6 in the morning, Client, music video
Tracy Clark-Flory at Salon.com
recently wrote about the modesty of the porn generation and our reluctance to share our porn preferences with our partners. She claims that when it comes to smut, we’re
‘much more shy – and basically more human than the media narrative would have you think’.
In a world where sexuality and sex have become a necessary tools not only in the media, but in politics, the news cycle, and discussions of gender equality, it is important to remember that porn does not, as Natasha Vargas-Cooper claims in The Atlantic, have
‘a pervasiveness and influence on the culture at large’
, rather it is a reflection of the traces of colonial and gendered histories that remain a part of our culture today. Indeed, although Vargas-Cooper somewhat acknowledges this dialectic between accepted cultural norms and history, she also sees male sexuality as a ‘dark force streaked with aggression’ in its ‘natural’ state – that sexuality at its core is bestial and so essentially has more detrimental consequences for women than it does for men. For her, sex-positivity and its egalitarian views of sex is simply a ‘utopian pretension’.
Lauren’s post on Post-Partum Sex Positivity reminds us that the implementation of the ideals of sex-positivity are still problematic, and can, at its worst, be discriminatory and non-inclusive. The recent Nicki Blue virginity-cam debate surrounding kink.com’s marketing decision in the recording of her first experience of vaginal penetration only demonstrates how it can be difficult to reconcile sex-positivity with feminism and vice versa. Clark-Flory’s article suggest that the vulnerability we feel about our sexual preferences, even in our most intimate relationships, mean that despite existing in the age of the modern confessional, real life can be harder to negotiate and
‘sex [in porn and the media] really doesn’t change that much’.
Indeed, where it’s easy for complete strangers to read about your lunch preferences on twitter, and hard-core pornography, as is instantly accessible online, what does it mean that we can get off on videos of S/M sex and double penetration, but feel shyness about sharing these desires with our partners? Is sex-positivity, itself, as Vargos-Cooper seems to suggest, our own unattainable sexual fantasy?
When I think about why I first chose to enter the sex industry, one in which sexism and the objectification of women seems to be the most exaggerated and unapologetic, I remember being conscious of the fact that I was a) embodying a fantasy, particularly as an asian woman who looks younger than her age b) exploiting these oppressive forces for my own financial and personal gain. When you’re working hours in platform heels and a corset, sex isn’t a fantasy, it becomes work, reality, just another job. But initially, to someone else, you’re not real. You’re a figment of the deep part of their imagination, whether they want you to smoke cigarettes into their eyes or smack you because you’re a naughty girl. I’ve watched the moment a first-time customer realises that I’m a person, doing a job – and it came when I elaborated on necessary points of consent for a safe experience, even if it was something as simple as safe words. Being a sex worker, and especially an switch in an s/m dungeon points out to the owners of fantasies that reality can work in much a different way.
I refuse to believe sex-positivity is a fantasy because I know when fantasies are enacted in real life, they can deeply affects relationships and the way sexual activities function – for the better. To assume, like Vargas-Cooper that sex is essentially a reinforcement of ‘natural’ tropes of male dominance and female submission is a cop-out. No one said enforcing sex-positivity was easy. No one said it was going to happen in an instant, no, it requires self-reflection, openness, and slow cultural change. And consent is the element that, when inserted, changes everything It can blur the lines between fantasy and reality. It can make one realise that we have a long way to go despite what the media tells us. And it can make for a fulfilling and egalitarian relationship even if we engage in performances of male dominance and female submission. Sexism can exist in our desires because of the societal structures within which we were raised, and the concepts we’ve inevitably internalised – like I’ve said before, it’s how we engage in those activities that make a difference. A consensual relationship is an egalitarian one, even if what you’re enacting appears to perpetuate the age-old stereotype of the ‘brutal male’ and ‘resisting female’.
What Clark-Flory points out in her post is a ‘shyness’ that goes along with guilt from watching porn – I know from my experiences with partners that in this modern age, that guilt can exist because of the feeling that one is exploiting women, or from wanting to completely separate fantasy from reality because the fantasy seems to be oppressive, or too violent, or too ‘weird’ to share with a real-life partner. To me, however, that seems to be progress. Because it brings up the fact that people are holding on to old misconceptions about porn-watching that need to be changed – but they’re aware, and feeling guilty about their attraction to sexist, extreme, or what they would consider non-respectful pornographic tropes. The guilt doesn’t stem from the porn-watching in and of itself, but the sex-positive view that the separation of fantasy and real-life is something that can be detrimental, and in the worse case, border on non-disclosure in a consensual, real life relationship. I’m not saying that people aren’t entitled to watch porn, or that they have to disclose all the details of their porn-watching habits to their partners. But being open about the type of porn you watch and communicating about how you want porn to play into your relationship, whether as something mostly separate from you and your partner’s sexual life, or something that can be played with, is a step in the right direction – both of these can suddenly make your sexual fantasies a part of reality – even if that’s all they are – fantasies.
Sexual shame, is unfortunately, something that all of us struggle with in our culture every day – particularly in a world where we’re trying to move forward in terms of feminism and sex positivity – there’s suddenly much more to worry about. Consent, and open communication is the only way forward – and I’m not saying these things aren’t hard, but they can be done, and we’re on our way. Let’s not ever give up.
