Liquid projection pulses through the body, a canal where liquids constantly flow in and out. The signifier Squirt evokes a stark gender asymmetry in sexual arousal, rupturing boundaries at a moment when boundaries lose all relevance. This act becomes a social Proof-of-Stake in the Great Cold War of the Genders—a metaphysical power struggle that frames Squirt as miraculous yet trivial, potent yet mundane. Often, we misattribute the source, imagining the vagina as the sole actor.
The British Board of Film Classification declares Squirt a profanity, a perversion, demanding both censure and censorship for daring to stray from normative reproduction. With confident precision, they label Squirt as nothing more than an excretion flowing from the urethra. But this synecdoche—reducing the whole to a single part—is like arguing the tail wags the dog or that German tunnels manufacture German cars and German passengers simply because those tunnels happen to be German. This kind of anatomical reductionism is not explanatory; it’s a cheap sleight of hand, mistaking complexity for simplicity and missing the point entirely.
When I evoke Squirt, I invoke not only a bodily act but also a crossing over, an interplay between self and Other—an encounter that feels immediate yet remains mediated by layers of expectation, fantasy, and cultural history. So, who is Squirt really for?
As miraculous as Squirt may seem, it’s also undeniably mundane. Many who experience it once don’t seek it a second; perhaps it’s less engaging than other pursuits. There isn’t a market for Squirting Studios, unlike yoga, suggesting that, unlike other experiences, Squirt doesn’t cultivate a market of addiction. Neither the FDA nor Traditional Chinese Medicine promotes it as a cure-all for mental, physical or spiritual wellbeing, yet those who have experienced Squirt often describe it as transcendental. Its explicit nature might directly oppose one essential element of desire: mystery. Ambiguity is not the usual association with Squirt.
Orgasm gentrification is an encroachment on jouissance, transforming perversion into a productive act and treating sex as a path to fitness or productivity. Will Squirt be next in line, packaged for wellness alongside pussy-scented candles?
Scientific studies on Squirt reduce it to its chemical composition, revealing the allegiance to the ideology of science while failing to illuminate its ontology. Can measuring bodily excretions ever relieve our existential tensions? Squirt forces confrontation as a stain—an unruly marker that resists containment. If, as the saying goes, "What gets measured gets improved," should Squirt bow to the demand for improvement? Here, the censorship by the British Board of Film Classification speaks with precision: Squirt is indeed a profanity.
What do we speak of when we speak of Squirt? It’s easy to get lost in the materiality of Squirt, but the first questions I received were about whether Squirt is a matter of technique or mindset. Yet, as soon as we count to two, we must recognize a third. A third presence—the observing Other—continuously frames and contextualizes the exchange. This triadic structure turns the act into a performance, where desire and fulfillment are not only shared between two but shaped and defined by an external audience. A neutral Squirt does not exist; it serves as a site that reveals the invisible forces acting through us, giving glimpses into the unseen dimensions that influence our actions. Squirt is a violation of boundaries. The question is, who erected these violated walls, and for what purpose?
One attraction to Squirt is the concrete proof of the Other’s pleasure. But can we ever capture and contain the Squirt of the Other? Can one become a collector of Squirts? A Squirt, after all, is not a Pokémon. It dissipates like a dream and slips through our fingers, leaving traces but no form. Squirt, as a signifier, marks the era of the Fluidic Turn—an emphasis on motion, impermanence and the collapse of boundaries between the material and the transcendental.
The mechanics of Squirt, like desire itself, intertwine with power. We must move on from the geometrical to the topological. Clues emerge not only from presence but even more so from absence. The question, 'What must I do to make her Squirt?' is not a question of curiosity but of a need for control. In this controlled desire, the Other becomes essential to Squirt’s absence—a faceless figure onto whom the self projects desires, aspirations, and the enjoyment of frustration. Squirt isn’t simply about release; it shows how external forces define, restrain, and regulate jouissance. Psychoanalysis teaches us that desire doesn’t seek satisfaction; desire aims to perpetuate itself.
What, then, is Squirt? It operates as both a mechanism and a byproduct—a fluid that defies fixed identity even as it emerges through it, dissolving boundaries while paradoxically affirming its existence. Squirt embodies both mindset and technique, yet neither fully captures its essence. It emerges in the tension between expectation and reality, in moments when our bodies and identities intertwine with that of the Other. Squirt is both surrender and assertion, a release that needs the fantasy of the Other to fully take shape.
In Japanese, the term for squirt, 潮吹き (shiofuki), translates to “tide blowing” and conveys an active force or eruption. Squirt embodies an eruptive nature, evoking elemental forces, reflecting Japanese cultural tendencies to connect bodily phenomena with nature. In Chinese, the concept of nature is expressed as 自然 (ziran), or shizen in Japanese, meaning "self-so" or "as it is," a core idea in Daoist thought. Shiofuki aligns with the rhythms of shizen, emphasizing flow, cycles, and the balance of forces.
Traditionally, Shiofuki carries no inherent gendered or pornographic connotations until the introduction of Christian Puritanism. Instead, like Hokusai’s Wave, it symbolizes a dynamic force that challenges stability and structure—a representation of vitality and creation. Squirt does not appear as a waste product to be shamed but as a liquid mirror of human existence, embodying motion, impermanence, and the sublime.
Squirt asserts itself, unfolding in response to the desire of the Other. It seeks affirmation, pressing against boundaries and daring the loss of self within another’s constraints. Squirt wields its power by exposing not a matter of technique or intention but a process of self-definition through negation. It is not simply an act but a fleeting resolution of the constant push and pull of desire—a manifestation of our demand for love intertwined with the reality of the Other.
Squirt, like all fantasies, disappears as quickly as it arrives. It leaves behind only sensation and memory, reminding us that desire is never entirely our own. The question isn’t, “What is Squirt?” but rather, “Who are we when Squirt violates?” Squirt lays bare the dynamics of our connections, exposing the delicate interplay between self and Other. It is both escape and entrapment—a fleeting freedom contained within a structure of control. Its release reminds us of the boundaries we can challenge but never fully transcend.
Squirt exists through collision, a brief short circuit between self and Other, subject and object. We lean on the Other as a mirror, chasing our desires through its reflection. With its fluidity, Squirt demands that we confront the walls of our longing. Who are we in the presence of Squirt, and what do we become when we dare to turn away?
—
Join me, Stefanie Rinke and Tobias Weiland for a thought-provoking exploration of Sadness of Pleasure: Zen and the Art of Squirt. Together, we’ll challenge boundaries and delve into the fluid intersections of desire, power, and cultural meaning.
📅 Wednedsay, December 18, 2024
🕢 19:30
📍 IKSK (Institut für Körperforschung und Sexuelle Kultur)
(Holzmarkt 25, Haus 2, 4th Floor, 10243 Berlin)
The event will be held in English and German. Admission is donation-based, starting at €10.
Share this post