The Fallible Phallus: A discourse

analysis of male sexuality in a South

African men’s interest magazine
Vera Schneider
School of Human and Community Development (Psychology), University of the
Witwatersrand, P.O. WITS, 2050, South Africa
[email protected]

Kate Cockcroft
School of Human and Community Development (Psychology), University of the
Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa

Derek Hook
School of Human and Community Development (Psychology), University of the
Witwatersrand, Johannesburg, South Africa

This article presents a discourse analysis of the constructions of male sexuality in the South African
publication Men’s Health. The focus of the analysis was a series of monthly featured articles on
best sexual practices and behaviour. Since the magazine’s content appears to confront men with,
on the one hand, the construction of the ideal, potent phallus, and, on the other hand, the fallibility
inherent in attempting to live up to this ideal, the overarching discourse in the texts was termed the
‘Fallible Phallus’. By stipulating ideal sexual experiences and then juxtaposing these descriptions
with the threat of those moments not occurring, a paradox is created in the texts between the phallic
dominance of masculinity and the anxieties and insecurities that may result from sexual failure. The
Fallible Phallus discourse is a synthesis of four subsidiary themes derived from the texts, namely the
male sexual drive theme, the inadequacies of male sexuality, the rule book of sexual practices, and
the problematic nature of female sexuality. In the discussion of these themes, it is suggested that the
texts use male sexual performance as a yardstick for assessing level of masculinity.

Keywords: discourse analysis; male sexuality; masculinity; Men’s Health, men’s magazine; sexual
practices

Interest in the study of men and masculinity has grown extensively since the late 1970s
and early 1980s (Whitehead & Barrett, 2001). This is evidenced by the number of books,
newspaper and magazine articles, and journals published since that period, which focus
specifically on men’s issues (e.g., Men and Masculinities and Psychology of Men and
© Psychological Society of South Africa. All rights reserved.  South African Journal of Psychology, 38(1), 2008, pp. 136–151
ISSN 0081-2463
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Masculinity). While local interest in the area is growing, there is relatively little South
African research on men’s issues. Existing South African studies have examined how
masculinity is constructed through men’s drinking talk (Kaminer & Dixon, 1995), the
relationship between masculinity and gang process (Luyt & Foster, 2001), gendered
relationships in incarcerated men (Gear & Ngubeni, 2003), and the relationship between
coping in the workplace and sex role orientation (May & Spangenberg, 1997), among
others.
One area that has received both local and international attention is the way in which
men, their bodies, and conceptions of masculinity are represented in various forms of
media. For example, inspired by research on the ‘ideal’, thin woman portrayed in the
media, Pope, Phillips, and Olivardia (2000) assessed changing representations of men’s
bodies in the media, and found male models to be increasingly muscular. This preference
for muscularity was associated with the development of mild to extremely severe body
image concerns recently found in men, and referred to as the ‘Adonis Complex’. This
complex manifests in several ways, including excessive exercise and weightlifting, steroid
abuse, and eating disorders (Pope et al., 2000). A South African study concerning the
representation of men and masculinity found that men occupy more diverse roles than
women in the media, and that men are typically represented as active and heroic, while
women are represented passively, in posed or sexualised images (Media Monitoring
Project, 2005). In another study, Clowes (2003) analysed changing constructions of
masculinity and fatherhood between 1951 and 1965 in Drum, a South African magazine.
Although this magazine was published by white men, the content was aimed at, and
written by, urban black men. In the early 1950s, emphasis was placed on men’s personal
relationships and responsibilities in domestic life (including washing dishes and playing
with children). However, by the mid 1960s, the gender division of labour seemed to have
solidified and men were increasingly represented outside of domestic affairs, having
little or no emotional or physical attachments to their families (Clowes, 2003). While it
is difficult to explain the cause of this changing representation of men, a few suggestions
have been attempted. For example, the changes may, at least partly, reflect the shift in
familial structure at the time, as fewer black families were living together (due to influx
control and pass laws). There may also have been changes in the persons who produced
the magazine content, and/or the Western discourse of the non-nurturing father may have
been adopted into the articles (Clowes, 2003).
In the current South African context, discourses of masculinity may reflect the changes
that feminism and democratisation have brought to the status of South African men (e.g.,
an emphasis on values of equality, non-racism, non-sexism, and equal opportunity). Issues
facing men living in South Africa’s reconstructed society were discussed in a 1998 special
edition of Agenda (see for example, Daphne, 1998; Morrell, 1998). In his book Changing
Men in Southern Africa, Morrell (2001) explored how South Africa was traditionally
a ‘man’s country’, where power was exercised and held by men. While discriminatory
laws normalised and supported patriarchal practices, the powers of masculinity did not

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Vera Schneider, Kate Cockcroft and Derek Hook

necessarily extend to all men equally. Political and legal discrimination meant that black
men experienced a form of emasculation, while white men were afforded disproportionate
power and advantage (Morrell, 2001). In a later paper, Morrell (2004) noted that, despite
affirmative action and preference given to previously disadvantaged groups, men still
remain the primary decision makers and earners. This does not mean that men are
unaffected by the democratic changes. Rather, men have been encouraged to support
gender transformation, and to change their behaviours to become ‘new men’ (Morrell,
2004). Given that constructions of masculinity are fluid, the goals for South African men
appear to be unclear, possibly with the exception of a need to reconceptualise their position
in society and to develop a more democratised form of masculinity.
This article presents a consideration of men’s sexuality, including their sexual behaviour
and sexual practices. It is situated in a poststructuralist approach and thus assumes that
language and discourse offer competing, and potentially contradictory, ways of giving
meaning to the world (Parker, 1990). Discourses offer variable positions and degrees
of power to groups, and legitimise particular experiences over others (Burr, 1995). For
example, in terms of sexual practices, heterosexual discourses are usually constructed
as the norm, while other sexual orientations tend to be stigmatised and constructed as
perversions (Miles, 1997; Ussher, 1997). Social constructionism holds that all forms of
categorisation and labelling, including the terms ‘masculine’ and ‘feminine’, are socially
constructed. This implies that ‘correct’ behaviour for men and women is dependent on both
the culture and time that created and sustained it (Davis & Gergen, 1997). It also implies
that there is no single, universal essence to masculinity or femininity, but rather that there
are a multiplicity of experiences for men and women, and manifold meanings attached to
being masculine or feminine (Burr, 1995; Connell, 2000; Whitehead, 2002). However, in
many societies there is a hierarchy of masculinities, and the culturally dominant form is
designated as hegemonic (Connell, 2000, 2002). While the hegemonic form may change
over time, the dominant form at a particular point in time is contained in discourses that
normalise certain behaviours for men (Stibbe, 2004).
Masculinity may have competing, contradictory, and multiple attributes, but the
attainment, achievement, and reinforcement of a sense of self as masculine is often linked
to sexuality and sexual practice. For example ‘sexuality is not about mutual pleasuring,
but the confirmation of masculinity, which is based on physical capacities’ (Kimmel, 1990,
p. 104), ‘heterosexual performance may be the mainstay of masculine identity …’ (Segal,
1990, p. 210) and ‘… male dominance is achieved through heterosexuality’ (Kitzinger &
Wilkinson, 1997, p. 408). These quotes imply that men’s sexual failures challenge their
sense of self as masculine (Kimmel, 1990). In other words, sex may be a contradictory
experience for men as a source of both pleasure and power, consequently reinforcing
masculinity while simultaneously producing feelings of anxiety about possible sexual
failure, which threaten masculine identity (Ussher, 1997). Thus, there is a contradiction
between the illusive, powerful, phallocentric ideal of masculinity and the unattainability
of this ideal (e.g., Potts, 2000; Segal, 1990).

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Hollway (1984, 1989) noted that sex is a domain wherein different and unequal subject
positions are afforded to men and women. For example, men are typically thought to be
driven by a physiological need to actively seek out and initiate sex, while women are
expected to be passive, and to have little interest in sex (Hall, 1991). In some instances,
men are positioned as the ‘norm’, while women are constructed as ‘other’, and imbued
with a ‘lack’ or ‘emptiness’ (Frosh, 1994). Even in current youth magazines, males are
portrayed as sexually driven, with no mention of females as having similar drives and
desires. For example, Firminger (2006) analysed the portrayal of male behaviour in
popular teenage girls’ magazines. A dominant theme that emerged was the separation of
sex from intimacy by males, while responsibility was placed with females to choose the
‘right guy’ (who can control his sex drive and who values more than just appearances),
as opposed to the ‘bad guy’ (who has a high sex drive, is emotionally inexpressive, and is
attracted to superficial appearances) (Firminger, 2006).
Previous theory and research on sexuality identified several versions and discourses of
sexuality at different points in time. For example, Michel Foucault (1979) identified four
strategic units that dominated nineteenth-century knowledge about sex. These were the
masturbating child, the abnormality of perverse pleasure, the socialisation of procreative
behaviour (‘the Malthusian couple’), and the female hysteric. Later research by Hollway
(1984, 1989) identified three contradictory discourses, namely the male sex drive, the
have/hold discourse, and the permissive discourse. The male sex drive discourse has been
mentioned in other research, including a South African study, where men were constructed
as needing sex, always available for sex, and possessing physical urges that were beyond
their control (Shefer & Ruiters, 1998). While men noted that sex was a means of proving
themselves as men, women were described as less sexual and as viewing sex within the
domain of love (Shefer & Ruiters, 1998).
The current study analysed the way in which male sexuality is represented in the South
African male interest magazine Men’s Health, and highlights the implications of these
representations for masculinity. While magazines aimed at women have been published
for many years in South Africa (such as Fair Lady, since 1965, and Sarie, since 1949)
(Naspers, 2006), men’s lifestyle magazines only started to gain international momentum
in the late 1980s and 1990s (Stevenson, Jackson, & Brooks, 2003). In South Africa, two
popular men’s magazines, Men’s Health and FHM, were launched comparatively later in
1997 and 1999 respectively (Naspers, 2006). Earlier magazines targeted at men focused
on hobbies (such as fishing or cars), rather than being about men themselves (Edwards,
2003). Gill (2003, p. 43) speculated that the creation of men’s lifestyle magazines may
be problematic because men ‘lacked self-consciousness about their sex’, and there was
uncertainty as to whether men would buy a magazine that dealt with being a man, men’s
fashion, and men’s issues. While women’s magazines had typically treated their readers
like friends, it was deemed important for men’s magazines to avoid being associated with
homosexuality, and so the magazines spoke to readers as ‘mates’, and overemphasised
women’s bodies and heterosexual sex (Gill, 2003). Similarly, Edwards (2003) described

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men’s magazines, at least those published in Britain, as all about ‘sex, booze and fags’
(p. 132). It has been argued that these magazines were a response to the dilemma of
reconstructing masculinities and provided clarity on what it means to be a man, since the
magazines reflected a variety of versions of masculinity, and sometimes contested and
negotiated the meanings of these masculinities (Benwell, 2003). However, it is unclear
whether these magazines have responded to the demands of men, whether they were merely
commercial initiatives, or how the magazines have affected men (Edwards, 2003).
Men’s Health magazine, which forms the focus of this study, is an international brand
magazine, but the South African version is written and produced locally. Stibbe (2004, p.
32) described the American version of Men’s Health as ‘providing for men what women
have had for a very long time, that is, a lifestyle magazine that gives advice on every aspect
of living, from sex to shoes and, incidentally, health’. As with the South Africa magazine,
the American version is targeted at a middle to upper socio-economic group. The message
to advertisers in the South African version of Men’s Health stipulates that ‘[Men’s Health]
provides focused penetration directly at the affluent male market delivering sophisticated,
upscale males to discerning advertisers’ (Stibbe, 2004, p. 34). In his analysis of the
American version, Stibbe (2004) argued that Men’s Health reflects middle- to upper-class
white males’ dissatisfaction with sexual equality and equality with other groups. For
example, in an article in the September 2000 issue, which bore the title ‘138 Things a man
should never apologise for’, the list included ‘reading pornography regularly’, ‘calling
women girls’, and ‘putting your feet up on something … like say your wife’ (Stibbe, 2004,
p. 35). In addition, readers were urged to have control over themselves, other women, and
other men. Consistent with suggestions by Pope et al. (2000), Men’s Health emphasised
that the only desirable body for men is one with big muscles, and that men should work to
increase their body size. There is a commercial value to such a message, because, without
considerable effort, men will not look like the cover pages, and so readers will continue to
buy the magazine in the hope of a ‘short-cut’ to a better, more ideal body (Stibbe, 2004).
The ideal man was also encouraged to be a meat eater and beer drinker, to avoid cooking
(a traditionally female activity), and to favour convenience food. Of particular relevance
to the present research was the construction of the ideal man as a ‘sexual champion’
(Stibbe, 2004). Accordingly, Men’s Health offers techniques for having a lot of great sex
in every issue, but no mention is made of safe sex or risks involved in sex. The goals and
tips provided on how to satisfy partners appear more likely to create anxiety in men about
not living up to the performance, and hence ensure that readers continue purchasing the
magazine for more tips. Finally, Stibbe (2004) referred to two discourses emerging from
the text, namely that of ‘the buddy’ and ‘the discourse of medical science’. ‘The buddy’
discourse addresses the reader as a concerned male friend, and explains, mediates, and
interprets the medical science used in the text. It is this style of communicating that is
likely to draw readers to buy the magazine, as they can identify with a friend speaking to
them ‘man to man’, telling them what they want to hear in order to be better men (Stibbe,
2004).

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An analysis of various men’s magazines available in Britain (such as FHM, Maxim,

Arena, GQ, and Men’s Health) also found that the magazines adopt a storytelling approach
where they converse with the readers as friends, providing advice and tips in a non-
patronising way. ‘The language employed by the magazines is “familiar”, producing a
sense of mediated intimacy between the “lads” who run the magazine and their (assumed
to be equally “laddish”) readers’ (Stevenson et al., 2003, p. 120). These authors suggested
that the relationship between the magazine and the reader is hierarchical, with the
magazine holding an expert and trusted status. In their study, male focus groups explored
consumer culture and masculinity in the context of men’s magazines. Some magazines
(like Loaded) were identified as being more honest, while others (such as GQ) were
referred to as more pretentious and superficial. Men’s Health magazine was referred to in
the context of ‘openness’, and was described as a magazine that encourages men to talk
about themselves, and to explore their attitudes to sexuality, health, and fashion (topics
that were previously avoided). However, it was mentioned that Men’s Health does this
in a humorous, non-intrusive way, which allows the reader to distance himself from any
possible anxiety or embarrassment. Stevenson et al.’s (2003) study also examined the
content of articles on sexual issues in men’s magazines. While no direct reference was
made to Men’s Health magazine, it was noted that such articles typically reinforce binary
distinctions between men and women, with the former portrayed as wanting sex and the
latter as requiring trust and intimacy. The authors concluded that ‘it is the magazines’
capacity to be able to accommodate both more “open” and reflexive aspects of modernity
along with the certitude of tradition that most convincingly explains their appeal’
(Stevenson et al., 2003, p. 128).
It is evident that male sexuality is not a simple, biological issue with little or no
psychological or emotional connection. Rather, it appears to be the site of several tensions
for men, as sexual performance and practice seem to be related to an affirmation or denial
of masculinity. As a result, the content of men’s interest magazines appears to confront
men with, on the one hand, the ideal, potent phallus, and, on the other hand, the fallibility
inherent in attempting to live up to this ideal. How this overarching theme, as well as a
number of subsidiary themes, was arrived at is presented in the remainder of this article.

METHOD
Sample
Monthly featured articles on best sexual practices and behaviours were analysed from the
South African publication Men’s Health, spanning the months September 1999 to August
2002. In editions where two articles discussed sexual behaviour and practices, both articles
were included in the analysis. Men’s Health, with its catch phrase ‘Tons of useful stuff’, is
a monthly publication that was first published in South Africa in 1997, and is available only
in English (Naspers, 2006). The magazine has readership demographics of mostly middle

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to upper income men (Stibbe, 2004). It recorded a 90 058 average-per-issue circulation for
the months July to December 2005 (Naspers, 2006). In September 1999, the magazine cost
R14.95 which increased to R22.95 in August 2002. At the time of conducting the study,
Men’s Health seemed to be the most common men’s magazine available for purchase in
South Africa.

Data analysis
Discourse analysis was used to infer the constructions of male sexuality and masculinity
in the texts. While there are no set rules for effecting a discourse analysis, the analysis
was loosely guided by Parker’s (1992) ‘twenty-step guidelines’ for recognising discourse.
The focus was on ‘Why was this said and not that? Why these words, and where do the
connotations of the words fit with different ways of talking about the world?’ (Parker,
1992, p. 4). This was done by means of careful and repeated reading of material in search
of recurring themes. These themes were often contradictory, and functioned to normalise
particular behaviours (Parker, 1990). It is important to note that discourse analysis is not a
critical reading for ‘truth’, but rather a reading of the flow of power created by different uses
of language (Deacon, Golding, Pickering, & Murdock, 1999). Since this article presents an
interpretative account of masculinity and sexuality, the findings are not held to be objective
or generalisable.
In the initial stages of analysis, data were grouped by content into more manageable
themes, and, in line with Parker’s (1992) approach, the possible meanings and connotations
of the texts were explored. Next, the analyst identified and described the objects and
subjects in the text, and, in the case of the latter, explored how the subjects’ positioning in
the text allowed or restricted their ways of speaking. Following from this, analysts were
encouraged to view a discourse ‘as a coherent system of meanings’ (Parker, 1992, p. 10),
and to sketch out the world the discourse represents. In accordance with further guidelines,
contradictory or alternative representations of masculinity and sexual practices in the text
were inferred, and attempts were made to infer the broader context of the highlighted
themes. The interpretations were then compared to other documented representations of
men’s sexual practices and sexuality. Parker (1992) provides further auxiliary criteria
that should be worked through: Analysts should identify institutions that are attacked
or reinforced when the discourse is used, explore how the discourse reproduces power
relations, and interpret the ideological effects of the discourse.

RESULTS AND DISCUSSION

Promising ‘better sex tonight’ (July, 2002, cover page), Men’s Health relates to its reader
as a friend who has learned from past mistakes and has developed a repertoire of skills
and knowledge to ‘coach’ less experienced and inept men. The magazine plays on men’s
fallibilities, and, as noted in an analysis of the American Men’s Health (Stibbe, 2004),

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men are constructed as being in need of advice on how to overcome their difficulties. In
the current study, men’s sexual practices were not presented as a simple biological issue,
but rather as the site of various anxieties and insecurities that contradict the traditional
conceptualisation of men as strong, powerful, and in control. The result is an apparent
paradox between the expected phallic dominance of masculinity and the way in which the
‘phallic talk’ generates anxieties and ineptitudes. As with other research (e.g., Hollway,
1994, 1998; Shefer & Ruiters, 1998), male sexuality was constructed, on the one hand, as
uncomplicated, biologically driven, and focused on the penis. On the other hand, these
representations were contradicted by the simultaneous constructions of anxiety and
insecurity over sexual performance, and a resultant need for help and advice regarding
sexual practices. The overarching discourse in the texts was termed the ‘Fallible Phallus’.
This is a synthesis of four subsidiary and contradictory themes, namely the male sexual
drive theme, the inadequacies of male sexuality, the rule book of sexual practice, and the
problematic nature of female sexuality. Each theme is discussed below and illustrated with
selected, emblematic examples.

The male sexual drive theme

Everyone’s heard of Kegel exercises, the repeated flexing of the pubococcygeus (PC) muscles,
which control urinary flow. Well, of all the reasons to do them, including the ability to hold out
longer during sex, this may be the most compelling: ‘Developing your PC muscles may increase
the width of your penis a fraction of an inch’, says Alex Robboy, a sex researcher and the creator
of www.howtohavegood sex.com. It’s not much but we’ll take it (July, 2002, p. 70).

In this theme, men’s need, desire, and experience of sex are biologically based, and are
seen in the many references to the penis, erections, and ejaculation. Here, it is essential
to possess a large penis, the ability to maintain firm and lasting erections, and to strive
for ‘more size, more sighs!’ (March, 2002, cover page). This resonates with Potts’s (2000)
statement that, in many instances, an erection is the essence of male sexuality, and that the
‘sexed’ male body corresponds to the erect penis. Colman (2001, p. 124) noted that ‘most,
if not all, men’s feelings and fantasies about their sexuality cluster around the image of
the erect penis, which thus becomes the central image in what might be called the phallic
complex’.
By isolating the physical aspects of sex, male sexuality is divorced from a
psychological or emotional dimension. For example, the phrase ‘every erection is
different. Some are best suited for a romantic night by the fire. Others are made
for a sweaty romp in the barn’ (March, 2002, p. 80), avoids any mention of men’s
psychological investment in the sexual act. This may be driven by the belief that
emotion is antithetical to the definition of masculinity, and, in order to be distinguished
from femininity, sex must be separated from emotion and limited to the functioning
of the body (Brod, 1990; Frosh, 1994). The male sex drive is goal orientated and
preoccupied with the achievement of male and female orgasm. For example, ‘Think

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of it as a game of sexual Cluedo: your partner’s Miss Scarlett, and it’s not crimes
that interest you but climaxes’ (August, 2002, p. 65), and ‘during your anniversary,
think ahead to the celebratory cork-pop you’ll enjoy later’ (March, 2002, p. 80). This
representation of biologically based and goal orientated male sexuality is consistent
with findings from earlier research (e.g., Hollway, 1984, 1989).
In grounding male sexuality primarily as a biological ‘force of nature’, male sexuality
is made unproblematic and straightforward, negating any possibility of anxieties
resulting from feelings of inadequacy or not being found desirable (Metcalf, 1985). This
simplification of male sexuality might also be embedded in social constructions that have
consistently made female sexuality comparatively problematic, thus affording masculinity
a preferential status (Burr, 1998). While the ‘biological’ male appears outwardly trouble-
free, latent in the text is the suggestion that the preoccupation with male physiological
functioning and the penis is not just a concern about anatomical reality, but also possibly
a reflection of a deeper psychological insecurity about oneself as a man. In other words,
the man’s ability to seek out and adequately perform sex serves either to consolidate or
deny his masculine gender identity (Frosh, 1994). This suggests that the organ (the penis)
constructed as symbolic of masculinity (the phallus), is also an organ that can threaten
masculinity (through failure). This paradoxical position is emphasised in the next theme,
namely the inadequacies of male sexuality.

The inadequacies of male sexuality

A contradiction was inferred in the text between the male sex drive theme and the
systematic production of male insecurities. The latter theme appears to highlight how the
biological male is riddled with a series of anxieties about sexual performance. While men
are presented in the magazines as desiring and seeking out sexual activity, they are also
constructed as inadequate and inept in this domain, particularly with regard to satisfying
women. This interpretation is consistent with Segal’s (1990) statement that it is through sex
that men experience their greatest uncertainties, feelings of ineptness, and dependence in
relation to women.
The average guy thrusts 90 times per session. A bit much isn’t it? And for what? She may still not
be satisfied. (July, 2002, p. 73)

Try as you might — and we know how hard you try — you’re never going to hit all the right spots
exactly the way she wants you to. So let her climb on top and take control. (June, 2002, p. 58)

This theme positions men as the subject of the sexual act, but without a natural ability
to carry out this act correctly. There is thus a contrast between the irresistible, fully
functioning male (from the male sex drive theme), and the male who has anxieties and
potential problems with regard to sexual functioning. There is an inherent assumption
in the magazine’s content that the reader is sexually unskilled and inexperienced so that
Men’s Health needs to step in to assist and explain to its readers how they can improve. In

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order to be better lovers, and to provide a yardstick for measuring improvement, a series
of comparative rating scales and indices of ‘normal’ sexual practices and masculinity is
provided. For example, ‘The average guy has 12 sex partners in his lifetime. You can do
better’ (July, 2002, p. 71), and ‘The average guy stands a 1-in-3 chance of going limp’ (July,
2002, p. 73).
The construction of the performance and goal-orientated male (also seen in the male sex
drive theme) implies that sex is a competitive domain, which includes mastery of sexual
practice, and an element of overcoming a difficult challenge (the female). This theme
requires men to compare themselves to other men, for example: ‘We’re paying tribute
to the average guy. Again. And this time we’re sneaking a look at his sex life. Find out
what’s typical in the sack — and how to make your sexual performance nothing less than
superior’ (July, 2002, p. 68). This contrasts the ‘biological’ male with the ‘inadequate’
male who is distressed by the threat of sexual incompetence. It is within this context that
the third theme, namely the rule book of sexual practice, can best be understood.

The rule book of sexual practice

Something can only be a success if it is done in a well thought-out, cleverly planned and
determined fashion. The same goes for sex. (February, 2002, p. 39)

Having created the notion of the inept male, Men’s Health then proceeds to set out for men
what they should be seeking to achieve, as well as the means to accomplish this. As found
in other analyses (e.g., Stibbe, 2004), it was inferred that Men’s Health presents itself as a
‘buddy’ who attempts to ‘coach’ his friend on sexual performance using rule books, codes,
and scenarios of sexual practices.
The first thing they taught you in school, besides that bit about glue not being food, was the
alphabet. Why? Because once you had that down pat, the rest of the English language was at your
fingertips. Sex is the same way: once you know the basics, you can string small tricks together to
guarantee your partner a triple-letter-scoring orgasm. Here are 26 good reasons (strangely in
alphabetical order) to learn the ABCs of S-E-X. (December, 2001, p. 43)

While apparent in all themes, the coaching and ‘man to man’ style of communicating is
most noticeable in this theme. It was inferred that the magazine tries to connect with the
reader by acknowledging that it knows what men are struggling with, that it knows what
the difficulties are, and that it can help. For example, ‘The scenes you are going to act
out tonight are worthy of an Oscar. We’ve written the script The Perfect Night for you
— dramatically good sex guaranteed’ (February, 2002, p. 38), and ‘From my personal
bag of tricks I offer you this guaranteed way to get a woman going …’ (June, 2001, p.
46). By listening to their friend, and following the schemes and advice for refining and
mastering techniques, readers are assured that they will have better sex and win approval
from women. By implication, when the sexual act is performed correctly, the reward is an
affirmed masculinity, but when it is done incorrectly, masculinity is placed in doubt.

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Related to this ‘instruction manual’ theme is the way in which sexual practice is
predetermined and mechanised:
Wrap her in your arms, straddle groin-to-groin. Legs intertwined, complete the link with your
third lower limb. Now support her with your arms behind her back as you let her hands drop to
the bed by her sides. Run one finger from breast to pubis, causing her elbows to bend as she leans
her torso back. (September, 1999, p. 44)

Once you’ve entered her, hold on to her hips and place the back of her heels on your shoulders,
so her hips and open labia are flush against you, giving you a great view of the action. Her back
should be in a straight line, which is easiest if she locks her heels over your shoulders. (June,
2002, p. 62)

The need for guidance and scripts for men emphasised in Men’s Health contrasts male
and female sexuality, because sexual practices are not something which the female is
constructed as needing to learn. In fact, sex seems more natural and spontaneous for
women because the gimmicks and ploys suggested to men will awaken in women pre-
existing likes. In contrast, men seem to need instruction in how to use the female body to
their best advantage, and require this to confirm their skills as a lover and a man. It is this
restructuring of traditional female sexuality which forms the basis of the fourth theme,
namely the problematic nature of female sexuality.

The problematic nature of female sexuality

There is a commonplace assumption that sexual difference lies in the physiology of
women’s and men’s bodies, and that these biological distinctions imply that women and
men have polarised traits, temperaments, and abilities (Edley & Wetherell, 1995). This
may lead to assumed differences in men’s and women’s attitudes and experiences of sex
(e.g., Firminger, 2006). This was inferred in Men’s Health, where the male sexual drive
was simple in comparison to the female’s more complex and problematic sexual drive and
experiences.
Important: 89 percent of women need approximately 10 times as long as men in order to get into
gear sexually. (February, 2002, p. 41)

Being a visual creature, you want sex with the lights on; being a paranoid creature, she wants sex
with the lights off. (August, 2002, p. 69)

Unlike men, women are portrayed as having the potential to be aroused in various ways and
to have multiple orgasms. For example, ‘Once you know the basics [of sex], you can string
small tricks together to guarantee your partner a triple-letter-scoring orgasm’ (December,
2001, p. 43), compared to ‘Because you’re a man, you have what is called a refractory
period. That’s the amount of time it takes after ejaculation before you can bring another
erection to lift off’ (March, 2002, p. 80). This does not mean, however, that women are
constructed as having greater desire for sex or that they have more sexual prowess. In some

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instances, women are presented as having an equivalent desire for sex to men. For example,
‘Hey, we’re women of the new millennium — we’re busy, and we’re just as horny as you
are. Promise. As far as we’re concerned, foreplay can be optional — as long as you can
perform one of these lust-provoking tricks’ (June, 2001, p. 41). The choice of the words ‘just
as horny’ as opposed to ‘more’ removes any threat of women being more eager to have sex
than men. Men’s Health also reassures its readers that even if they do struggle to stimulate
female orgasm, that is not necessary for a woman to be satisfied. For example:
Technically, orgasm isn’t even necessary for a woman to benefit. (The sound of male cheers fill
the auditorium). (December, 2001, p. 44)

Women seem to be mysterious, a site of great treasures to be explored, and men need
to demystify and conquer women for their own sense of masculinity. It would seem that
Men’s Health emphasises the complexity of female sexuality, and urges its readers to think
beyond vaginal penetration. Men’s Health explains that sex for women is a physical and
psychological phenomenon, and that in order to arouse her a man must use physical and
sensory stimulation. For example, ‘The more senses you can engage during sex, the better.
Think about music, smell and texture’ (August, 2002, p. 69). This is deemed important
because, unlike the simplified male whose interest in sex is focused on the penis, women
are more complicated and have several erogenous zones and different ways in which to be
sexually aroused. For example, ‘The anterior fornix erotic (AFE) zone — listen closely
now, the directions aren’t on Mapquest — is located about two or three centimetres up
the backside of the vaginal wall, opposite the elusive G-spot’ (June, 2001, p. 46) and ‘You
finally located her G-spot and thought you’d found the Grail. Not so fast. There’s another
female erogenous zone that needs your attention, and you don’t need a mining lamp to find
it. The U-spot resides at the opening of the urethra, just in front of the vaginal opening’
(December, 2001, p. 48).
The simple, detached, biologically driven male is contrasted with women, who seem
to require a more holistic approach to sex. While this makes her sexual experience more
complex, women’s sexual satisfaction and pleasure is portrayed as a focal point of male
sexuality.
More orgasms for her equals more sack time for both of you. (May, 2001, p. 48)

Her orgasms don’t just make her feel good, they’re an undeniable marker of your success in the
sack. The fewer she has, the wimpier you feel. (June, 2001, p. 121)

Woman who do not achieve orgasm or who are unfulfilled by the man’s performance
represent a threat for masculinity. Thus, the magazine continues to encourage men to
sexually satisfy their women, and explains to its readers that this is not an easy task.
Men are encouraged to think that, unlike the simple, straightforward approach they have
to enjoying sex and achieving orgasm, women require coaxing and tricks to ‘get in the
mood’. This includes the rules and techniques discussed in the rule book theme, such as ‘10
legendary sex tricks she won’t resist’ (November, 2001, cover page).

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Men’s Health appears to construct a paradox between the ability of women to have
many fulfilling orgasms and their need to be coerced into sexual acts. While this may
suggest a flaw in female sexuality, men are constructed as reliant on women’s achievement
of sexual satisfaction before they are able to attain their own gratification (Frosh, 1994).
Thus, the extent to which a man can sexually pleasure a woman will determine the extent
to which his self-esteem and masculinity is confirmed. In other research, masculinity has
been positioned as dominant to femininity (e.g., Hollway, 1984, 1989). However, in Men’s
Health, it seems that women are not placed as the subordinate ‘other’, but rather as central
in affirming male sexuality, to the point where women are actually empowered.

CONCLUSION
Arising from the seemingly contradictory themes presented in the magazine, the overarching
discourse is described here as the ‘Fallible Phallus’. This is because the erotic and seductive
sexual moments that are represented as possible and desirable for men are simultaneously
juxtaposed with the threat of those moments not occurring, and the insecurity that may
result. The magazine cultivates a ‘concerned friend’ relationship between itself and the
reader, and, as noted by Stibbe (2004), this is likely to encourage men to continue to buy
the magazine in the hope that they will be able to become more masculine.
In the present study, male sexuality as presented by Men’s Health magazine does not
appear to be a simple issue. Rather, it was interpreted to be fragmented, contradictory,
and inconsistent. On the one hand, consistent with other studies (e.g., Shefer & Ruiters,
1998; Stevenson et al., 2003) male sexuality is constructed as biological, uncomplicated,
and in contrast to the more complex female sexuality. In some ways, this polarity affords
men greater power and status over the ‘problematic’ female. However, women are also
presented as superior to men in terms of sexual pleasure (for example, through their ability
to have multiple orgasms) and, because female orgasm is seen as crucial to men’s sexual
encounters, women’s sexual satisfaction serves as a precondition to men’s own sexual
gratification and affirmation of their masculinity. This interpretation sets the current
analysis apart from early work on men’s sexual behaviour which typically held the female
as objectified and passive and the male as dominant and uncomplicated (e.g., Hollway,
1984, 1989).
The biological male sex drive theme inferred in Men’s Health is contrasted with
representations of men as racked with feelings of inadequacy and anxiety about their
sexual performance. In line with Stibbe’s (2004) arguments, Men’s Health prescribes
techniques that claim to bring men sexual greatness. In the present analysis, the magazine
plays on the constructed anxieties of men, and provides latent reminders to the reader of
the illusiveness of sexual greatness. This removes men from their traditionally empowered
position, and the constructions of male sexuality in the magazine move beyond that of the
male sex drive (Hollway, 1984, 1989) to the anxiety created by the disjuncture between
the ideal phallus and the ineptitudes of the real penis (Potts, 2000). It is possible that

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this theme may be related to the current situation in South African society where some
men may feel emasculated without their patriarchal and decision-making power (Morrell,
1998, 2001), and need to find ways to assert and reclaim their sense of masculinity.
It is important to note that the arguments developed in this article are limited to the
authors’ interpretation of the data and the texts sampled. There is considerable scope
for further research in the area of men’s sexuality. For example, this research could be
extended to investigate the relationship between text and practice, by exploring whether
an endorsement of the views of Men’s Health magazine is linked to particular practices or
patterns of behaviour. Further research could also examine other male interest magazines
and other forms of media to understand how male sexuality is represented, and whether
these representations change when the target readership is of a different culture or
socioeconomic status to that of the current study. The construction of male sexuality in
women’s magazines could also be considered to infer whether comparable power relations
are working in such texts.

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