The Big Business of Female Sexual Arousal

Earlier this week, the FDA voted to approve flibanserin, also known by its brand name Addyi, a "pink Viagra" produced by Sprout Pharmaceuticals. Stories of equal opportunity orgasms are about to fuel a booming business, but beneath the shiny veneer of girl power and female sexual pleasure lies a darker story, one in which a business model built on sexual ignorance and insecurity exploits women by peddling them overpriced, and often unnecessary, "solutions" to their woes.

Over the past few months, Sprout worked hard to promote flibanserin—an antidepressant repackaged as a libido enhancer, twice rejected by the FDA—with the language of female liberation, enlisting prominent feminists like Terry O'Neill of the National Organization for Women to argue on the pharmaceutical's behalf. To hear flibanserin's supporters tell it, keeping the product off the market reaffirms the second class status of women, or at least their orgasms.

The FDA was convinced, but many others weren't. For months, numerous doctors, sex therapists, and other sexuality professionals have come out against flibanserin, arguing that, despite its pro-sex lingo, it needlessly medicalizes normal sexual response, encouraging women to take a pill for a "problem" that might just be a different pattern of arousal.

As sex educator Emily Nagoski outlined in a New York Times op-ed, "many people (perhaps especially women) often experience desire as responsive, emerging in response to, rather than in anticipation of, erotic stimulation. Arousal first, then desire." Women whose desire is responsive often assume they suffer from low libido, and could easily fall prey to an advertising campaign for a product they don't actually need.

As over 200 scientists noted in a petition, flibanserin has proven little more effective than a placebo, and its known side-effects, including hypotension, sudden unconsciousness, and negative interactions with alcohol and birth control pills, put women at an unjustified amount of risk in exchange for very little benefit. And yet despite these objections, Addyi still secured approval.

Flibanserin may be the first drug promising to "cure" female sexual interest and arousal disorder, but there's already at least one other company looking to cash in on flibanserin's target market, albeit with an overpriced marital aid rather than a pill.

Nuelle's Fiera (helpfully subtitled as an "Arouser for Her") is a small pink and white plastic device, roughly the size of a staple remover. With the help of a disposable silicone cap, the Fiera fits snugly over the clitoris; once it's engaged, it uses gentle suction to stimulate blood flow to the genitals, leading to lubrication, arousal, and, potentially, desire.

Like flibanserin, the product's been pitched in feminist terms of sexual liberation, with the product's New York launch event even featuring a panel of sex experts advocating for the destigmatization of female sexual pleasure. Unlike flibanserin, Fiera won't cause hypotension or mess up your plans for a birth control and booze bender. But at $299 (plus $15 for every replacement cap you require), it may do a number on your wallet.

Even in the notoriously expensive sex toy market, Fiera's price point stands out; especially once you realize that there's nothing particularly original about the product's mode of stimulation. Sex toy retailers have been stocking clit pumps and snake bite kits for years; functionally, the primary difference between Fiera and something like this "clitoris enhancement kit" is marketing. While other suction-based devices are firmly planted in the kink arena, marketing their products to consumers who enjoy, or even fetishize, the sensation of a swollen clit, Fiera is aggressively moving in the opposite direction. The product is an "arouser," not a sex toy; according to representatives, it won't even be available in sex toy stores.

This may seem like an unusual strategy for a sexual wellness product, but the only consumers likely to shell out $300 for an "arouser" are ones who are too uncomfortable talking about sex to ever explore any other options.

Which is, ultimately, the bitter irony of both flibanserin and Fiera. The products may package themselves in feminist language about empowerment and sexual pleasure, but their business models seem to rely on sexual ignorance, stigma, and a population of women too afraid to actually explore the wealth of other options that might remedy their woes. Those options come at a much cheaper price point than the Fiera, and with far fewer side effects than flibanserin.

It would be a stretch to say that these products are completely without value: Indeed, some sexually frustrated women have already found their way to sexual fulfilment thanks to both. But it's hard to root for products that seem designed to profit off of ignorance.

Nevertheless, it's possible that the success of these products may ultimately be their undoing. If Fiera and flibanserin fans truly do become comfortable talking about (and asking for) sex, they'll likely find themselves more interested in exploring the nuances of their own desires and arousal patterns, rather than popping a pill, or discreetly making use of an expensive arouser, every time a partner expresses interest in having sex.