Another reason people get upset about Rand and sex is that her ideal intimate encounters always seem to be pseudo-rapes. Naturally, the sex-negative, authoritarian modern feminist movement gasps in shock at the suggestion that consensually ambiguous encounters might be thrilling for both parties.
It’s been a while, but I don’t recall anything “ambiguous” about the rape scenes in the previous novels. As for the new old one, Filipovic has the text right here:
“She lay dressed, on his bed, and her one hand hung over the edge, white in the darkness. She jerked her head up and he could guess her eyes on the pale blot of her face. She felt his teeth sinking into her hand. She struggled ferociously, her muscles tense, hard, sharp as an animal’s. ‘Keep still,’ he whispered hoarsely into her throat. ‘You can’t call for help!’
She did not call for help…
That word “ambiguity,” I do not think it etc. The fact the review starts off with logic on a par with “you call yourself a feminist, yet you disagree with Phyllis Schafly, make up your mind!” As Filipovic goes on to say:
Perhaps Rand’s largest talent lies not in her status as the mother of Objectivism, but her ability to play the Cool Girl, even posthumously, in the minds of men whose view of women is colored by both desire and revulsion. You’re not a misogynist if your hero is Ayn Rand, and Ayn Rand is the ultimate shield and sword for the kind of arguments regularly entered into by the kind of man who worships Ayn Rand. Ayn Rand wouldn’t care that you called her a slut on the internet. Ayn Rand doesn’t think it’s rape if you hold her down and shove your dick in her without permission. Ayn Rand probably drinks whiskey and plays beer pong and has always had way more guy friends because girls cause so much drama. She’s the Sociopathic Pixie Dream Girl.
Rand’s admiration for murderers also seems relevant here…