’s Best Friend, Carpenter is seen in a black mini-dress, while an out-of-frame man pulls on her hair, insinuating a sexual act. The cover was instantly dubbed as “controversial,” though Carpenter is no stranger to that. Her recent stage performances and choreography have become the topic of conversation online among parents who view her as a bad role model for children. In a Rolling Stone cover story, the singer said that her critics are responsible for her music’s notoriety. “It’s always so funny to me when people complain,” Carpenter explained. “They’re like, ‘All she does is sing about this.’ But those are the songs that you’ve made popular. Clearly, you love sex. You’re obsessed with it.”
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She’s not wrong. There is a lack of attention towards her acoustic numbers, which are often simplified, intimate moments where she waxes poetically about heartbreak, as compared to her exaggerated, risque acts, in which she engages in touch-in-cheek roleplay with her dancers. (Think her Eiffel Tower reference at her Paris show) The latter is heavily documented and shared on social media platforms, while the former is rarely shown outside of her tour stops.
She’s also not the first pop star to be accused of sexual immorality. In fact, it is a perverse rite of passage in our pop culture landscape. Just think about the scores of pop stars that have had to endure the same thing: Janet Jackson, Madonna, Britney Spears, Christina Aguilera. Ronald Reagan was in office when Jackson released her euphoric single “Pleasure Principle.” George H.W. Bush was in the midst of a presidential election campaign when Madonna published her “scandalous” Sex coffee book, which was banned in several countries. George Bush was Commander in Chief when Spears and Aguilera left their girl-next-door personas in favor of sexier images. Sexism is not unique to the music industry, nor is racism, but the standards placed upon women in the music industry are reflective of the societal and cultural norms of the era in which they are performing. The existence of conservatism, which is as rampant as ever in President Donald Trump’s second administration, runs in direct opposition to sex-positive pop stars.
Although the majority of Americans are not having sex, the overt response to Carpenter’s album cover points to the fact that, perhaps, they want to. But instead of being honest about their sexual desires, people pin their frustrations onto society’s most visible. This includes pop stars.
Because here’s the thing: The problem is not that she is emulating sex positions on stage, or that she is on her hands and knees on her album cover. It is neither an attempt to glamorize intimate partner violence nor is it an introductory 101 course on pup play. The problem is the federal actions that have been taken to defund and restrict access to sex education services in the U.S.. The problem is the nation’s swing back to conservative idealism, which disproportionately (and negatively) impacts women, people of color, and queer and trans people—all in the name of “family values.” The problem is we are farther away from making sex fun—and pleasurable—for women than we’ve ever been.
Perhaps Carpenter did not intend to be a participant in the ongoing culture war of sex and conservatism in the U.S. when she released the cover art for Man’s Best Friend. Perhaps she is one of the few Americans not experiencing a sex recession. (Which, good for her!) But this album cover does feel like her attempt to participate in a cherished tradition for women in pop music. It is her declaration that women should have agency over their sexuality—just like so many pop stars have done before her.
Above all, the Man’s Best Friend cover art did reveal a deep truth in our insecure American consciousness: The inability to engage in healthy sexual behaviors, which is exacerbated by the influx of conservative content on social media, makes women who are confident in their sexual wants and desires the subject of unfair criticism and attack. It’s scary to them just because of how free it looks.
Sabrina Carpenter is not the problem. Our lack of orgasms is.
