Photo via Splash

Madonna was photographed yesterday leaving the Claridges Hotel in London with hubby Guy Ritchie and clutching a clear bag containing the Purple Penetrator strap-on. Not surprisingly, much of the blogosphere is resorting to knowing jokes about "who wears the pants in that family" and "who's the boss." The subtle suggestion, of course, is that only a controlling, castrating, aggressive and ambitious she-man like Madge would engage in such saucy sexual activity. Oh, forgive them, for they know not what they do; they mock what they don't understand. Sharing a probe that dare not speak its name within a loving, committed, long-term relationship can be one of the most intense, intimate and down-right dirty things you can do with your sweetie pie.

Everyone, regardless of sex or sexual orientation, is blessed with an abundance of nerve endings back, and those nerve endings are all interconnected via the pelvic floor muscles to other genital erogenous zones. It has nothing to do with who makes more money, who's the weaker one in the relationship or who is the "man." It's about pleasure, pure and simple. And it's about pushing the envelope, breaking taboos, and giving the finger (or the phallus, in this case) to rigid old-school gender roles. Love her or hate her, Madonna has always embraced these progressive, shall we say, values. "Poke" fun all you want, but she's always brought female sexual empowerment to the forefront (even if she refuses to call it feminism). It was no accident that the shopping bag was clear--the two of them were setting an example of the kind of egalitarian relationship any of us can have (sans the mansion and full-time staff). After making such male-dominant--we might even say misogynistic--crap like Swept Away together, it's the least they could do.