XXX: A Woman's Right to Pornography (6 page)

then marketed. These videos were fairly inexpensive-e.g. nine tapes for about one hundred dollars. One exhibitor insisted that the tapes he received from amateur producers were far more innovative than the mass-produced ones. Moreover, buyers knew the action was real. The home porn market included newsletters, computer bulletin boards for downloading "full-motion video clips," and an introduction service for amateur fans.

A booth to my left promoted sex toys; on my right, a woman reached into a huge goldfish bowl full of condoms and handed them out to passersby. (Coin-sized and wrapped in gold foil, they reminded me of the chocolates I used to love as a child.) Interactive computer displays flashed porn with low resolution and a low update rate-ten or fifteen frames a second. Another booth distributed mock samples of "Prepaid Private Issue Calling Cards." The purchaser of such a card simply dialed an 800 access number, gave his authorization code, and was able to dial a list of sex phone lines. No phone calls showed up on his home or company phone bill.

Next I stopped at the
Adult Video News (AVN)
booth to ask about a matter that perplexed me.

AVN is
the trade publication for video porn. In the table of contents of the January issue, an article entitled "I've Finished My Calls, So . . ." was listed on page 20. A subtext described the article: "Our esteemed publisher comments on some of the less esteemed people in the adult entertainment business." The idea of the industry regulating itself by exposing malfeasance was interesting. But page 20 consisted of an advertisement. No article with that title appeared elsewhere.

A man at the
AVN
booth told me that the article had been yanked so quickly there had been no time to change the table of contents. Further inquiry resulted in a brush-off. I asked people at other booths to speculate about the matter. According to the best-informed source, the article was about a porn producer known for writing rubber checks. It was disappointing that the magazine was unwilling or unable to expose fraud.

THE STICKY ISSUE OF SADOMASOCHISM

The most prominent type of pornography at the convention seemed to be fetish porn, especially S/M and dominance. In one booth, women role-played at dominance and submission, using soft whips and other equipment. As I watched, I started to get upset-not because I thought the women were coerced or psychologically damaged, but because I don't like even "mock" humiliation.

And I was bothered by the reaction of the men. At one point, a producer from a public access station asked one of the women to "perform" so he could film her. She crouched down on her knees, her ass jutting into the air. With the hand farthest from the camera, she raised a whip and flicked it down across her backside, all the while moaning to herself to "do it harder." The producer kept shifting his position to get a better angle, or, maybe, just a better look.

This is my clearest memory of the convention and it never fails to disturb me. I am convinced that the woman performed of her own free will and that she was not physically harmed. She appeared to be enjoying herself. I am also convinced that my sexual preferences and reactions are no more natural than anyone else's. Nevertheless, a sinking feeling always accompanies this vivid memory.

In sorting through S/M videos and publications, I tried to answer three questions:
1. Did the action look staged?

Invariably, it did. A few magazines showed photos of bruised women, but the marks were clearly makeup, with only one bruise vaguely resembling the real thing. There was one exception: the spanking magazines-usually imported from Britain-showed asses that seemed sincerely red.

More than anything, the S/M magazines seemed campy.

2.
Did the men tend to dominate the women, or vice versa?

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I saw about twice as many cases of women dominating men than the reverse. For example, one of Bizarre Video's June releases was
Mistresses at War,
with the subtext, "A slave is torn between two dueling mistresses. Where does his loyalty lie?"

3. How far did the mock violence go?

The violence was restrained and less graphic than can be seen in many studio releases. Common sights included: someone in chains or wearing a collar; hair pulling; women with fearful expressions; women on their knees (often in front of other women); and spankings.

But the fetish market is much more than S/M. There was porn featuring fat people, feet with painted toenails, women with incredibly large breasts, and a
Cousin Bubba
magazine advertising "Country Corn Porn."

To tell the truth, as I perused the S/M and other fetish porn displayed, I was not disgusted or distressed. I thought most of it was rather silly.

THE AVN AWARDS: THE OSCARS OF PORN

The Adult Video News (AVN) Awards Show is where excellence in the industry is recognized through awards such as "Best Editing for a Film," "Best Actor, Video," and "Best All-Sex Feature." On January 8, it was the hottest ticket in Las Vegas.

The room held 125 tables, which seated ten people each. My table-number 102-boasted a perfect stereo view of the stage via two huge screens to my right and left. Music boomed loud enough to make the floor quake and conversation impractical. I shared the table with an angry looking woman in a black dress and sequined red jacket. To her right sat a bored looking man. They were an attractive couple in a non-porn fashion, meaning they didn't look either hard or glitzy or thrilled to be there. The woman had an air of slumming.

From their silence, it was clear I would have to initiate introductions. They turned out to be doing a documentary on the U.S. porn industry. Trying to keep up the conversation, I asked the woman what had surprised her the most about the convention. She answered, "Nothing. There's nothing surprising here. I'm used to working in Hollywood."

To break the ice, I volunteered, "The thing that surprised me the most was how conservative these people are." This piqued the man's interest, who leaned his elbows onto the table. I expanded, "They all believe that the government will protect them now that Clinton is in power."

Both nodded agreement. The man admitted to not being "up" on the current state of censorship in the U.S. He asked me for a thumbnail sketch. I obliged, then launched into a critique of the class structure of pornography, wondering aloud where the new blood was. "Where are the Young Turks?" I exclaimed. The lady remarked, "One of them is seated across from you. You should go and talk to him."

Later I realized my enthusiasm must have irritated her. As the Awards ceremony progressed, the contempt in which she held people in the industry became obvious.

The Young Turk was named Greg Steel. About twenty-five years old, in a rumpled suit topped off by a Brillo-mop of red hair, Greg's appearance was in sharp contrast to the trendy "I'm into my body" look of the crowd. He provided a natural opening for conversation.

"You are the only person I have seen," I smiled, "who is wearing an AIDS ribbon. In a sexually aware crowd like this, I expected to see them everywhere." He offered that a friend of his had recently died of the disease and added that he produced gay as well as straight videos. In fact, he was up for an award in a gay category.

I asked how the "younger generation" conducted business differently than the older one. I learned that contracts were signed in advance; at the actresses' discretion, the actors used condoms; the actresses were asked whom they wished to perform with; scripts were prepared in 24

advance and distributed to the cast for rehearsal; the minimum fee for a day's work was six hundred dollars. I was amazed; he seemed to approach pornography as though it was a craft, a profession.

When I asked about politics, Greg gave one of the most intriguing and dismissive answers I received. "I don't concern myself with politics," he said. "It doesn't interest me." Then he added, "Censorship has nothing to do with politics. They don't want to close us down. This is a huge industry and they want a cut of it."

I started to contradict him-to point out that the Religious Right and antiporn feminists were on a
moral
crusade. Closing him down was precisely what they wanted. I stopped short. There was as much truth in his perspective as there was in mine. Most politicians probably
were
happy to let pornography exist ... as long as it paid for the privilege.

Another Young Turk named Shawn Ricks and his protŽgŽ actress, Sydney, joined us. A tal blond woman sat down. And ... The Awards ceremony began. The incredibly square chinned Randy West hosted the event and began by singing, "It shows a lot of class to take it in the ass."

Or, at least, that was the gist of the lyrics. Unfortunately, whoever mixed the sound must have learned his craft at rock concerts, because the instruments overwhelmed the voices. But the screens provided a perfect view. As the Awards progressed, I ignored the other people at the table and chatted with Greg. A specific event triggered this decision. The blonde and the documentarian had been trading bitchy remarks about the people onstage. Perhaps the insults ZHUHDFFXUDWHRUSHUKDSVWKHWZRZRPHQZHUHFDW \F\QLFV:KLFKHYHU«WKHLUDW LWXGHPDGHPH

feel ridiculous for enjoying myself and for admiring the "in your face" attitude of the industry.

The turning point: A flustered young actress burst into tears at receiving an award. When the other women at the table hooted in derision, my back literally bristled. Why shouldn't the woman cry? This was
her
night to be proud of her work, to be touched by the tribute of her peers. Who knows what abuse she swallowed from the world about how she paid her bills? Listening to the insults fly, I felt as though the casual cruelty of the regular world was sitting across the table from me.

Anger had a salutary effect. If being sophisticated meant having contempt for other women, then fuck it! I had a second glass of wine and settled back to enjoy myself.

Not knowing the videos or people up for awards was a barrier to appreciating the event. Instead, I cued in to the flow of the show and to the education I was getting from Greg.

As to the flow: Part Two of the ceremony focused on the technical and gay awards. This section was remarkable for its brevity. In other sections, the presenter read off the nominees and the winner rushed onstage to accept. In Part Two, only the winners were announced and only the most important gay awards were handed out in person. Since gay porn constitutes a huge chunk of the industry, this short shrift was puzzling.

I was even more baffled when Chi Chi-perhaps the most famous gay sex performer-capped off the Awards Event with a dazzling production number. On a Caesar-like reclining throne, he/she was carried onto the stage by slave boys, who proceeded to join in the musical number, "Love Doll." The audience couldn't seem to applaud or cheer loudly enough.
What was this?
I wondered. A schizophrenia about gays
?

My political sensibilities perked up at two other points. The first: An elegant man stood up to receive a major award and people at table 102 began to mutter. Greg explained that the fellow had worked for only six months last year because he'd had a sex scene with a woman who'd turned out to be HIV positive.

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Health certificates had become standard practice in the industry; I now wondered if they were as easy to forge as documents proving age.

The second incident concerned another Young Turk. A black producer named Sean Michaels was passed by for an award. Sydney, the lady on Shawn Ricks's arm, commented wryly that it would be a long time before the AVN presented an award to a black person. The next day, people to whom I mentioned this remark took exception. But they admitted that black men were not common in porn; Asian men were unknown. And they couldn't remember a black man ever winning in any category.

After this, the mood at table 102 changed. Everyone who'd been nominated, or connected with a nomination, had been passed over. It dawned on me how much these people had wanted to win.

Now Shawn Ricks began to tell me about his philosophy of pornography. He wanted to be on the cutting edge, to break the rules. As I would do with any other young rebel, I wished him luck.

A SLEEPY SUNDAY IN PORN

A bright Sunday morning-and the Adult Section was deadly quiet. Fortunately, the one gay booth-which shared space with a straight company-was occupied by a lean young man and a plumpish woman.

I walked up, and into an interesting situation. A rather plain girl was asking how she could get into porn. The plumpish woman behind the counter cut her off coldly, because (as she later explained to me) the aspiring actress was so unattractive that the only honest answer would have been "in your dreams."

I was surprised to see a woman so eager to get into the industry. The woman behind the booth assured me that it happened all the time.

I began to wonder whether the reason porn actresses are poorly paid was simple economics. If there is such a glut of "talent" that people will perform for free, this would depress wages for everyone. The same would be true in the legitimate film business, if it were not for unions, which prevent "volunteer" labor. This might also explain why porn actresses are so good-looking; producers can pick and choose.

To open conversation, I asked the fellow in the gay booth whether porn actors ever crossed over into legitimate film. He said no, but that the reverse often occurs. People give up on "legitimate"

careers and get stuck in porn, where they are stigmatized. He turned and addressed an imagined critic standing to his left. "I'm sorry, not all of us can do Seinfeld. I'm sorry, I have rent to pay."

I commented on how the absence of AIDS ribbons surprised me. He replied that gays were not well received by straight pornographers, who were into being "macho sex machines." Then he explained how gay porn had pioneered condom use within the industry. Every gay shoot, he insisted, had a big bowl of condoms that the actors were required to use. Grimacing, he said that producers of regular porn didn't even want to hear about condoms because they claimed, "The audience doesn't want to see them."