The Feminist Porn Book: The Politics of Producing Pleasure (49 page)

Feminist porn attempts to counteract the messages we get from society that can be reflected in mainstream porn: sex is shameful, naughty, dirty, scary, dangerous, or it’s the domain of men, where only their desires and fantasies get fulfilled. In feminist porn, female desire, pleasure, and orgasm are prioritized and celebrated. When the sex on screen represents the experience of the performers (no one is “faking” anything) and that experience is set up to be positive and supportive, sex is presented as joyful, fun, safe, mutual, and satisfying.

Feminist porn both responds to dominant images with alternative ones and creates its own iconography. I consciously work to create images that question and contradict other pornography that represents men and women as one-dimensional objects—where men are sexual robots and women are vehicles for their pleasure. In a lot of mainstream heterosexual porn, the archetypical man is silent/stoic, always aroused and rock hard, dominant, assertive, and (judging by how their faces and much of their bodies are cut out of the frame) in the camera’s way. Rarely are men bisexual, submissive, or passive, and rarely do they ask for directions, make their partner’s pleasure a priority, or like their butts played with. Women are white, skinny, submissive, and big breasted. They are always ready for sex, they never say no, yet their pleasure isn’t a priority. It’s much more rare to see women of color, women who are non-skinny/large/plus-size, in charge, dominant, or submissive but also in control.

The intersection of sexuality and race in mainstream porn is complex territory with a history of inequality, stereotypes, and racist depictions. One need only look at titles in the so-called “ethnic” genres of Asian, Latin, or black (because, in mainstream porn, you can only be one)—like
Slant Eyed Sluts, Naughty Spanish Maids,
and
Big Black Asses
—to see how race is exoticized, fetishized, and commodified in very particular ways. I believe that feminist porn must reject the typical ghettoization of people of color by refusing to participate in the unspoken yet systematic exclusion of performers of color from certain kinds of films. Often,
performers of color are cast only in “ethnic” movies, and roles in features, vignettes, and other genres go to white performers. Whiteness is assumed in porn unless it’s labeled otherwise, which positions white as the unspoken and uncontested norm.

I cast performers of color in every film I make as part of my commitment to racial diversity and for several other reasons: to challenge long-held practices of denying performers of color the same opportunities as white performers; to create a platform to openly discuss race in the adult industry in their interviews; and to give them the chance to participate in their representation with an eye toward shifting prevailing attitudes among producers and consumers. I’m committed to combatting stereotypical portrayals on every level: I refuse to use race-specific, and often demeaning, language on box covers and in marketing materials.

Feminist porn creates its own iconography and is committed to depicting diversity in gender, race, ethnicity, nationality, sexuality, class, body size, ability, and age. Feminist porn also challenges what constitutes sex itself and the heteronormative depictions of penis-in-vagina (or ass) intercourse as the ultimate, climactic act and everything else as some sort of inconsequential window dressing. Feminist porn moves beyond pigtailed virgins, sex kittens, and hyperorgasmic nymphos, toward more complex and varied representations of femaleness and femininity, including what constitutes beauty, desirability, and sexiness. It does the same for men and masculinities, challenging the fixed, stereotypical ways in which male sexuality is depicted. Some people mistakenly believe that feminist porn is concerned only with women. We cannot fight gender oppression and attempt to dismantle rigid gender roles unless we expose all of the fallacies of gender. The ways in which men are treated and depicted in porn must also be part of the feminist agenda.

There are so few places where the public and private spheres collide so explicitly and their false dichotomy is exposed so literally; plainly, porn is one of the only places where we can watch other people interact sexually. Feminists can use porn as a platform to model diverse modes of sexual desire, fantasy, communication, pleasure, and orgasm—diversity that is sorely lacking in other forms of media. If people learn from porn (and that’s still a big if), why not give them sexual role models who explicitly ask for what they want, use lube and sex toys, and take more than two minutes to get aroused and achieve orgasm? Feminist porn also works to represent sex not as a stereotypical power imbalance but as a space to play with power and eroticize consensual power exchange, where the differences between sexual agency and sexual roleplay are clearly articulated.

I place so much emphasis on the process of making porn because it’s difficult to designate what a feminist porn
image
looks like. When I made my first film, I embraced the notion that certain depictions were turn-offs to all women, like facial cum shots. But my thinking on this has changed over time. I believe viewers appreciate consent, context, chemistry, and performer agency more than the presence or absence of a specific act. But the libido is a tricky thing; what turns us on may be disconnected from or in opposition to our social and political values. As a filmmaker, I’m conscious of the dangers of repetition of a specific act like a facial cum shot and what it could signify, specifically that men’s orgasms represent the apex of a scene (and of sex itself) and women’s bodies are things to be used, controlled, and marked like territory. Although I am trying to make a different kind of porn, once I put it out in the world, I can’t control how it’s received. Some people may grasp what it is I’m trying to do; others may simply see a hot film that turns them on. Ideally, people get it
and
get off on it. What sets feminist film apart from others is that I have a clear agenda behind its creation. I consider my smut-making political. I think making porn can be a political act, one that is just as valid and valuable as other forms of activism within the feminist movement.

I don’t want to paint an unrealistic picture. There are complexities and contradictions inherent in producing porn. I was confronted with some of them during that very first shoot with Evil Angel, and I struggle with them still. I want performers to feel pampered and valued
and
I have a limited budget. I want the atmosphere to be pressure-free
and
I only have this location for a certain number of hours. I want you to work with your favorite co-star
and
he just called in sick and needs to be replaced. Sometimes everyone has to make it work within the existing limits, and some days feel more limited than others. But when it all comes together, it feels amazing.

What is most gratifying about my work is the response from the performers and production crew members I work with. Performers tell me it’s the best experience they’ve ever had on a set. I don’t pay them any more than anyone else does, but the atmosphere is fun and safe, and I treat them well. In some circles, I have a reputation for spoiling the performers. I get their favorite food, lube, and sex toys for them. Let me be clear: I don’t spoil them,
I value them.
I value them as human beings, as sex workers, as performers, and I value the work they do. I hope they internalize this value and I raise their expectations for what a work experience can be.

Porn is a multibillion-dollar industry and a prevalent, powerful cultural
medium. Are feminists a minority in the adult industry? Absolutely. But if we ignore or dismiss porn, I think we walk away from a significant opportunity. The process of making porn cannot only be consensual, it can be safe, professional, political, empowering, and fun. As a feminist, I consciously choose to engage what some feminists call an enemy of women and to challenge the status quo of a historically male-dominated industry. Instead of using my energy and resources to silence others’ voices and visions by campaigning against bad porn, I choose to add my voice and vision to the mix. Feminist pornographers contradict the narrative of women working in porn being duped, objectified, and powerless. We are not predatory, seedy people who pluck Midwestern girls from bus stations and force them to do things they don’t want to do (I still haven’t met any of those guys). We challenge the conventions of a male-dominated industry and disrupt antiporn rhetoric about the evils of men and their exploitation and degradation of women.

I often have the opportunity to sit alongside women in powerful positions in the porn industry on panels at various events. At a recent one, a producer said, “My mission is to create adult entertainment, I don’t have any illusions that I can change the world or anything.” I was struck by her statement and realized immediately that I disagree. I do feel like I can change the world—one feminist porn film at a time.

Our Pornography

CHRISTOPHER DANIEL ZEISCHEGG a.k.a. DANNY WYLDE

Christoper Daniel Zeischegg,
a.k.a. Danny Wylde, is a pornographer, writer, and filmmaker living in Los Angeles, California. He updates his personal blog at
http://trvewest coastfiction.blogspot.com
.

A
friend and fellow adult performer, Paris Kennedy, invited me to her place for dinner. Over a meal of home-cooked vegetable lasagna, she and her partner, adult fetish producer Alex Bettinger, proposed an idea.

“We want to start a book club,” Bettinger told me. “But for people in the industry.”

“Sounds like fun,” I replied.

“It would be more than just a club,” added Bettinger. “I’d like for us to have filmed roundtable discussions on each book we read. And I’d like to put some excerpts online for people to watch.”

“So what would we be reading?” I asked.

“I’d like to start with this.” Bettinger handed me a paperback by the Pulitzer Prize-winning author Chris Hedges, titled
Empire of Illusion: The End of Literacy and the Triumph of Spectacle.

It’s not what I expected. I thought we’d be picking out cherished novels and sharing them with a group of friends. But Bettinger and Kennedy have something different in mind. They want in-depth discussions on the nature of our industry. And they want to start with Chris Hedges’s stance on pornography. That stance, I soon learn, is one of virulent criticism.

“I recommend reading the whole thing,” said Bettinger, “but I’d like for you to at least finish the chapter on porn.”

“It’s actually very interesting,” Kennedy added. “It takes a lot to hold my attention when I’m reading something like that.” By
that,
she means a fierce attack of her chosen profession.

“Hedges has some valid points, but it’s not an academic piece,” said
Bettinger. “It’s a polemical piece. He takes what I believe are extreme examples, and uses them to build the foundation of his argument.”

“Well, let me write down the title, and I’ll see if I can pick it up at the local book store,” I said.

“No,” replied Bettinger. “This copy’s for you.”

The following day, I begin reading. The second chapter, “The Illusion of Love,” deals exclusively with pornography. Hedges’s central point is that porn strips away human qualities of connection, such as love and intimacy, and offers only cruel, superficial, and often brutal sex. On the topic of female adult performers, Hedges writes, “The one emotion they are allowed to display is an unquenchable desire to satisfy men, especially if that desire involves the women’s physical and emotional degradation.”
¹
Hedges does not write that
sometimes
women in porn serve no other purpose but to satisfy men and beg for sexual abuse. He doesn’t write that
often
or
usually
women serve such a purpose. His claim is all encompassing: all porn portrays and perpetuates sexual violence, often against women.

Hedges primarily interviews individuals who share his beliefs. Shelly Lubben, an ex-porn star and founder of the Christian outreach program Pink Cross, describes porn performers as drug users who need to numb themselves, adding that they check out mentally, and “turn themselves off emotionally and die.”
²
Another ex-porn star, Patrice Roldan (a.k.a. Nadia Styles), talks about her time as a performer, “I would say, ‘Treat me like a little slut,’ or ‘I’m your bitch,’ or ‘Fuck me like a whore.’ I would say the most degrading things I could say about myself because I thought this was what it meant to be sexy and what people wanted to hear . . . You are just a slut to those who watch. You are nothing.”
³

Even interviews with people still active within the industry do nothing to paint a brighter picture. Adult film director Jim Powers tells Hedges that years ago porn stars were actresses who were serious about their work. But now, “They are hookers. They don’t care. They are a throwaway commodity in a throwaway world.”
⁴